Five years later
Zurich was a child that others couldn't help but take a liking to. She was small and weak, always needing someone to be keeping a watchful eye—for, she didn't have the best of luck in the world. Skinned knee after skinned elbow, dogs snatching up her food and making off with it, or plain going unseen in gatherings and begging.
She was, in all sense, a people pleaser. She enjoyed seeing others happy, and even more enjoyed being the one to make them so happy. It was something she was very, very good at—she would sit and listen to the older folks of the alley tell their tales, and find ways to bring them blankets in the coldest nights of winter. She would keep small fires going to warm their joints or unfreeze a broth, and even sit in utter silence to just bring comfort with her presence.
Gap was proud of the girl, he was. He bragged, in good nature, that he had raised one of the best children in the alley, and that she'd be one of the few to crawl up and make something of herself. Few did, but those who managed had stories of whispered successes and guilds and businesses to shift through the whispers of the damned. He never wanted her to be a criminal, but even so, he tried to teach her the arts of subtlety and thievery, quick-talking and pickpocketing. Zurich never liked it so much, though. The best she'd manage to do is look pitiful enough, curled up on a main road, to get one or two silvers, or a handful of coppers at the most.
But she was still so, so young, Gap reasoned—only just six. Or so, he said; he had told the lass that her birthday was the warmest day of the summer months, where she would blossom into a bigger person, beautiful, smart and crafty, always to survive.
And was Zurich the survivor, of any. She had no mind for initiating violence, nor any mind to seek it. And when it did find her, she would not break, she would not cave in and become meek. Nor did she exactly fight back, but she had the smarts to please even the illest of minds to grow bored, or agree to leave her alone.
She was the kind of girl you'd either want to protect, or control whilst believing you were protecting her.
And that was where Dee came in.
Dee was three years older than Zurich, nine. Boys usually ran the small 'gangs' that the children of the alley made in their playtime, but Dee was the toughest lass at the time—tougher than a grand deal of the boys, as well. She was reckless, without filter, and only respected those that she figured she could manipulate. She had a small amount of followers, more than what any of the other 'gangs' could manage to scrap. If anyone tried to switch loyalties, they'd meet Dee's fist and foot until she was convinced they'd stay.
She had had her eyes on Zurich for some time, now.
Small and innocent, happy always, and looked as if she'd surely grow up to be beautiful. Her hair was always kept long, flowing red curls, accented by clear blue eyes that were lit up as if they'd never truly see the bad in the world.
Dee wasn't one to collect material items. She preferred to have her collection of other kids, ones to boss around and speak to as she'd please. It was her way of showing affection, she'd reason—she would never hit someone until they agreed to stay if she didn't like them so much. And for being nine, she had quite the fist! Three bloody noses under her wing already!
But of her collect of six followers, she wanted another.
She wanted little Zurich to be her prize. She would flaunt the loyalty of the adorable girl, much like someone would show off their prize hen. And when Dee decided that she truly did want something, she got it.
“Zurich?”
A sing-song voice filled the spring air, morning mist wisping in opposite directions from the spoken voice.
The small red-head gave a jump of surprise, having wondered in her young mind during breakfast, a soggy hunk of bread the size of her fist. Wide blue eyes became wider, recognizing the girl for who she was. Hadn't Da told her to keep away from Dee? She's trouble, that girl—nothin' but no manners and lies. That's what Da told her, she was sure. And it was best to keep away from liars and rude folks, 'cause they'd only just get you in there trouble! And Zurich belonged in no trouble, it wasn't the place for her.
But Dee didn't look like she was going to leave. And Zurich couldn't just ignore her, could she? That'd be rude, and rude was bad. So the lass straightened up, and despite all bad feelings, beamed a large ad friendly smile to the older girl.
“Hullo!” She'd chirp, good nature songful in her tone.
Dee seemed to take this as invention to approach, skipping forward. She'd crouch down in front of Zurich, grinning herself. Zurich was reminded of a dog getting ready to bite. And bite she did—her hand lashed out, snatching the bread right from Zurich's hand! She looked as if she were going to cry, seeming stunned.
“H-Hey..” She'd mumble in protest. Normally, she'd huff and puff her cheeks out, but Dee scared her. She wasn't someone Zurich was sure she should try to argue with. Anything wouldn't have worked, most likely. The older grin just kept her dog-grin, ripping off a chunk of the food with baring teeth. She wouldn't say anything until having properly chewed and swallowed it, amused greatly by the already defeated-looking Zurich.
“I'm lookin' for new members,” she'd say, then, giving no elaboration of her small 'gang'. She would be just so utterly insulted if the girl somehow didn't know of them! The surprise on Zurich's face spoke enough of how she was aware of them. The girl, with no more bread to busy her hands, rose them up to her locks of toiling red hair, small fingers plucking into them, catching in the knots and tangles.
“..I'm only six,” she'd state, more dumbfounded than anything else. This earned an ever-so amused snort from the taller girl, who with a flick of her head, displayed the flowing length of her nearly black hair. It came halfway down her back, elegant in color more than it was body. Her own eyes were a piercing green, judgmental and damning on their own.
“You don't gotta' do a thing,” she'd assure the young girl, a manipulative charismatic at work at such a young age. “Everyone likes to take care of ya', yeah? I wanna take care of ya'. My turn.” She'd beam a wide smile, arms opening out to the side, as if trying to piece together a grand picture. “We got better food than yer moldy bread! An' lots of blankets..I even got a tent! You could stay innit with me.”
Zurich had a tarp, living with Gap. But the man was older and becoming sickly—it was all he could do to manage them bread for a week. Having better things and new things, though, was not something that the girl constantly desired. She was happy to live with the man that was her father, as far as she knew.
It was then the teasing of fate that delayed what was inevitable: Zurich had not a chance to try and say no, before Gap appeared. He would personally shoo away the young trouble maker, creaking bones afterwards settling beside the girl he guiltly called his daughter.
Then the events followed; the amount of shock and lack of fairness is told best bluntly.
One. Gap admitted he was not her real father. He only just told her that her real ones were killed—not that he did it.
Two. He told her her name was Sylvia Moore.
Three. She cried herself to sleep, and he was to guilty to try and comfort her.
Four. When she woke, the sickly Gap was dead.
Five. No one in the alley likes to take on a new mouth to feed. The other elders rejected her.
Six. There was no one but Dee.
Life simply like to grab and yank, didn't it, little Zurich? A questionably tragic past, which has only just begun.
