Diving Oprhans

Iris hopped down the few steps that led up to the church entrance, mood risen from the wrapped loaf tucked under her arm. Tarros would be waiting for her at the usual rendezvous point, a few streets towards the Crests, but not close enough where the watchguard patrols increased in number to an uncomfortable amount.

She knew attracting attention in these parts was never a comfortable situation to put yourself in, so she waded between the few people going about their business, crossing the street to hug the other side of the cobbled road. At this early time of day, Rynor was still rising in the East, allowing the buildings to cast a healthy amount of shade on this side.

No one gave her a second glance as she strolled along. Everyone was clearly a resident of the lower district, and although Elyria was considered prosperous, that only applied to the Crests and the Heights. Here in the Reaches, the lowest of the three-tiered capital city, people walked about with gloomy faces, dull clothing, and a close hand to any belongings they had on them. Those from the Crests who braved a trip through the Reaches were either leaving the city with a contingent of mercenaries, or bastard nobles on a dare to visit the lower district and make it back without getting robbed. They never would be, as no robber wanted to get into a tussle with crestfolk. Even the least Auris-sensitive of that middle tier was leagues more powerful than the filth of the Reaches.

In a way, she fit right in.

With her rags-for-clothes and bedraggled black hair, some might look at her and gander she was a beggar. They wouldn’t be too far off, the only difference between Iris and a beggar is that she worked for her dues. Not in any official capacity, of course. Just a bit of diving through litter crates behind stores and restaurants. She refused to beg for the clean scraps of others’, plus there was no benevolence to go around the Reaches.

It was everyone for themselves.

Making her way past a few streets, turning right at the tailor, she wrinkled her nose from the smell of urine wafting out of the open windows along the back of the store. A couple alleys beyond that, her destination lay in sight.

The alley was like any other, rats scurrying along the sides while looking for spoiled morsels of food discarded by some of the more well-off residents of the Reaches.

Tarros sat along the wall, head lilting to the side as he fought off the dawn weariness. He’d never been a morning person, preferring to stay up late as the streets were busier during that time, offering better chances to find somewhat fresh scraps.

He looked over towards the sounds of her footsteps approaching, raising a hand in greeting.

“Wow… Didn’t expect you to get here so early.”

She got within a few steps of him, and he finally noticed the package nestled under her arm. Tarros’s breath caught, and he inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring as he took in the cloying scent of freshly baked dough. Immediately, he scrambled to his feet, auburn hair partially splayed over his face with how violently he rose. Sharp jaw quivered as his slightly crooked teeth bit down over his scarred bottom lip. Tarros’s eyes, which were a soft, more muted green than Iris’ own, shone as he locked his gaze on the white cloth.

“Is…that what I think it is?” he asked, voice taking on an almost feral quality.

“Relax! Down, boy. One fresh loaf, courtesy of Elder Varron himself.” She responded with a smile.

With as delicate a hand as she could, she slowly unwrapped the bundle, revealing golden crust, the dough still warm and pliable. She ripped off half, holding it out for Tarros to take. Liked a starved animal, he snatched it and took the largest bite his mouth could handle, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

Through the mouthful, he managed to remember his manners, and muttered, “Fanks.”

She didn’t want to be left out of the party, so she took a bite of her own, savoring the texture, and even more so, the taste. Yeah…anyone who said texture is better than taste was definitely psychotic. Iris swore if she ever became rich, she would still never take food for granted, it was just too delectable.

With more tact than the animal in front of her, Iris swallowed her mouthful before asking Tarros the question.

“You know where Gunther and Amara are diving?”

“No idea, to be honest. They must’ve left early, ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t see them.”

Iris cursed, her frustration mounting with Tarros’s. She hated Gunther, and his girlfriend Amara was a real piece of work too. Iris was convinced Amara hated her for the looks Gunther gave her when he thought Iris wasn’t looking. The thought of it caused her to shiver in disgust.

Although, the looks she received weren’t completely unexpected. Her face was also considered pretty, though not to some supernatural degree. With a partial natural symmetry, fuller lips, and medium-sized nose, most men in the Reaches would accost her plenty on the streets, if not for the fact she liked to keep her head down when out and about.

There were still times some people decided she was an easy target, regardless of her obvious young age, and she had to quickly grow her skill in untangling herself from those situations.

Finishing up with the bread, Iris put the wrapping cloth into her pocket. It would be wrong to throw away something she’d be returning later.

They felt another wave pass through, originating from the direction of the castle well into the Heights. Iris and Tarros knew it was a reminder to get started.

“C’mon, let’s go. I’ve got a good feeling today! Like we are going to find something nice.” said Tarros, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he started walking off.

Iris couldn’t help but let out a short burst of mocking laughter, “Pfft! Last time you said that, what happened? Hmm?”

Tarros’s face reddened, before he spun about and playfully shoved his finger in her face, shooting right back, “What?! It’s not my fault you squealed so loud that everyone could hear us within eight damned city blocks!”

“It had shit on it, Tar! SHIT!”

“So you wipe it on meeee?” Tarros’s voice was close to reaching heights in pitch she didn’t know a boy’s—almost a man’s—-could make.

“Well, what else was I going to—hey! I’m not done! Where are you going?!” She laughed as she jogged to catch up to an exasperated Tarros.

After a number of twists and turns, Tarros and Iris found a less-visited side alley hugging the outer wall that separated the city from the woodlands, one large litter crate overflowing with waste and other detritus. The side alley only had one entrance, and based on its location between the rear-facing ends of a tavern and a brothel, there was no telling what they would find in there. There was no honor in diving, but there was nothing to lose either. She just hoped she didn’t lose her sanity going through this crate.

Tediously and carefully, they started sorting through the waste, moving already-looked-through ‘goods’ to a pile off to the side. They stayed away from everything with a slimy or sticky look, as this was not one of the crates you played the guessing game on.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Anything good?” She asked.

“Nah, nothin’ yet. Just the normal crap—old food, broken plates, clothes that are more stain than cloth.” He gave a sigh, one that she could empathize with.

Hands on her hips, she could feel that same sigh creeping up, kicking the crate in frustration. “Yeah, same here. It’s like there’s never anything good. Ugh!”

“I mean… it is a litter crate.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two continued on with their search, pushing aside random bits of clothing and other items they didn’t want to know the origin of. Everything was fine until a scuff of a boot gave them an indication they had newcomers.

Both Iris and Tarros dropped what they were holding, whipping around and lowering into a slight crouch as they prepared to face whatever scoundrel felt the need to creep up on two diving orphans.

Recognizing Gunther’s mischievous yellowed smile and his even more imposing figure allowed them to slightly relax, glad it wasn’t a watchguard, but fight or flight response not fully receding.

Gunther was every bit as disgusting as his name implied. With a crooked nose, overly large ears, and light brown eyes that weren’t at the same height on his face, it was a wonder why his girlfriend was with him. More mind-bending to Iris was the sheer size of the orphan, especially in the midriff area. How an orphan got to that size gave Iris a never ending feeling of confusion, even if she knew he extorted other orphans for their food and findings in return for his “protection.”

What he was protecting them from was anyone’s guess.

Next to him, Amara had a permanent scowl plastered over her face, hateful darker brown eyes piercing through Iris’ multicolored own, as if she was mentally commanding her to kick the bucket as soon as possible. What Iris had done to her was anyone’s guess, as the taller girl with black hair of her own never gave her the reason behind her incessantly horrible treatment and loathing.

“Damn, was hoping to sneak up on you guys, give you a little spook.” Gunther said, smile never faltering.

Iris closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath through her nose, centering herself before responding to the annoyance that was Gunther.

“Go away shit face, we haven’t found shit.”

“Come on… you must’ve found something in that trash heap!” Gunther responded. He took the chance as Iris’ eyes glanced over to the litter crate to rove his eyes over her form. She still noticed, of course, and unfortunately, so too did Amara. Her scowl managed to deepen further, eyes flicking back to Iris with even more hate.

By the Mother these two had a problem.

As usual, Amara didn't make her thoughts known, which was scary in it’s own right. Iris would rather the four of them just duke out their differences here and now, but there were two issues with that. For starters, she didn’t want to put Tarros in that position, even if he tried to remind her that he would fight alongside her any day. In addition to that, even though she knew Tarros would probably win against the larger orphan—what with Tarros’s unending grit and Gunther’s unending gut—but she didn’t know if she could win against Amara.

It was the sense that something felt dangerous about Amara. Like she was a caged animal, rage simmering, waiting to be released on an unsuspecting target. Due to her closeness with Gunther, she also had the benefit of gorging herself off the goods of his extortion. This led to her body being more filled out, but unlike Gunther’s, her body looked more lean, like a farm animal that had been put through a strict diet to keep away the fat while maintaining muscle.

Even in the shadow of the alley, Iris could still see the soft outlines of Amara’s toned stomach through the gap between her shirt and pants. She’d be jealous—if it weren’t for the fact that Amara was an absolute conniving bitch…yeah she was still jealous.

Iris was the one who ended up taking the lead in handling the obese orphan.

“You know what, Gunther? How about this? You two go ahead and take the rest of this one, we weren’t having any luck anyway.”

Tarros looked over at Iris incredulously. There was no way she was just going to give away the rest of the crate…right? They were only about halfway done with the dive, surely they could find something in all the refuse that was left! But Iris just looked over at him and gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head. As much as he didn’t want to give away any potential finds, he would follow Iris on this. She had the better judgment between them anyways.

“That’s cause you two wouldn’t know what a good find looks like.” He snorted, and for the second time today Iris was failing to see how people made themselves laugh so much.

Maybe it had to do with her always being hungry. Hard to laugh when laughing caused you more abdominal pain.

Giving Tarros a look, Iris slowly made her way through the gap between Gunther and Amara, not even bothering to look at the former. But Amara? Iris watched every twitch of the hands, muscles of the face, looking for any sign of aggression or promise of action against her.

Meanwhile, Tarros had to shove his way past Gunther—without much success. It was hard to move something twice your weight.

Once they were in the clear, Tarros leaned over and nearly spat, “By the Mother, Iris! The hell was that?! You just give them our spot!”

She gave him a sly side-eye as she said, “Think about it, you dingus. There might have been a potential find, but just as likely not! Also, and hear me out on this–now we don’t have to wonder where they are for the rest of the day.”

With Tarros’s eyes widening in comprehension, she kept adding more timber to the flame. “You saw the size of that crate. Even with Amara there, it’s going to take them the rest of the day to go through it all. I say we just go find another crate, maybe closer to the Crests, and we might get lucky. Yeah?”

The more she talked, the more his head started bobbing in agreement. Excitement returning, they made their way towards the Crests, the wall dividing the two easily seen towering above the rooftops in the distance.

***

Amara

God that fucking treacherous…whore.

Amara worked with a passion that reflected the unbridled fury she felt towards Iris. Oh how she wished she could get her hands around that pretty little neck so she could wring the life out of her. And she could only pray to the Mother, or whatever fucking diety was up there, that Gunther would be there to watch as the life went out of the little wench’s eyes. Her body gave a little tremble of excitement whenever she found herself drifting into those daydreams.

At some point, Amara had forgotten when she started hating Iris. But she certainly knew why.

It was the way she looked at everyone. Something about her just screamed “I dare you to fucking try me.”

And Amara couldn’t stand it. She would love to get her hands on Iris, but she refrained, as Gunther obviously had a thing for the bitch. If she did something, then she would lose Gunther.

And what would she do without her easy access to the goods other orphans brought back?

The other little shits could call her Gunther’s girlfriend, or whatever else they wanted to. She didn’t care. All she cared about was putting Iris in her fucking place. She thought she was too good to sleep with the other orphans? Eat the same food? What made her special? How come she got to sleep alone in the privacy of the church? Why did Amara get stuck with the riff raff?

At least she got to stick it to the slut when her and Gunther forced both Iris and Tarros to give up the crate. There had to be a reason they chose this one, so why the fuck wasn’t she finding anything?! She kicked a clumped pile of spoiled food, launching chunks all over the alley, her boot faring no better.

Gunther, the dumb brute who had the gall to consider her an equal—possibly even someone lesser, looked over with a cocked brow and asked, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” she responded, making sure to give him a gentle smile.

He shrugged, turning back to his sorting. He struggled to even bend over completely, gut getting in his way. She honestly didn’t know how people hadn’t thought of the name Gutther, it was a perfect fit for such a disgusting individual.

So why was it that those two cretins had left without a fight?

Unless…

“I gotta go check on something real quick.”

Gunther turned back to her, ready to ask what she was going on about, but she was already gone by the time his large bulk had finally made the turn.