(( this chapter may as well be named, 'i gave my character a bad name and this is my crappy explanation of how she got it'. in which the moral is, don't give your character a weird name like zurich. ))
Sylvia Moore.
Many crimes occurred in Bree, and not every one made a tale of sympathy to be whispered in the streets. Even some murders pulled little interest, especially should it just be another poverty-stricken homeless man or woman. Unidentifiable, unknown, unclaimed.
But the murder of two parents caught wind—no one could find the child. Enough roamed the Begger's Alley that no singular child or babe could be accounted for being specifically someone; Gap pulled off that his shady sister from his shady past had brought him the child in the middle of the night. Some knew of the heist he and Shaun had planned and left to execute, but they had enough smarts about them to not snitch. There was no reward for the missing girl, it would seem.
She had no family to return to, no known cousins, aunts or uncles, grandparents or the such.
And her name was Sylvia Moore.
She was about a year old; he didn't know her specific birthday.
She wasn't yet walking, either. The lass was incredibly tiny for her age, just barely less helpless than a newborn. She could crawl, but she preferred to stay in the warmth of her quilt. He had kept it, a week after, for it only seemed appropriate. He knew that she wouldn't recollect a single detail of her unfortunate loss of family, but it seemed too cruel to just rip every last stitch from who she was.
But he couldn't go calling her 'Sylvia'. The murder and kidnapping of a child would hardly be explainable, if someone were to piece everything together. She'd need a new name, and he hadn't the slightest clue of where to go finding it. He figured she'd just be another lass with another odd name, for the men and women born of the streets were a different breed entirely from most of the city.
He sat, now, his back slumped against the wall, cradling the child to his chest. Her arms were free of the binding cloth, resting easily over her front. Wide eyes, both a piercingly calm blue, stared up expectantly at him.
“Yer goin' to be growin' up calling me da, aren't you?” He'd sigh out, the weight of his choices feeling all too real. He had done bad things, as a person he didn't consider that bad, but never quite been hit by repercussions so badly. He knew that it was his choice to take the consequences as he did, but he knew as well that he'd have a hard time dealing with just seeing the girl appear elsewhere on the streets, with another man to try and guide her through life.
Sylvia's eyes glinted at his words, and he wondered if she were even old enough talk, or to understand anything...At all. He didn't know much about children. Only that he, and many others that had come to see the lass, could hardly believe how old she was.
“I'll be da...And I 'ave no clue what I'll call ye'.”
She gurgled out a string of nonsense child noises, and he'd repeat them; the lass giggled in response, and a fatherly nature begun to shine around Gap.
“Ye' want -that- to be yer name?” He'd playfully scoff, pulling an exasperated face. This rewarded him with more joyful exclamations from Sylvia. “I think thas' a horrible name. Maybe ye' just ain't sayin' it clear enough.
She'd giggle, giving another string of baby mumbles; this one, though, he'd find a noise that had an odd ring to it.
Of course, she hadn't said something comprehensive, somewhere along the lines of 'suuuuhfic', but one could replay a word in his mind enough that it'd eventually begin to make sense where none was. a
“Zur...Ich,” he'd mumble out, testing the name. “Zurich. Zurich. Zurich.”
Sylvia would pull a face, hew jaw opening as she'd give a long yawn.
“Oh, hush, girl. It's better than what you came up with.”
