“That’s a latte and a ham and egg breakfast sandwich!” a lavender-haired young woman called out over the bar.

“Heard!” the tan-skinned young man in the kitchen called out in reply.

“I’m on it!” a blue-haired boy with glasses said as he began to grind the espresso beans.

It was morning, and the restaurant was bustling as Astrid entered, followed by the odd white cat.

“Hey, kitty!” she said as she tried to shoo the creature out the doorway. “This isn’t a place for kitties!”

If this cat goes wild, they’ll never let me have food...

“Joseph!” the young boy behind the counter said as he placed the latte he had just finished making down for the young woman to retrieve.

The cat...Astrid frowned at the absurdity. Has a human name...

“We’ve been looking for you all morning, man!” the boy’s voice was soft and gentle.

Suddenly, the small cat began to morph, its tiny figure expanding as its muscles grew and formed the shape of a man.

“’Sup guys!” the cat, now human, said as he dusted off his clothes, ran his hands through his long white hair, and wiggled his cat-like ears. “I’m not too late, right?”

“H-hey!” Astrid exclaimed.

Joseph softly took her by the hand and held his hand to his heart. “And what might your name be, beautiful?”

Astrid jerked her hand away. “Don’t even try it, cat-ears. I know how your type is.” Cat-boy on not, she’d dealt with charmers and flirts.

Joseph’s ears twitched as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Not all men are pigs, darling. That’s what you call a ‘stereotype.’”

“Y-you were a cat! How are you a...person now?” Astrid said, irritated.

“Oh!” the young boy from behind the counter said as he approached. “Joseph is a Beastfolk, so he can turn into an animal alter-ego, and vice-versa. Beastfolk aren’t native in the Outskirts, so I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“What can I say?” Joseph shrugged, lighting his cigarette. “I’m a cat.”

Astrid frowned. “Well I don’t like you!”

“Eh.” He blew out smoke, not bothered by the other’s irritation. “I’m not for everyone, I guess. Oh well.”

“I’m Uri, by the way!” the blue-haired boy said, his green eyes soft behind his big round glasses. “I’m Philos’ younger brother. I haven’t seen you around, what’s your name—”

“Joseph Blakes!” a woman’s voice resounded through the shop. Everyone turned to see the lavender-haired young woman storming toward the Beastfolk.

“Oh no.” Joseph went pale. “Not her...”

“You’re late for work.” Her face was filled with rage. “Again.”

“V-Vylet, I—” Joseph stuttered.

“Alphonso has needed you in the kitchen all morning!”

Joseph hung his head and walked toward the kitchen. “Alright, alright...”

“Uri,” she said, turning to the blue-haired boy, her voice noticeably softer and kinder. “I need three lattes, a mocha, and a red eye.”

Uri smiled, his face brightening. “Sure thing Vylet!”

“These boys are going to be the death of me,” she sighed.

Vylet looked at Astrid for a moment, studying her silently.

“Red hair...” Vylet mumbled. “Strange eyes...”

Astrid felt her blood turn cold. Vylet probably knew—she could just feel herself about to be kicked out.

“Oh!” Vylet’s brown eyes lit up. “You must be Astrid! Philos told me about you!”

“He...did? What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing much. He just said that you were wild and grumpy and that he told you that you could eat for free.”

“Wild?” Astrid frowned. “I-I am not grumpy!”

“It will be good to have another girl around!” Vylet forced a smile through her anger. “Babysitting these guys isn’t fun.”

“Hey, Mr. Pal!” Joseph yelled, talking to the old, thin man holding a coffee cup. “Think I can eat all this without a drink?”

Pal Burns smiled, taking a sip of coffee. “Five sylver says you choke and die.”

“You’re on, old man!”

“Joseph...” Uri said softly, obvious concern in his voice. “Think about this. That’s a mound of cinnamon.”

“I ain’t scared!” the young man’s cat ears flattened as he dumped the spoon into his mouth.

Vylet’s eye began to twitch as she watched Joseph cough and grasp for air.

“Are you...” Astrid said slowly. “Are you okay, Vylet?”

The other woman turned, her face red, so red that Astrid imagined fumes. “Am I okay?” Her eye twitched again as she forced a happy smile. “I’m completely fine.”

“Hey, dog-breath!” a deep voice thundered as the tan, muscular young man exited the kitchen. “You ain’t gonna die today! We’ve got orders to fill, and I ain’t doin’ ‘em myself!”

“Alright, alright, fatso!” Joseph said after clearing his throat with a drink. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Fatso?!” the other raged. “What was that, you stupid dog?”

“I’m a cat, idiot!” Joseph fumed. “C-a-t! cat!”

“I don’t care what’ya are! Just help me make these damn sandwiches!”

“Alphonso!” Vylet caught his attention. “This is Astrid! Come say hello!”

Alphonso threw a towel over his broad shoulders. “Weird eyes, eh?” he said as he got closer. “Philos wasn’t lyin’ when he said you’re eyes were unique. Said you’re a dancer, too?”

“Um, I...” Astrid started.

“Alphonso.” Vylet’s voice was curt.

He shrugged. “What? I didn’t know that Philos was into loose women—”

He stopped immediately as Vylet sent him a glare sharp enough to cut a diamond.

“Be. Nice,” she said in a low, dark growl.

“Alright, alright.” Alphonso combed his stylish hair with his big hand, grumbling as he entered the kitchen once more.

“Anyway,” Vylet said. “Let me get you a menu, and we’ll get that food started for you.”

“Th-thank you, Vylet.”

The other girl smiled. “Of course. Any friend of Philos is always welcome here!”

Astrid sat at the table, a whole menu before her. This place, she thought, is definitely strange. These people were even weirder. Uri, Joseph, Alphonso, and Vylet...they all saw her eyes, but they didn’t seem to care. It seemed as if they didn’t even know who she was.

It made her uncomfortable, actually. She realized that she had actually never experienced this type of hospitality. She knew she should enjoy it...but...did she really deserve it? All her life, she was told that she was a devil. Had all of the years of hate made her believe that she actually was one? Her heart sank.

I don’t deserve this...

“Hey!” the familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

Astrid looked up to see Philos, his apron soaking wet.

“I was doing the dishes when they told me you came by,” he said, smiling stupidly. “So I thought I could at least say hey.”

“Hey...” She fidgeted her fingers. “Thanks...for this...by the way.”

“For the food? Absolutely!” his reddish-brown eyes seemed so naive.

Astrid sighed. He’s like a hyper puppy...

“We’re a restaurant! Feeding people is what we do. We’re even hiring, too! You could work here—”

“Stop right there.” Astrid’s voice went rigid. “Look. You guys are nice and all, and I’m really gracious for the food, but...”

Philos stopped. The air had changed. He looked at her, how she fidgeted her thumbs. He looked into her eyes. Something was there, something that bothered her deeply.

I see... he thought, you too, then. I was right...

“I can’t just...” she felt her hands begin to sweat. “Leave. I...” Her throat became tight. “I’m a dancer. I’m not...my own...person...”

She looked upward. He was staring at her. She stared into those reddish eyes. There was something different. A strange hollowness in them. They felt...familiar...they felt like her own.

“Astrid.” he finally said, his voice solemn, the naivety suddenly absent. “Where did you get your name?”

An odd question, she thought.

“I don’t know,” she said after a while. “I’ve just always known that Astrid was my name. I don’t remember parents or family. It just feels like I’ve always been in this city, and that I’ve always been hated.”

“But you have your name.” Philos began wistfully. “Listen, Astrid. You may think you’re in chains, but as long as you have your name, you’re never too far gone.”

“What do you mean?”

The stupid grin returned to his face. “Oh, well I used to be a—”

“Food time!” Vylet sang as she approached with a large plate of eggs, bacon, and a big waffle. “I know you had a menu, but Alphonso said he wanted to give you the ‘Alphonso Special,’ whatever that is. I think he just now made that up.”

Astrid’s mouth began to water as she looked at the perfectly cooked foods upon her plate.

“Syrup or honey?” Vylet asked, winking.

“I, uh—”

“We’ll go with syrup,” she said. “Just try it. Trust me.”

“I’ll get back to the dishes!” Philos said, standing. He turned to his new friend and smiled. “I hope we get to talk again soon, Astrid!”

“Y-yeah—”

But, just as mysteriously as he had appeared, once more Philos had walked away.

“Don’t worry,” Vylet said, smiling. “I’m sure we’ll all be fast friends.”

 

Guard Captain Miles Emerson strode down the hallways of the Apocrypha Clinic, a sour frown upon his face. He didn’t want to be here, although he had to be; he didn’t want to deal with the problem that had arisen. It was disgraceful. For a man of his guard to be messing around with dancers? Disgraceful. But that wasn’t what bothered him.

No. What bothered him was not that the guard was beaten to a pulp, but rather who did it.

“Room number two-sixteen,” he sighed as he entered.

There in the room, the guardsman lay on the bed, his leg and arm elevated, each in a cast.

“Captain! I—” he began.

“Shut up,” Emerson cut him off. “Don’t try and hide it from me. Your two buddies ratted you out pretty thoroughly. You’ll be turning in your sword and your insignia. You’re more than fired.”

“But—”

“There’s no arguing here,” Emerson cut him off once more. “Now. Tell me what happened. There’s something I need to know. Who did this to you?”

“Some kid!” the guardsman coughed. “He was weird too! I hit him once, got a really good shot in, too! But...”

“Talk to me,” Emerson said, lighting a cigarette. “What happened?”

“It was so weird! I gave him a big bruise on his face, but it just...disappeared—it was like his body healed itself instantly, I—!”

“That’s all I need to know.” Emerson puffed his cigarette. “Looks like just deserts for you, if I do say so myself.”

This is bad, he thought as he walked out of the room. He could feel sweat permeate, causing his leather armor to stick to his brown skin.

But there was a particular reason why this was worse than bad.

He sighed. “Guess I gotta give Pal Burns a visit...”

Evening light splashed hues of gold through the windows of the clinic hallway, casting shadows upon the wall for each passerby. Emerson took another puff of his cigarette, his mind swirling.

Pal, he thought, have you told them about who you are? Your grandsons, do they know?

“Philos...Uri...” he spoke under his breath. “Do they know what they are? Do they know the power that lies in their bloodline?” He exhaled deeply. “What a bother...”