It takes a week for us to get accustomed to the city. We're still not fully assimilated but we could pass at first glance. Dior and I have been frequenting main street.
That's where all the attractions are. Zara and Perada said that mingling with the townsfolk would be our best bet at getting the hang of pretending to be a peakie.
Our first few days we didn't encounter any kids our age. Instead we gorged ourselves with the delicious street vendors.
Growing up we have only sustained ourselves with ghoul meet and the occasional mystical berries that we found growing in the abyss.
We lost many kids due us not being able to differentiate the difference between the poisonous ones and the edible ones.
You'd think we'd avoid them altogether but we were desperate enough to risk our lives to taste anything besides ghoul stew.
The sweets were Dior's favorite. Bakery's that had bread filled with fruits and custards; every time I watched her consume them, it looked like she was melting into herself.
I personally couldn't get enough of dairy products. There was this one food... Pizza? It was this concoction of cheese, bread, and tomatoes; and let me tell you, that shit was heavenly.
Also just straight up milk was such a rare treat. It had a hint of sweetness, the texture was thicker than water but not sappy like honey, and it was refreshing.
Ghoul milk was impossible to obtain in the abyss. Imagine a flesh eating demon... now imagine walking up to milk that bastard.
Needless to say, culinary invention in the peaks was far superior to ours. Nearly every other thing was far superior as well, all but the peakies spirit.
On our third day, we came across a sporting event of sorts. They had nets on either end, a ball and kids our age were kicking it on either end of the field, aiming for the nets.
It seemed like they were divided into teams. Their technique was precise. Their movements were calculated. But their hearts wavered so easily. They were soft.
Once Dior and I asked to join, it only took us a few hours to figure it out. Once we understood the mechanics of the game, we demolished them.
They had a competitive drive, they had unyielding motivation for perfection; but they lacked hunger, they lacked what we had: resolve.
We were willing to die on that field to win. All right I'm actually kidding, they didn't lose because we had a stronger spirit.
They lost because I was the goalie and my super vision paired with my speed made scoring impossible for them. I'd like to think we're more mentally tough though.
After the game they all gave us praise. The guys showered Dior with more praise though, mostly because she scored all the goals. The goalie always gets left in the shadow.
One of the guys, tall, and muscular, places his hand on Dior's shoulder, laughing at one of her jokes a little too hard.
I glare at him but he doesn't seem to notice. Dior does though, and she awkwardly shrugs his arm off. He invites us to his house.
Dior accepts and I begrudgingly follow. There are two other girls as well as one other guy that comes along with us.
They seem close, like they've all known each other their whole lives. I can sense they share the same bond the kids back the orphan colonies had.
"Have you guys lived here your whole lives?" Dior asks.
"No silly we all lived in the abyss!" One of the girls, the one with short pig tails and closer to my height, says in a teasing manner.
Dior and I don't laugh, we don't even smile; but the rest of the group found it amusing because they burst out almost dying of laughter.
"Vatu is the only one who has lived in the higher sectors. His dad is welder, and before their decline, his family got to enjoy the luxurious high life of the alter." The other guy, not the one that invited us, but the shorter, less muscular one, puts his arm around my shoulder as he speaks.
As if they don't live in luxury already. The overly friendly kid that invited himself into my comfort zone is close enough that I can feel his thin frame. He isn't built like the muscly kid, Vatu, who invited Dior.
He wears hexagonal glasses. I doubt he needs them, sculptors can replace bad eyes, I think he just wears it like jewelry. His pits should reek of sweat but instead I smell roses, he's wearing perfume. His ear facing me is adorned with precious jewelry.
They love glamor here for some reason. That shit would get annoying, dangling from my sensitive parts.
At any moment someone could snag their nose, ears, and brows where their skin is pinched by stone.
Shiny stones doesn't change anything, it'll still hurt like hell if someone strikes them there.
The only thing that adorns me is my humble leather pendant. It's only beauty lies in its intricate weave. There is hints of color and the sweet scent of my mother's candles, but overall it pales in comparison to the peaks standards for glamour.
"It's not all that different up there. Besides, mom is a successful sculptor, so we still got that high life." Vatu says with a proud grin.
He glances at Dior, hoping to get a reaction of interest out of her. To my surprise, she does. What is she scheming?
"Ohhhh your mom is sculptor? I heard they're the richest members of the doghouse..." Dior purrs and bites at the bait, covering her mouth in a surprised gesture.
She is spoon feeding this mans ego and I don't like it. Not because I'm jealous, but because I know she's cooking up something devious in her head.
"Doghouse? Ha! I've never heard one of us call it that. It's the hound's darling. Doghouse is what the higher sectors call it. Those arrogant peakie fucks." The other girl, taller than Dior and more built, says in a bitter tone.
"I'm surprised you didn't already know that. Also, you talk kinda funny. You over pronunciate each word, it's like you're trying to sound it out between breaths; round it out darling, let your words roll off your tongue." The guy that has his arm around me says.
"And I haven't heard you talk at all." The girl in pigtails gets on the other side of me. "Where are you from handsome?"
Handsome? Me? We all look pretty much the same in my eyes. Everyone has a round face, large eyes, and small nose. All monochromatic grey tone features.
It's not ugly by any means, but it's blurry. Everyone just blends together. I guess personality is what really stands out in this society because as much as they care about their looks, they don't want to be different.
They all want to morph into a standard. One that I have no clue why they settled on such a bland one.
If not for physical attributes such as clothing/jewelry, body types, or the way they style themselves everyone is... pretty boring to look at.
"We're from house Alexandra. We're new to the area because we recently got adopted." I answer the pig tailed girl.
She gasps. Everyone stops. Dior and I look at each other, frozen with fear. Did we say something wrong?
Did they figure us out? Oh gods... are we going to have to... kill these kids to keep our secret?