Odile grew up in a dim, one-bedroom flat in the Blue-collar District. Her father was out of the picture, and her mother was an undocumented worker stuck cleaning offices at night for cash under the table.

When Odile was 13, the gang came. It started with one guy, a smooth talker who said he just needed to crash for a few nights. Then more came. Then came the drugs. The flat slowly stopped being theirs. The gang used their home as a stash spot, hiding substances in kitchen cupboards and under the floorboards. It was cuckooing – a practice where people take over a vulnerable person's home and use the property for exploitation. Her mother was terrified. If she spoke up, she could get deported or worse. So they endured it.

When the police eventually raided the building, they didn’t find much, but they found enough to get her mother arrested and Odile thrown into foster care. She couldn't escape the rumors about what kind of family she comes from. No one ever believed her when she told people that the drugs weren't theirs. So she bounced through the system, always running away from whichever current home was hers at the moment. By 14, with the help of other street kids, she tracked down the gang who’d taken over her home. But she didn’t come back for revenge, as her childish mind initially planned. No, she came to understand the game that had swallowed her life.

She started running for them. At first, it was to survive and to find a place where to belong. Then, it became control. If the world saw her as a criminal, she might as well become one on her own terms. Odile was a hard-worker, sharp and calculating. She rose fast as a foot-soldier, quickly gaining the gang's trust. After everything, she stayed with them for years to come. The irony wasn't lost on her, working for the same gang that destroyed her family. But becoming a part of the money-making machine was the only way forward she saw. For now. She keeps a journal hidden in a safe, full of names, dates, and regrets. Maybe one day she’ll burn it. Or maybe one day she’ll use it to bring everything down.

When she was about 12, she befriended another street kid that was always out alone. Her name was Fin. Together, they were a unit. Running the streets at night, splitting cheap sandwiches, and exploring the city tunnels and abandoned buildings. They looked out for each other in a world that forgot kids like them existed. But unlike Odile, Fin still had parents present in her life, be it barely, but still in the picture. One night, Fin's mother caught them sneaking back into the house and came to a conclusion before they could defend themselves. She blamed Odile for Fin's slipping grades, her defiance, and her constant disappearing acts. To her, Odile was a corrupting force. So Fin was forbidden from seeing her again. For a while, they tried to keep in touch in secret, but space grew between them.

Years passed, but Odile never stopped wondering what happened to Fin. Then, one rainy evening, while dropping off a package at a shelter for a client, Odile spotted a familiar silhouette hunched on a bench near the back. She looked thinner. Older. Worn down by nights spent with no roof and days spent with no direction. Her hair dyed (?) and uneven, like she'd done it herself. Her eyes were different too, though she couldn't recall why. But despite that, it was still her. Unmistakably so. They sat together on the concrete steps, saying nothing at first. When Fin finally spoke, her voice was quieter than Odile remembered. By the age of 18, she lost both her parents — her father lost to the wind and her mother passed due to a sickness. No one came looking for her after she ran. The world just moved on. Odile offered her a place. Not just a bed or food, but a way back in. Into the gang, into her circle, into something that could give Fin structure and safety. But Fin shook her head. She didn’t want that life. Odile didn’t push. But after that night, she kept coming back. Checking in. Bringing coffee. Sitting with Fin in silence, talking about nothing and everything. The bond that time and pain had frayed began to mend, not into what it had been, but into something new. With no parents, no rules, and nothing left to lose, they became each other’s second halves again.

Sometimes, when Fin looked at her, Odile felt something... electric. A tension. Not unwelcome. Just different. She was more aware of Fin now. Her presence, the way she carried herself. And though Odile couldn’t quite name what had shifted about her, she didn’t mind. She welcomed it. Maybe even craved it. They weren’t just friends anymore. Not in the way they used to be. They were something else. Something deeper. In a world that never gave them anything, they chose each other. Throughout their close relationship, Fin was keeping her distance, always retreating when Odile was chasing after a bit of touch, scared that revelation about her powers would ruin everything they've built between each other. But eventually, it was unbearable. The hiding, the loneliness, the possibility that Odile might accept her as she is after all. So one night, Fin unzipped her jacket and let the wings unfurl. Not halfway. Not subtly. Fully. And Odile stared, wide-eyed, mouth parted. Not in horror, but in quiet awe. She stepped forward, slowly, as if moving through a dream. Her fingers reached out, brushing the base of one wing like she’d known it all along. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered. And for a moment, Fin felt seen, wholly, completely. They talked. About the wings. The transformation. Fin told her everything. It was the best night in Fin's life. Seeing she wasn't wrong about Odile after all. That she can trust her wholeheartedly with this secret.

However, just hours after the revelation, she found that Odile doesn't remember a thing. At first, she thought it was a bad joke. Fin searched her face for some flicker of recognition, a memory, anything. But it was gone. Sealed behind the Mist. And the exact same pattern would repeat, no matter how many times Fin decided to reveal her wings. Sometimes it took Odile longer to forget; sometimes it was mere minutes. Whenever there was hope that things might've improved, it was taken away. Frustration clawed at Fin's chest. Not at Odile, never at Odile, but at whatever was making her forget. Grief filled the back of her mind whenever they were together. Still, Fin tried to treasure the moments they shared, even if it meant she had to lose her again tomorrow.

When Fin and Odile were 19, they came. The strange people in suits who spoke of wealth, power, and a life far removed from the grimy streets. They promised something more, something that glittered with the allure of a world they had never known. All in exchange for a young talent they saw in Fin. They offered her a position with a wealthy conglomerate, the Fowler Holdings... a chance to step into high society. Fin made one demand: that Odile, the one person she had ever truly trusted, could come with her. For Odile, it would give her the opportunity to step out of the shameful life she had grown tired of with the gang. One she hadn't left for the fear of getting herself and Fin in danger. So they agreed, and without fully understanding the consequences, Fin signed the contract that would seal her fate. Odile had stood by her side as she did, unaware of the cost buried in the legal language that Fin overlooked.

For a while, it seemed like they'd won the lottery. Fin was the prized seer, the miracle the company paraded around, using her predictive talents for market and trade insights. Fin didn't share much about how exactly she did it. Could it be that after all this time, Odile hadn't noticed her friend's hidden wit and talent? However she achieved her success, in exchange, the food was plentiful, the clothes clean, and the dangers of the streets seemed a distant memory. Both Fin and Odile got in the habit of indulging in exclusive parties, mingling with the rich and famous. They danced through the nights, enjoying their time in the spotlight while it lasted.

But no one saw her. She was just the assistant, the shadow trailing behind Fin’s light. No one asked for her opinion. No one remembered her name. Every success was credited to Fin’s "gift". Every powerful figure only had eyes for "the girl with visions". Odile had worked tirelessly to keep Fin in the good graces of the elite, carefully curating conversations, diffusing tension, spinning charm where Fin didn’t bother... but none of it mattered. Fin was seen. Odile was useful. And slowly, resentment began to curdle inside her. A deep, gnawing jealousy she hated herself for feeling. She told herself it was petty, cruel even, but it was there. And then one day, she let it slip. A single offhand remark, laced with frustration, about Fin’s accuracy declining. About how she’d been acting strange, going behind her back and being evasive. And that was all it took. The higher-ups pounced. That crumb of suspicion was all they needed to chain Fin tighter. The cage shrank. And Odile said nothing. She told herself she didn’t mean it. That it wasn’t really her fault. But the truth was worse. She didn’t stop it because she didn’t want to lose the life she had clawed into. The fancy clothes. The dinners. The ease. After the remark, she tried to ask the management where Fin is. Tried desperately to figure out where she went. But no one told her anything. She simply vanished. And the guilt never let her go.

Now, years later, Odile lives in a penthouse with a view she can’t stand to look at. Clothed in silk and shame. She plays the part of the sophisticated socialite, but she spends her nights replaying what she did. And what she didn’t do. Her entire life is filled with regrets. She fantasizes about getting enough courage to leave. About opening her journal, bringing as many people down with her as she can. About making amends. She wonders where Fin is now. If the streets took her back, if she’s still even alive, if she still thinks about her at all. Odile doesn’t believe she deserves forgiveness. She certainly doesn’t expect it. But she can’t stop wanting it. She hates the world she once fought to belong to. Hates herself even more for choosing it over the only person who ever truly mattered. Fin had wings. And Odile clipped them. And now, all she’s left with is the silence.

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