#immortalfics

` The storm had turned the streets into a ghost town—wind howling like some furious beast outside. Cordelia moved briskly, her sleek protective gear glinting faintly under the dim streetlights as she reached the apartment door. She rapped her knuckles against it—sharp, deliberate taps. “Auntie,” Cordelia called, voice dry with amusement as she tugged her hood back. “I know you’re in there. Unless you’ve decided to ride out the storm in some dive bar—which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise me.” She leaned against the doorframe, arms folding across her chest. “Let me in, would you? I’ve got something for you.” The faint clink of glass from her bag suggested whatever she was carrying wasn’t just ration tins—likely a rare bottle of something stronger.

He didn't have any clue how he ended up in Sector 6. He swore he took the shuttle to 7. Izzy, instead of rationalizing his situation, kicked the trashcan in his anger. He just wanted to go home. Instead now he had kicked the can and hurt his foot. Izzy was cursing incoherent words before realizing someone was there. Izzy stopped and sat down. He was still nursing his foot when he said.

"Nice weather we're having."

` The alley smelled kinda weird—like old trash and fish—but Rowan didn’t mind. She was sitting on a crate, swinging her legs and playing with a shiny silver lighter she definitely found all by herself. It flipped open and closed with a little click-click sound, and she liked that. She heard footsteps and froze for a second, fingers twitching like she wanted to run. But instead, she just blinked up at the person coming closer, tilting her head like a curious little animal. “Huh,” she mumbled, stuffing the lighter into the pocket of her too-big hoodie. “I think I seen you before.” She squinted at them real hard, like that would help her remember. A long pause. “…Wait. Do I owe you stuff?” That seemed important. Sometimes people got real mad if she forgot. Her nose scrunched a little, and she leaned forward, sniffing the air just a bit—like that might help too. Then, after another long pause, she spoke again, very serious: “Gil told me not to talk to strangers- but" she paused, head tilting as she sniffed the air again "you ain't a stranger?"