Even in broad daylight, shadows and obscurity can reign over a city. The dense shadows that a building projects behind itself, maybe upon others, slowly stretching across the land, nervously hunt for someone to smother. This looming, nearly opaque darkness, rules the vast majority of tight alleys and small corners.
In one of the said alleys, a figure was, crouched upon itself, hidden in a variety of clothing, masking nearly every trait of the person. Dull purple lips stretched past a small opening of the scarf that was wound over its head, merely grazing the metallic object it delicately grasped with pale hands.
Through the instrument, flowed diverse tunes and hums, reminding a violinist trying to accord their strings meticulously. Through the slightly parted lips blew a gentle breath, forming another string of notes which faded into the air almost as they came out. An observer would only think that such granted talent should be exposed, but as they would notice the entity which formed these cherished notes, they would soon change their mind, and go back to what they were doing previously.

The lone form of a rather savage looking girl slowly walked through the alley, not exactly paying attention to anything in particular. Consumed by thoughts about all sorts of things she more or less walked aimlessly around, eyes unfocused and completely unaware of her surroundings. That is, until the string of metallic tones suddenly reached her ears. She frowned irritated towards the source of her disturbance, her feet automatically leading her in the direction of the person who produced the sounds and seemingly was completely covered by clothes. Strange. Though, who was she to judge someone on appearance only after all? It wasn’t as if she looked that pleasing. As she listened further, Ilena had to admit that person did a good job. She herself wasn’t able to play any sort of instrument at all. She quietly strode further down the alley until she stood right before the musician, then the girl simply observed him as he made sounds, music. It had been a long time since she heard that, she might as well just more or less enjoy it right now while she could.

The music continued to play yet another verse, until another person, of which people would either choose one of the two extremities of their opinion. The man cloaked in cloths suddenly stopped. He tilted his head ever so slightly upwards, in direction of the female. It was impossible to know where his eyes were, that was, if he could see through the large scarf that created a curtain, covering the superior half of his face, only letting the dried lips appear.
"Hello," the person began, after judging that the girl shouldn't mean too much harm to him.
Readjusting himself against the brick wall he was crouched against to make himself more comfortable, he quickly scanned the girl, not with his eyes, but with hearing and smell. He brought the harmonica back to these parched openings, continuing a string of notes, but lowly, giving a chance for the girl to answer in any way possible.

As a muffled greeting made its way towards her, her eyes focused on what she suspected was this guy’s head wrapped up in a huge scarf. She couldn’t possibly see what he had hidden there, if there was anything to hide at all; it could be that he simply didn’t like to show himself, which was something she completely understood. “Hi”, she simply answered, not without a small tinge of curiosity shining through her voice. Her gaze traveled to the harmonica again. What a strange instrument, even though she had seen it a lot of times already, to her it looked impossible to get any nice sounding tones out of it. “Where did you learn to play that well?” Ilena asked, leaning back against the stone wall on her side of the alley. Like her, he didn’t appear to have lots of money, however, she’d be the last person to say that looks didn’t deceive.

The cloaked person stopped playing once again, but kept a docile grip on the harmonica. He turned his head ever so slowly to the girl, lifting one unnoticeable eyebrow under the scarf that covered nearly all of his face. "To play?" he repeated, gently, turning his head to the instrument once again. "I just... Had this harmonica ever since I can remember. I just kept it with me..."
His voice faded away, reminding the time when he was 'born'. Left out in the streets, like an abandoned newborn. Also like an abandoned newborn, he first didn't know what to do. He sighed lightly, and turned his head to the girl. "What's your name? If you have one, that is," he asked with a demanding tone.

“Hm…”, she murmured. Kept the thing with himself his whole life, eh? “Of course you did”, to say her sarcasm was almost tangible through the air definitely was an understatement. His voice, as far as she could hear it through all the clothing, sounded like the one of a person about as old as she was. Ilena arched an eyebrow at his demanding tone while asking for something she obviously wouldn’t simply give every stranger. Now that particular tone was something Ilena didn’t like. You could say that the girl might overreact, though, if you knew her, you’d realize that the more rigid stance of her figure right now was nothing but merely defense. How was she supposed to know who this guy was? A sneer pulled the corner of her lips down; “And why would that concern you?” she more or less bit back at him. As if she didn’t have a name! As if she was some sort of… Dog. Less than one; seeing as even the filthiest of all dogs has a name. Her gaze flickered dangerously. She was of the type that absolutely did not tolerate insults. How dare he even consider her to be a nobody; to be nothing more than... Nothing.

The man gently lay the harmonica on his lap, as he turned his head to the girl. He only knew this sort of defense too much, especially that he had been through that phase himself. He wasn't offended, in fact, he was liking this sort of reaction coming from a girl like her. He guessed that looks could deceive. The person lifted his hands to the scarf covering his face, and pulled the superior part upwards whilst he tugged at the lower part to cover his mouth. In barely a second, without any time to be able to notice anything whatsoever on his face, the scarf was set, only letting an opening for one eye to peer through, of a dull blue color. "I understand your wariness," he answered calmly, "I guess that's how you got up until here. It only concerns me by the fact that I like to know to whom I am addressing myself to." Zechs had heard the tone of offense that had escaped from the girl's mouth, and from that he was able to suppose and deduct a number of things of which a normal man in despair wouldn't even notice.

She sighed, striking back a few wandering strands of hair as she watched the one blue eye that now had become visible. Strange thing, that scarf. Though if it was what he wanted to wear, she certainly wouldn’t stop him. “Yeah”, the girl replied frowningly, relaxing a bit against the wall, “don’t take it too personal, it’s just a reflex I guess…” Her gaze slightly drifted away as she mentally debated about whether or not she should tell her name. What could the consequences be? Not much, a little voice in the back of her head told her. After all, he seemed rather friendly, obviously wasn’t one of those gangster guys. However, she had learned that about everything was possible. Ilena unconsciously licked her dry lips, pushing the thoughts of criminals away. Paranoia surely was not something she was waiting for. A small breath was deliberately taken. Her jaw locked with determination as she stepped forwards, about a meter closer to the person at the other side. “I’m Ilena”, she hesitantly said. “Now, who are you?” The girl truly hoped that she wasn’t causing too much trouble for herself right now; she really didn’t want to find a new place to live. Not that she liked the old building that much, but it was difficult to get an empty place that was more or less inhabitable. And besides finding a new ‘home’, it was tiring to always run from people. Sometimes it felt as if she didn’t do anything but running.

The cloaked man didn't seem at all surprised by the sudden change of mind, like if he had expected the girl to do so at exactly that moment. Under the scarf, a small comforting smile was normally addressed to the girl, even though she couldn't see it. "Name's Zechs," the man answered calmly. Taking the girl's current situation, Zechs had nothing to fear about. He thought about that name, Ilena, but he couldn't determine whether he had heard it or not before. He couldn't remember the face of the girl, nor her way of speaking. It always made things hard for him, but Zechs didn't take the risk of showing more of his face. If this was a trap, he would already be in big trouble. He pulled the harmonica back to his face, as he lowered the scarf to only reveal his mouth with the other hand. Purple lips pressed against the metallic surface, blowing gently through it, emitting a small sound before he started, by inspiration and improvisation, creating a string of music, as if it were flowing with the calm breeze that lurked defiantly in the alley.

“Zechs..”, she murmured pensively to herself, letting it roll silently off her lips. What a strange name this guy had, she wondered curiously. It oddly enough sounded familiar, although the girl was absolutely positive that she had never heard such a peculiar name before. Almost everything about this guy seemed to be strange, she frowningly noticed. Ah, well… It could only make things more interesting in her opinion. Ilena backed off to the other side again, leaning tiredly against the wall that caused her to be infiltrated by the stones’ surprising coldness. She closed her eyes and rested her head against that wall, trying to ignore the cold, as she intently listened to this unexpectedly beautiful music he was producing. It had been a long time since she heard any music. The girl had forgotten how enticing it could be, how relaxing and soothing the effect was that it was able to so generously offer to people. An almost undetectable smile slowly appeared on her face, brightening her features nonetheless.