It took a moment for him to process the words that left her mouth.
"What do you mean he runs the circus?"
"He's the ringmaster," She responded near instantly, "We all work for him."
Still assuming Nephyr was confused, she continued; "It's not that surprising he never told you. Elior never goes out of his way to explain himself."
"Okay... so, you all work at the circus, then?"
"Yes."
It was as if all the pieces started clicking into his head. The man's extravagant and noble appearance to the odd collection of people he's gathered to perform for him.
"Well," He muttered, a slight glint appearing on his face, "I must be quite special for him to take me in, then."
Patches gave a brief moment of silence, all before shattering his image in all but a moment. "He didn't choose you 'cause he thought you were special, Nephyr. He chose you 'cause he knew you were weak."
As the words left her mouth, Nephyr could feel its weight like a punch to the gut. His grin faltered, and movements grew slower as he now tailed behind her.
He wanted to respond, though all his words got caught in his throat. A retort slowly began to form on his lips, but before he could mutter it, a sudden sound — that of a cry and crash — sounded out from an alley just to his right.
Instinctively did he turn towards the noise, trying to get a glimpse at what was occurring in the darkness.
Voices. Angry shouts mixed with the unsettling sound of something colliding with flesh. Without much thought, he slipped his way through the narrow space, leaving Patches behind.
"Nephyr-!" She called out, but it was already too late.
There, halfway down the passage, a group of boys surrounded two lone figures groveling on the ground. They were clearly young — notably younger than Nephyr, and looked as though they were barely the age of fifteen. And yet, when glancing at their sneering expressions and clenched fists, it made them seem far more dangerous than their size would suggest.
Nephyr's eyes paced down to the figures on the floor. While the darkness masked most physical details, it was clear one wasn't human. It was an animal.
"Hey!" Nephyr shouted, his voice much louder and angrier than even he expected. He felt his heart beat quicken and chest tighten as the group all turned to face him.
For a brief second, it was almost as if time itself was paused. Not a single soul dared to move — One of the boys fists hung in the air mid-swing, and the groveling of the two victims came to a halt. All eyes shifted onto Nephyr.
One of the boys, the one whose arm was still frozen in the air, narrowed his eyes at Nephyr. He appeared tall and wiry, though most of his distinct features were masked by his unkempt, long dark hair that twirled into numerous braids. Still, however, it was easy to tell he was young.
As he spoke, his mouth twisted into a slight sneer. "Who are you?" he spat.
Instead of showing his fear, Nephyr straightened himself. His fists clenched shut as the sweat dripped down his skull, "It doesn't matter who I am. Just leave them alone."
He let out a scoff, followed by a low chuckle from one boy in the back. The braided one gave a brief glance to his friends before staring back at Nephyr, slowly stepping towards him. "Is that meant to be a joke? No."
It was then did a hand place itself on Nephyr's shoulder, making him jump. Patches stood directly behind him, a calm expression labeling her face. "Come on, Nephyr. We still have errands to run."
Nephyr didn't respond to her, instead throwing daggers with his eyes at the boy, and analyzing the other two standing behind him. "Leave them alone. I mean it."
What happened next was so abrupt, his eyes could barely keep track of it.
The boy swung his fist forward — so terrifyingly fast it only resembled a blur. Much to even his own surprise, Nephyr jolted his head just out of its way, the inertia moving the braided boy further back, nearly tripping over the ground below him.
Not wasting a second, Nephyr raised his elbow, beating it down against his back, causing him to grunt and collapse to the floor.
Feeling a tug at his hair, Nephyr's head launched backward, body stumbling downwards only to be followed by a series of kicks to his chest. His eyes glared upwards, staring at the two nameless thugs as they directed their rage towards him.
Just as he began to lose hope of fighting back, he noticed Patches just out from the corner of his eye.
She slowly walked towards the side of the wall, lifting a large metal pipe leaning against a series of boxes. Her gaze shifted towards the group beating Nephyr, and, without any form of warning, pounced forward and slammed the tail-end of it against one's skull.
His body flung to the side, crashing against the wall of the building, and was seemingly knocked unconscious. Before the other could even comprehend the situation, a single, solid bash straight to the back of his neck pounded into him.
"Leave here, now!" Patches commanded, voice still soft, yet notably filled with a slight scent of rage.
They didn't hesitate to submit, the two running to their sleeping friend and hastily carrying out of the alley. "We'll get you for this-!" The braided boy shouted, disappearing further down the passage.
The girl cautiously marched forwards, peering into the darkness to make sure they wouldn't return.
Slowly rising from the ground, Nephyr gave a slight mumble and addressed her. "I'm fine, thanks..."
She shot an unamused glare towards him, "It's your own fault you got beat. Suck it up."
As if paying her words no mind, he ran over to the two figures, both still on the ground in pain.
Just as he was about to check up on them, he stopped. His eyes widened.
He recognized one of the figures.