The woman's yellow eyes gleamed like a cat's in the lamplight, mischievous and amused as she studied the boy standing awkwardly at the window. Her long, wavy brown hair brushed the fur trim of the oversized coat draped over her shoulders, the faint jingle of bracelets chiming with every shift of her arm. She looked every bit like she belonged in this city: confident, bold, untouchable.
Leona: Hungry?
Sight froze, caught between embarrassment and hope.
Sight: Ah… well… maybe.
His scarf shifted as he scratched the back of his neck, but his stomach betrayed him before he could say more. The growl was so loud that a passing sailor actually glanced over.
Leona's grin widened, sharp but not unkind.
Leona: Ha! Thought so. Come on, kid. You'll starve, staring through glass.
Before he could protest, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside.
The restaurant smelled like heaven. Spices lingered in the air, mixing with the salty breeze from the open windows. The tables were crowded with sailors, merchants, and travelers, their laughter booming over the clink of mugs.
Minutes later, Sight found himself sitting stiffly at a wooden table, scarf lowered reluctantly. Plates of food were set before him: roasted fish glazed with herbs, steaming bowls of rice, bread still warm from the oven.
His eyes went wide.
Sight: …All this is for me?
Leona:[already pouring herself a drink] Eat. You look like you've been living on dirt and roots.
He didn't need to be told twice. Sight dug in, chopsticks clumsy but determined, devouring food with a speed that startled even the rowdy sailors nearby. Mouthful after mouthful vanished, his sky-blue eyes shining with joy.
Leona:[leaning on her elbow, watching him] …Damn. You eat like a beast. Where do you put it all?
Sight paused only long enough to grin sheepishly, cheeks puffed with rice.
Sight: I… get hungry easily.
Leona snorted, tossing back her drink in one smooth motion before slamming the empty glass on the table.
Leona: Leona. And you?
Sight:[swallowing hard] Sight. Sight Albar.
Leona: Huh. Sounds foreign. Not from around here, I take it?
Sight's hands slowed. For a moment, silence hung between them.
Sight: …Don't really know. Just… not here.
Leona's eyes lingered on him, sharper now, but she didn't push. Instead, she laughed, waving for another drink.
Leona: Mysterious kid, huh? Fine. If you're new in Lavandia, you're lucky you met me. I'll give you the tour.
Sight: Tour?
Leona: Yeah. This city's not just pretty roofs and fish. It's alive. Loud. Dangerous. Better to have someone who knows the ropes.
She stood with a flourish, coat swaying dramatically.
Leona: Come on. Big sis Leona's got your back.
They stepped back into the streets, now painted orange with the setting sun. Lavandia was alive in ways the village could never be: merchants shouting prices, hawkers pushing enchanted trinkets that floated or glowed faintly, children darting between stalls with sticky sweets in their hands.
Leona led him confidently, bracelets clinking as she gestured at every corner.
Leona: See that shop? Total scam. They'll sell you a 'potion of love' that tastes like swamp water. And that one? Hah, that one's legit sells enchanted lanterns that never go out. Saved my ass once in a storm.
Sight's head turned constantly, eyes wide with wonder.
Sight: So many… magic things.
Leona: Magic sells here more than fish. Though, you ask me, half of it's junk. Real power? Comes from fists and guts. Remember that.
She winked, then dragged him onward.
At the docks, the smell of salt and tar grew thick. Ships towered overhead, their sails furled, ropes creaking in the wind. Sailors shouted as crates of shimmering shells and glowing crystals were unloaded.
Leona: Merchants' docks. Safe. Those? Smugglers' docks. Don't step near unless you wanna wake up in a barrel. And those over there? Hah, those belong to gangs. You don't even breathe their air without paying.
Sight frowned, gaze drifting toward the gang-controlled docks. Men with serpent tattoos lounged there, glaring at passersby.
Sight: …Villages don't have things like this.
Leona:[chuckling] Villages don't have anything. That's why I left mine.
Her smile faltered for just a heartbeat, but she covered it quickly with another laugh.
As night fell, lanterns flickered to life across Lavandia, painting the streets gold. Musicians played in tavern doorways, lutes and drums mixing with the roar of drunk laughter. The smell of grilled seafood drifted heavy, pulling them into a crowded tavern.
Leona claimed a table instantly, ordering a bottle of strong liquor and a plate of fried shellfish.
Leona: Here. Eat more. You burn through food like a fire.
Sight obeyed, though his gaze kept drifting to her glass as she downed it, then another, then another.
Sight: You… drink a lot.
Leona:[grinning lazily] And fight a lot. Two talents every woman should have.
She poured again, golden liquid spilling slightly over her bracelets, and raised it toward him.
Leona: To new friends.
Sight hesitated, then raised his chopsticks awkwardly in return.
Sight: …To friends.
Her laugh was loud and genuine, ringing through the tavern.
But later, when Sight left briefly to fetch water, Leona leaned back in her chair, bracelets jingling as she lifted her flask. Her eyes shifted toward the alley beyond the tavern.
Figures moved in the shadows. Waiting.
Her smile dimmed.
Leona (thinking):Damn it. I like the kid. But a girl's gotta drink. And those bottles don't pay for themselves.
She tipped her flask back, swallowing hard.
Leona (thinking):Sorry, Sight. Business is business.
When Sight stepped out into the night, the streets were quieter. Lanterns burned low, smoke curling from their flames. His scarf brushed his cheek as the wind shifted, carrying the smell of the sea.
Bootsteps echoed.
From the alleys, men emerged. One, then three, then ten. Steel glinted under the lantern light. Faces scarred, eyes hungry. Their tattoos glimmered like inked waves across their arms.
At their front stood a tall man, bare-chested save for jagged scars, his arms flickering faintly with sparks of electricity. His grin was sharp, teeth flashing.
Gang Leader: Well, well. Fresh little fish wandered into our net.
Sight's eyes narrowed. His hand tugged his scarf tighter.
Sight: …Who are you?
Gang Leader: We're the Black Tides. This city's waves belong to us. And you? You're the prize we're cashing in tonight.
Behind him, the gang fanned out, circling. Blades gleamed, chains rattled, laughter echoed.
From a rooftop nearby, Leona leaned in the shadows, flask resting in her hand. Her yellow eyes caught the light, but her grin was gone.
Leona (thinking):Damn it, kid… I hope you can swim.