SCARS

Shadows of Trust

Since her interaction with her new cohabitants, Calypso—no, Cal— had spent most of her time with Vander in the upstairs bar, tucked away in a corner as he described the rules of the undercity to her. Though his voice was stern, she found his ruggid accent oddly soothing.

Vander, ever the protector, had deemed it necessary for Calypso to blend in with the Zaun populace, exchanging her conspicuous topside attire for more subdued undercity garments. He had insisted on a dark hooded cloak, its fabric worn but serviceable, concealing her almost completely from prying eyes in the Last Drop. He had explained that it would help her avoid drawing 'unwanted attention' to herself as he called it, a concept that unnerved her slightly.

She couldn't shake off the unsettling thought that perhaps the cloak served a dual purpose, not only concealing her face but also masking the distinctive feature that set her apart from the people of Zaun—her golden locks. Vi's warning echoed in her mind, every time the fabric brushed against her hair.

Now, Calypso sat on the floor of the basement, her attention divided between her task of cleaning goblets per Vanders orders, and the muffled voices of Powder, Vi, Mylo, and Claggor as they conversed on the nearby couch. Their words drifted to her in fragments, snippets of conversation that hinted at plans and schemes beyond her comprehension.

Vi's voice, bold and commanding, rose above the others as she outlined the details of their upcoming raid. It was to be a "real job," as Vi called it, a chance to prove themselves. Calypso couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity at the mention of such a dangerous undertaking, but she quickly pushed it aside. This was not her world, not her place to interfere.

Suddenly, their voices, previously filled with casual determination, now carried a hint of hesitation and uncertainty. Their voices grew significantly quieter, causing Calypso's expression to fall in disappointment as she realized eavesdropping would no longer be so easy.

"Should we ask her?" She heard a boy's voice whisper, though she couldn't determine which.

Powder's response was immediate and loud enough to carry through to Calypso. "Who, Cal?"

Calypso's heart skipped a beat as her new name rang out in the dimly lit basement. She glanced up from her task, meeting Powder's gaze from across the room with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

Vi's voice cut through the Calypso's newfound enthusiasm like a blade, sharp and decisive. "No, we're not involving her."

Calypso's stomach churned with disappointment at Vi's words. But despite the sinking feeling in her chest, Calypso couldn't suppress the flicker of hope that ignited within her. At least they had debated including her, even if it was just for a moment.

"I want to help," Calypso's voice was steady, as she stood up carefully. "Please,"

Mylo shook his head at Calypso's words, his disdain evident. "Eh, we don't need another dead weight slowing us down," he remarked, "We already have one." he continued, rolling his eyes as he gestured towards Powder, earning him a swift pillow to the face from Vi.

"Hey!" Mylo protested, catching the pillow and throwing it back with a playful grin.

Vi's gaze hardened as she glared at Calypso, her expression unreadable. "We can't trust you," she said, her voice cold and clipped. "You're not one of us."

As Vi's words hung in the air, Calypso's heart sank like a stone. She watched as Powder, who seemed to be the only one out of the group who didn't hate her, shrank back at Vi's declaration, her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. It was clear that Vi's opinion held a significant weight among their group, and Calypso couldn't help but feel a pang of realization at the extent of Vi's influence.