Chapter 7
Ivy tossed an old pillow onto the floor with a casual motion, dust puffing into the air as it landed. "Guess this place is as good as any," she said, her voice tinged with weariness. "We'll sleep here for the night. Not like it's going anywhere."
Vi raised an eyebrow, glancing around the dilapidated room. "Comfy," she joked, smirking as she nudged a piece of debris with her boot.
Ivy ignored her and turned toward the back of the house, gesturing with a tilt of her head. "One of you can take my old room. There's a bed in there—probably half-collapsed, but better than the floor. And the other can have my parents' room. That bed might actually hold up."
Caitlyn frowned, glancing between the two. "And what about you? Where are you sleeping?"
Ivy shrugged, her tone nonchalant. "Couch in the living room. It's busted, but I've slept on worse. Don't worry about me."
Vi leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as she studied Ivy. "You sure? You're the one who dragged us here. Seems only fair you take the bed."
Ivy shot her a look. "It's fine. I don't need it."
Caitlyn hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue further. "Are you sure this is... safe?" she asked, glancing around the room. "The doors don't even lock. We're exposed."
"Yeah, welcome to Zaun," Ivy said dryly. "But no one's been here in years. No one's coming. Trust me."
Vi gave a small shrug, walking toward the doorway Ivy had pointed out. "Alright, I'll take the parents' room. Thanks for the luxury accommodations."
Ivy rolled her eyes but didn't respond, turning toward her old room instead. Dust blanketed the once-familiar space, and the air was heavy with disuse. She stared at the small bed in the corner for a moment, memories threatening to bubble to the surface before she shoved them back down.
Turning on her heel, she walked back to the living room and dropped onto the couch with a loud creak. The springs groaned beneath her weight, but she didn't care. "Make yourselves comfortable," she muttered, pulling her coat tighter around her.
Caitlyn lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable, before heading to Ivy's old room without a word.
As the night settled into a heavy quiet, Ivy found herself restless on the couch. Something tugged at her, a lingering urge to revisit her old room—not for comfort, but for something more tangible. With a sigh, she pushed herself up, the couch creaking in protest as she made her way to the room where Caitlyn had gone.
The door was slightly ajar, the faint candlelight inside casting a warm glow. Caitlyn was standing near the bed, brushing off the layer of dust from the mattress with a cloth she'd found. She glanced up when Ivy entered, her expression wary.
"What are you doing?" Caitlyn asked softly, her voice more curious than confrontational.
Ivy didn't answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the room, settling on a small, battered wooden box tucked into a corner. Without hesitation, she brushed past Caitlyn, muttering, "Move."
Caitlyn stepped aside, watching as Ivy crouched down and pulled the box out with a grunt. Dust clung to its surface, and the wood creaked faintly under her touch. Ivy's movements were hurried, almost frantic, as she fumbled with the latch before finally prying it open.
When she saw what was inside, her tense shoulders relaxed, and a rare smile cracked across her face—a genuine one, not her usual smirk. She reached in, pulling out a small, intricately designed dagger. The blade was slightly dulled with age, but its craftsmanship was undeniable. The hilt was wrapped in worn leather, and faint carvings of swirling patterns decorated the metal. The blue gem still shined under the dim candlelight.
Caitlyn took a step closer, her gaze softening as she saw the look on Ivy's face. "What is it?"
Ivy ran her fingers over the dagger's hilt, her smile lingering. "This," she said quietly, her voice almost reverent, "was my parents'." She paused, her tone growing softer. "They gave it to me... right before they died. Said it was meant to protect me."
For a moment, the room felt frozen in time, the weight of Ivy's words hanging between them. Caitlyn didn't say anything, her usual sharpness giving way to an understanding silence.
Ivy held the dagger up, tilting it so the faint candlelight glinted off the blade. "I thought it'd be gone," she murmured, her voice more to herself than Caitlyn. "I thought... everything would be gone."
Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice gentle. "It's good that it's still here."
Ivy glanced at her, the vulnerability in her expression quickly masked by her usual guarded demeanor. "Yeah, well," she said, slipping the dagger into her belt, "it's mine now. No one's taking it away again."
She stood abruptly, dusting off her hands. "Don't let the bed bugs bite, Princess," she added with a smirk, her defensive walls snapping back into place.
Caitlyn watched as Ivy left the room, her retreating figure illuminated briefly by the candlelight before disappearing into the shadows. She stayed still for a moment longer, staring at the now-empty box in the corner, her thoughts swirling.
There was more to Ivy than the sharp edges and biting sarcasm. And Caitlyn was starting to see it, piece by fragile piece.
Ivy walked back towards her spot on the couch taking a seat. As the house settled into silence, the weight of the day pressed down on all of them. For a moment, the quiet was almost suffocating—but Ivy found it strangely comforting, her eyes drifting closed as she let herself sink into the familiarity of the broken-down couch. As she drifted to sleep, her mind wandered to other places. She gripped the handle of her dagger her eyes shutting for the rest of the night.
-------------------------------------------
The faint rays of sunlight filtering through the cracks in the boarded-up windows stirred Ivy from her uneasy sleep. She blinked against the light, her body stiff from a night on the broken-down couch. Stretching with a groan, she pushed herself upright and ran a hand through her messy hair.
The faint sound of footsteps drew her attention. Glancing toward her old room, she saw Caitlyn standing by the window, her silhouette framed by the morning light. Her posture was tense, her hands clasped behind her back as she stared out at the quiet undercity streets.
Ivy stood, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. She walked toward Caitlyn quietly, her bare feet padding softly against the dusty floor. "You're up early," Ivy said, her voice low and slightly hoarse from the night.
Caitlyn didn't turn immediately, her gaze still fixed on the view outside. "I've always been an early riser," she replied, her tone calm but distant. "Comes with the job."
Ivy crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorway. "What job? Brooding over criminals or judging me?"
Caitlyn sighed and finally turned to face her, her expression unreadable. "I was just... thinking."
"About?" Ivy prompted, raising an eyebrow.
Caitlyn hesitated, glancing back out the window before meeting Ivy's gaze. "About this place. About you."
Ivy frowned, her walls going up immediately. "Oh, great. Here we go again with the psychoanalysis. Save it, Princess. I've had my fill of lectures for a lifetime."
"It's not a lecture," Caitlyn said softly, her tone disarming. "I was just... wondering how you managed. Growing up here. Losing everything."
The question caught Ivy off guard, and for a moment, her sharp retort faltered. She glanced away, her fingers tightening slightly around her arms. "You don't want to know," she said finally, her voice quieter. "Trust me."
Caitlyn studied her for a long moment, her expression softening. "Maybe I do."
Before Ivy could respond, a loud yawn echoed from the other room. Both women turned toward the sound, breaking the tension. Vi stumbled out of the parents' room, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Morning, sunshine," she greeted Ivy with a lopsided grin. "Sleep well on that luxury couch?"
"Like a queen," Ivy replied dryly, her defenses snapping back into place.
Vi smirked and glanced at Caitlyn, who had already turned back to the window, her usual stoic demeanor returning.
Ivy brushed past Caitlyn and Vi with purpose, heading back into her old room. The clinking and shuffling sounds that followed hinted at her rummaging through the remaining boxes and piles of forgotten belongings. A moment later, she emerged, arms laden with a surprisingly large pile of clothes.
Dumping the pile onto the dusty floor in front of them, she smirked. "Alright, here's the deal. These are mine—well, used to be. They're better than the rags we've been running around in. Pick something that fits and change in your rooms."
Vi crouched down, sifting through the pile with a raised eyebrow. "Damn, Ivy. You've got some style. Didn't peg you for the fashionable type."
Ivy shot her a sarcastic grin. "Don't let it fool you. I can look good while kicking ass."
Caitlyn glanced at the pile skeptically but eventually knelt to sort through the options. "These are... unexpectedly well-kept," she remarked.
"Thanks Sheriff," Ivy said with a mock bow. "Now hurry up and change. We don't have all day."
With that, Vi and Caitlyn each grabbed a few pieces and retreated to their respective rooms to change. Ivy, meanwhile, remained in the living room, grabbing odds and ends from the scattered remnants of her old life. She rifled through a drawer, pulling out scraps of leather, metal rings, and other small trinkets.
Her fingers moved with practiced precision, the motions coming back to her as if no time had passed. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, soft and encouraging: "Always twist it tight, and the knot won't fail you. A blade is useless if it doesn't have a soul to guide it."
Ivy found a small, sharp blade among the scattered debris—a piece she had stashed long ago, now dull with age. She ran her thumb over the edge, her expression softening for a fleeting moment. Then, with quick, efficient movements, she tied a sturdy leather ring to the blade's base, twisting and knotting it until it felt solid in her grip.
When she was done, she held the makeshift dagger up, admiring her handiwork. It wasn't pretty, but it was functional—and it carried a piece of her past.
As she tucked it into her belt, next to her parent's dagger. Vi soon emerged from the room, now dressed in a dark, fitted jacket and pants that looked surprisingly good on her. She struck a mock pose, grinning. "What do you think?"
Ivy snorted. "You look like trouble. So yeah perfect."
Caitlyn followed shortly after, dressed in a sleek, more subdued outfit that still managed to look sharp. She adjusted the cuffs of her jacket, glancing at Ivy. "Satisfied?"
Ivy smirked, her sharp demeanor lightening slightly. "You both clean up alright."
She returned to her old room, brushing her fingers over the dusty remnants of her past. After rummaging through one of the forgotten boxes shoved into the corner, she found it—a set of clothing she hadn't worn in years. The material was still intact, though faded with time. Pulling it out, she ran her fingers over the dark fabric, feeling a surge of familiarity and pride. She remembered each stitch across the fabric, every moment she spent working on it with her mother.
She changed quickly, tossing aside her old, ragged outfit. Piece by piece, the ensemble came together, wrapping her in the identity she had long since shed but never forgotten.
The black hooded cloak settled over her shoulders, its worn fabric light yet resilient. Beneath it, a fitted leather tunic and dark pants hugged her frame. The washed out black top covered her entire torso. A deep, muted scarf wrapped around her neck and over her face, leaving only her piercing green eyes visible beneath the hood. The dark, fingerless gloves slid snugly onto her hands, and she adjusted the belts that cinched her waist, holding an assortment of small pouches and the dagger she had just made. She grabbed a pair of leather brown boots, slipping them onto her cold feet.
She turned toward a cracked mirror propped up in the corner, catching her reflection for the first time in years. The outfit felt like a second skin, a reminder of the life she'd left behind—and the strength she still carried.
Ivy smirked, tilting her head slightly as she took in the complete look. "Now this feels like me," she murmured under her breath.
She pulled the scarf down to rest on her neck, stepping back into the living room where Vi and Caitlyn waited, she drew their attention immediately.
Vi let out an impressed whistle, her grin wide. "Damn, Ivy. You look like you're about to take on the whole undercity by yourself."
Caitlyn's gaze lingered, her expression unreadable. "It's practical," she said finally, though there was a subtle admiration in her tone.
Ivy shrugged, adjusting the hood as she pulled it further over her head. "It's more than practical," she said with a sly smile. "It's fashionable."
Caitlyns smug look didn't completely hide the small smile she was holding back. "We should get going."
With that, Ivy gestured toward the door, following behind Vi and Caitlyn.