The two were rarely called by their individual names, it was always Garrett and Erin or Erin and Garrett. They weren't siblings by blood though, some did speculate the claim, they acted, and could very well pass as brother and sister regardless.
If Artemus was perfectly honest with himself, he couldn't exactly remember who Garrett was before he met Erin, he could remember how the young man acted, thought and spoke, his mannerisms and tendencies.
But that wasn't Garrett… Or at least not the Garrett Artemus grew to know and love, no, it was almost as if Garrett hadn't really existed before meeting Erin…
Artemus could of course however, remember how he met the young gutter rats, that and their first few years within the Haven. Those memories were far too precious to be tarnished by time.
Artemus was after all, the one to pick the thieves up from the streets.
Garrett had attempted to pick his pockets while he was on his way back to the Haven from some information rendezvous regarding stray rumors of revolution.
Revolutions were common enough in the city, though successful revolutions were rare. Back then it seemed as though there was a new faction within the city rallying support from the shadows, at the moment their goals seemed ambivalent enough, but Artemus knew how quickly motivations could change.
Absolute power, corrupts absolutely after all.
He was a young Keeper then, hardly two summers out of his schooling days, still new to his responsibilities but old enough to find himself disappointed by the simplicity of his task.
Surely hiking across the city was something anyone, specifically anyone other than Artemus could do? Someone younger perhaps, fresher from the folds of schooling?
Artemus' musings were cut short by the gentlest of tugs to his belt, and had he been a normal man, he would have merely dismissed it as his cloak catching the edge and carry on.
But Artemus was a Keeper.
The young street rat almost got away with his coin pouch as well as a ring of rather important keys, and had the young boy not tugged a touch too hard on the leather looplet securing said ring of keys to his belt, Artemus would have never seen his coin or keys again.
And dear stars that would have been the end of him.
At the time of their first meeting, Garrett was but a mere child, a lanky thing with filthy pale skin, hands and feet bare, caked with street sludge to the point where they appeared nearly black.
Years of grime coated his raven feather hair. His clothes were tattered rags, weighed down by dirt. He reeked of the gutters, rank and vile, it had been a long, long time since the city had seen rain, clean rain and the only water available to vagrants was just as diseased as the rest of the streets…
Yet despite his starving disposition, the boy, Garrett, was a fighter, his eyes, an incredibly deep russet, burned with an undying fire, wild and ruthless, that Artemus could only associate with that of feral creatures, desperate for survival.
And Artemus saw this the instant he snagged the young rat's wrist.
The young boy struggled viciously, swatting, punching and clawing at the hand holding his wrist, but he never used his voice, never cried out or shouted for help, he cried yes, silent tears as his expression twisted into a gut retching desperate, terrified grimace.
The young boy froze, ceasing his struggles only when Artemus began to speak, slow and steady, gently, as he would to any other younger apprentice within the Haven.
Promises of food and shelter set the boy into a panic, a wild, feral, blind panic, followed by teeth sinking into the exposed flesh of Artemus' wrist.
Artemus still had the scars where Garrett's teeth broke skin.
The sudden pain was enough to force Artemus to release his hold on the street rat. The Keeper clutched his wrist to his chest as he stifled the sudden need to snap in surprise, rather, he quickly tended to the minor wound, it wasn't the first time he had been bitten and he doubted it would be the last.
Once Artemus recovered from the attack, he moved to go after the boy…
However, the street rat was nowhere in sight.
He had vanished…
It had taken the Keeper, at most, three seconds to tend to the bite, to say that Artemus was impressed would be an understatement.
Artemus returned to the Haven that night with little fanfare, he had completed his task without any other interruptions or incidents. His success was acknowledged and he rewarded…
But as he lay in bed… The young Keeper found himself… Restless.
Artemus was a young Keeper then, not quite fresh out of his schooling, but nowhere near senior Keeper status.
He knew the histories of the city, of the Haven…
He knew he was not the first Artemus to roam the halls of the Haven.
And somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew, knew, with his very soul… That he was not the First of his name to look into those burning russet eyes...
It took Artemus three moon cycles to find the boy again...
Though their second meeting held far less of a struggle.