valentine—the name associated with the underworld. chuckles escaped the fair haired youth as he walked the empty streets. dawn approached, and the scum of the isle slunk away, disappearing into their hovels and hibernating the sunlight away. valère derived amusement from the actions of the lowlife thugs, who believed themselves to be superior. they, however, bowed to the leader of synister, recognizing his strength and fearing his wrath. if faced with a clash against rapture or wraith, they used their miniature brains and fled, pivoting on their heels and scrambling into the relative safety of the shadows. septimal moon—pale lips quirked into a lazy grin with the thought of the power hungry members of the decimated organization—elicited anger from the inhabitants of the isle’s red light district, for they refused to forgive past grievances and maintained a righteous anger, geared toward the seven seats of the former powerhouse.

ironic, the teenaged informant breathed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric stretching due to the additional weight. the hood shadowed his features, creating an air of mystery around him; however, valère thought the aura suited his chosen occupation. people viewed information brokers in reverence, relying on them to provide accurate intel and to remain impartial in conflicts. steel grey tinted eyes studied the dark storefronts as his walk continued, pace languid and unhurried. few people visited in the brief interlude between morning and night, but he wanted to reach his chosen point of operation. during the night, he traversed the streets freely, collecting intel and gaining additional connections with the outside world. his sacrifice utilized the coveted information and assisted the snowy haired youth whenever possible. their system worked and granted the teen access to higher grade information, which brought the street urchins crawling to his selected alley.

with an explosive sigh, valère veered off the main street, which connected the various districts of selene isle to one another. the darkened alley welcomed the youth as he strode further and further down the narrow expanse; however, his forward momentum ceased as he reached the dead end. most informants preferred to leave themselves with an accessible escape route, but everyone knew valentine bet his life against the odds. people believed in the veracity of his intel due to his reckless behavior, convinced that his willingness to toss aside his life would guaranty their success in their chosen endeavors and secret operations. no one realized that his actions were calculated, based upon the gullibility of humanity and his inferior sense of self-worth. he survived from day-to-day, but in the end, he wanted to greet the afterlife. he accepted his lack of a fairytale existence at a young age, making life seem unbearable on occasion.

hours passed. the sun moved overhead, arching across the endless blue sky and slowly illuminating the alley. people roved the streets, awakened by the sun. they, however, did not seek the pleasures of sex and alcohol. no, they strode purposefully forward—toward their jobs, toward their friends, toward their family, toward their future. as the crowds surged by, silver hued eyes connected with the listless gaze of a young girl. she appeared within the singular breaks in the throng of people, and within the shadows of his hood, a pale brow rose. a patron? he mused aloud, curiosity tainting his tone. with the next break in the crowd, the girl disappeared, but valère expected her to vanish. her reappearance, however, startled him due to her voice ringing out through the alley. the sudden sound caused the male’s body to tense, curling in upon itself and diminishing the youth’s presence. choked laughter escaped him as he lifted a hand to press against his mouth, appendage muffling the sound of his voice.

fingers pressed against his cheeks and jaw as he shifted the gloved appendage, leaving space for his voice to resound through the narrow space. a little birdy? how quaint, he murmured as his petite frame continued to lean against the brick wall. his clothes kept his skin from connecting with the rough surface, and from his chosen vantage point, he would rarely be caught unaware. the bird might have spoken correctly… depends on what you require. pale grey colored eyes gained a mischievous gleam as pale lips quirked into a subtle smirk. adrenaline thrummed through his body as his fingers added additionally pressure to his face, grounding him in reality as he awaited the female’s response to his statement.