Is it strange to say the shadows feel warm? Thinking about it, they should feel cold, shouldn't they? Shade from the sun, the darker corners of a room. You think of shadows, you think of the cold, of the missing. But when the darkness coils around his neck, Iris is reminded of a blanket gently folded around one's shoulders — something soothing and reassuring.

It makes saying what he does next a little easier to bear.

"...Not everyone really saw them as a good thing. These powers."

His fingers itch to reach up and pull the shadows around him a little tighter, but he knows he'd only feel air if he tried.

"Anyone who had them were pretty much hunted down, so we basically had to go into hiding."

He hadn't had to think about the Tower in some time, and a part of him is surprised it's a lot easier to do so than he thought. Is it the distance? Or the time?

"I came from a place that was allowed to exist in the open, on the condition we all lived our lives as normal as possible. No powers, and we were left alone."

He trails off briefly, his lips turning a little rueful.

"I was really bad at listening."