The moon hung low over Pittsburgh, the day already having taken a sliver off its rounded form. Orion strode through the park, the shadows cast by the moon’s gleaming light lengthening and wrapping around him like a cloak. Literally, as he felt their soft, cool embrace settle over him. It wasn’t quite a comfort, as he had precious few of those these days, but its familiarity was close enough.
Almost instantly his footfalls grew silent, and Orion knew that any eyes that looked his way would find nothing to hold their interest, sliding off of him to search for something else worth their focus. Well, more than usual. Orion grimaced at the thought, memories of blank stares looking through him as he huddled on a sidewalk, threadbare blanket and worn clothes the only protection from the harsh winds of winter.
Their indifference is useful. It allows us to stay hidden. A voice like warmed honey curled around his ear.
“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Orion muttered, trusting on the shadows to muffle his words. Not that it truly mattered how loud he spoke. Whether it was a whisper or a scream, his Shadow would hear, and be able to respond. It always responded.
He reached the edge of the park, turning down a well-lit street, the lights flanking it like watchmen, casting their harsh gaze along the sidewalks. Orion stuck to the edges, to the places where shadows coiled and waited, not quite daring to pierce the glowing veil. As he did so, his eyes scanned the rows of houses, the sleeping sentinels of suburbia, searching for something.
You waste time by walking. Why not just use the shadows to travel quicker?
“You know why. It’d make the whole thing seem a lot more suspicious.”
The shadows protect you, keeping you from sight.
“Yeah, but they only do so much. Last thing I need is for someone to see me popping in and out every few yards or so and bring some kind of hero down on me.”
The Shadow didn’t respond, seemingly content with this line of reasoning. It was only a half-truth, to be honest. Orion didn’t want to tell it that at least by walking he could pretend that he was just out for a stroll, that he wasn’t a criminal looking for crimes to commit. It would have some rationalization of how ‘this was just survival, and surviving isn’t a crime’, but he didn’t want to hear that right now.
Finally, Orion found what he was looking for; a quaint little two-story house, porch light off, driveway empty. Stepping casually across the road (technically jaywalking, but what was one more crime when your practically your whole existence was one?), Orion took a closer look at the house. Its neighbors were dark, but they had lit porches and nearby vehicles, and that meant people. Orion didn’t do well around people at the best of times, let alone with what he was about to do.
Skirting around the fence, he stopped at the first window he found that was at least somewhat hidden from the street. He extended a hand to the side, as if waiting for something. Not long after, Orion felt something creep over his shoulder and press something into his palm. He pulled his hand back, taking his set of lockpicking tools and getting to work on the window.
Someone approaches. The Shadow whispered, voice relaxed and unhurried; it could have easily been commenting on the weather.
“Is it the owner?” Orion asked quietly, kept his attention on the window. Gods why were these always so hard to open?
No, but-
“Cop? Hero?”
She’s too young, so probably not.
“And the shadows are keeping me hidden?”
Always.
“Then shut up and let me focus.” Orion grumbled indistinctly as the Shadow withdrew, ceasing its comments. It was fine, he hadn’t hurt its feelings. He wasn’t even sure it had feelings, and if it did it certainly wasn’t keen on making them known. Now if he could just open this damn lock without breaking or dropping his tools...
Almost instantly his footfalls grew silent, and Orion knew that any eyes that looked his way would find nothing to hold their interest, sliding off of him to search for something else worth their focus. Well, more than usual. Orion grimaced at the thought, memories of blank stares looking through him as he huddled on a sidewalk, threadbare blanket and worn clothes the only protection from the harsh winds of winter.
Their indifference is useful. It allows us to stay hidden. A voice like warmed honey curled around his ear.
“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Orion muttered, trusting on the shadows to muffle his words. Not that it truly mattered how loud he spoke. Whether it was a whisper or a scream, his Shadow would hear, and be able to respond. It always responded.
He reached the edge of the park, turning down a well-lit street, the lights flanking it like watchmen, casting their harsh gaze along the sidewalks. Orion stuck to the edges, to the places where shadows coiled and waited, not quite daring to pierce the glowing veil. As he did so, his eyes scanned the rows of houses, the sleeping sentinels of suburbia, searching for something.
You waste time by walking. Why not just use the shadows to travel quicker?
“You know why. It’d make the whole thing seem a lot more suspicious.”
The shadows protect you, keeping you from sight.
“Yeah, but they only do so much. Last thing I need is for someone to see me popping in and out every few yards or so and bring some kind of hero down on me.”
The Shadow didn’t respond, seemingly content with this line of reasoning. It was only a half-truth, to be honest. Orion didn’t want to tell it that at least by walking he could pretend that he was just out for a stroll, that he wasn’t a criminal looking for crimes to commit. It would have some rationalization of how ‘this was just survival, and surviving isn’t a crime’, but he didn’t want to hear that right now.
Finally, Orion found what he was looking for; a quaint little two-story house, porch light off, driveway empty. Stepping casually across the road (technically jaywalking, but what was one more crime when your practically your whole existence was one?), Orion took a closer look at the house. Its neighbors were dark, but they had lit porches and nearby vehicles, and that meant people. Orion didn’t do well around people at the best of times, let alone with what he was about to do.
Skirting around the fence, he stopped at the first window he found that was at least somewhat hidden from the street. He extended a hand to the side, as if waiting for something. Not long after, Orion felt something creep over his shoulder and press something into his palm. He pulled his hand back, taking his set of lockpicking tools and getting to work on the window.
Someone approaches. The Shadow whispered, voice relaxed and unhurried; it could have easily been commenting on the weather.
“Is it the owner?” Orion asked quietly, kept his attention on the window. Gods why were these always so hard to open?
No, but-
“Cop? Hero?”
She’s too young, so probably not.
“And the shadows are keeping me hidden?”
Always.
“Then shut up and let me focus.” Orion grumbled indistinctly as the Shadow withdrew, ceasing its comments. It was fine, he hadn’t hurt its feelings. He wasn’t even sure it had feelings, and if it did it certainly wasn’t keen on making them known. Now if he could just open this damn lock without breaking or dropping his tools...