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[Allassanachassanya]

81st Summer 518 AV
"Speech"
"Others"

The market was not as busy as Klave had hoped. The man was on edge due to the difficult beast he had acquired on his travels, but he had transported Ssanya for miles and he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to make a profit on her. He prodded her in the small of the back, and hissed with grim and terrified intensity into her ear. "If you make a godsdamned sound I will kill you immediately, do you understand?" Ssanya stood stock-still, and nodded once. Klave, feeling mildly assured, put on his best salesman's voice, and the market began.

Ravok would have been beautiful, but Ssanya's eye was black with bruises and she was too fraught with barely controlled anger and fear to admire the scenery. She stood with a bowed head and gazed down at her feet, eyes stinging with hot and bitter tears, whilst prospective buyers wandered past and dismissed her over and over again, as Klave tried to work his magic to little success.

It still hadn't sunk in. The past days had been a whirlwind, passing by, leaving no stone unturned. She had slipped and made one foolish mistake, and had woken to found herself chained and in the bowels of a ship, a stranger's face peering down at her. Oh, how she'd fought and struggled, only to find herself surrounded by Laviku's iron-hard ocean, no chance of freedom for miles around. The journey had passed with sickening ease as it took her away from Riverfall and away from her love, to a place she knew virtually nothing about.

She had raged for a long time, and thought to escape at every possible moment. Each moment had come and gone, and Ssanya had grown increasingly sickened at her own weakness and her own terror. There was a time she had wished to subdue her Dhani side so as not to frighten her lover's heart, but now she berated herself for her own foolishness. She was a predator, and she was in chains. Her own heart was damaged, terribly worried and sore for the woman she had been snatched from, and even more fiercely beaten by her own anger and regret.

A man walked past. Ssanya continued to stare at the ground, not knowing what would come next. Perhaps, if she avoiding being sold, Klave would free her and she could go on her way. It was a ridiculous dream, and it wouldn't come true. The man doubled back. Ssanya inadvertently raised her head to gaze at him, and then lowered her head once more before reaching his eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she clenched her fists at her side, but said nothing at all as Klave brightened and began his spiel.

"What is it you're looking for, good sir? Sanya here is a fine worker, although she's only small, she packs a punch. Feel free to inspect her. My goods are nothing short of perfection..-" He stopped short upon seeing the stranger's eyes flicker to the bruised eye, and hurried filled in the silence. "That is, I make sure my slaves are up to satisfaction, and Ssanya will obey. She makes a good slave, I promise you."

Slave. Ssanya repeated the word to herself, and felt the death-knell falling on her pride. Shame and anger flooded her tan cheeks with red, but she stayed staring at the ground as the stranger assessed her. Klave, well aware that this would be the clincher, rushed forwards and wiped his palms on his trousers nervously. He and his slave both knew what she was, and why she could never speak.

"She cannot speak, good sir. I've tried, but it doesn't happen. Something wrong with her tongue at birth, I think. But believe you me, a silent slave is a blessing compared to some of the loud-mouthed bitches I've seen before." He was growing cocky and confident now. The man seemed tougher than tough, but he also was the first person to speak and inspect his slave, and so Klave laughed and slapped her hard on the shoulder, making her stumble.

The urge to kill him swept over her, strong enough that she had to grind her teeth together hard to submerge the thought. She silently righted herself, and looked up at the man who was considering buying her, to study his face for a brief fraction of time as he started his bargaining over owning her.

"Meaning Through Death"

.

[Belugnir]

It had been only several days since he'd settled in the city after making his voyage from the outpost and delivering whatever it was Samara needed carried over. Thankfully, he'd managed to drain actual coin from the rotten buggers to whom the goods were delivered. And with said coin in hand, Einar had a mind to get a handful of supplies and some repairs that the vendors up at the outpost couldn't rightly cover... and so here he was, browsing the streets of Ravok not ten chimes after settling in an inn for the brief while he'll spend in the city proper.

Yet as he set about the market, for once not donning his armor, though not without poleaxe in hand, he came upon an oddly familiar scene... Only the last time he'd witnessed one such, it was from a wholly different perspective... and well, he wasn't a foot and a half shorter and didn't have a pair o' tits hanging from his chest.

Half a year ago, he'd have walked past without a thought paid to the scene... yet since winter he'd had dealings with slaves, runaway slaves... and a good deal of time to look his distorted reflections in the water whenever he'd wash his face beside the stream at the outpost... And as he stood, gawking with a brooding frown forming upon his brow, the slaver practically reeled him in to come and have a closer look, likely assuming him the best chance to sell this girl off at all... especially considering the state she seemed to be in.

So supposedly, she couldn't speak, was visibly abused, and the one hateful glare she vainly gave to her captor, on top of feeling oddly familiar in an alien manner, told Einar that she was likely not used to the idea of being a slave... and when the matter of price was presented, as the desperate slaver seemed in a rush to sell the girl, Einar felt outright insulted by the prospect of a drowning man making attempt at selling him a broken oar.

He gave the slaver one long, cold stare, and the hand about his poleaxe tightened its grip, to the point where skin could be heard creaking over wood.

''Let me see if I got your idea straight. Fuck knows when's the last time this lass' been properly fed. Ye beat her into submission to the point where her neck unhinged so that she's only be able to look your sorry arse in the eye for a spittin' second. And ye probably kicked the words outta her jaw 'cause whenever she retorted to your horseshite, it made you feel like the stupid prick you are. And dear me, I've seen and met some stupid pricks, but your's is a special case if ye think I, or any sane a man is going to take her off your hands for the coin you ask for.'', he made a point attempting to punctuate every insult he sent the slaver's way, before ensuing a long pause. ''And I'll be petched in the arse if you didn't outright kidnap her from some bleedin' rundown brothel, so hell knows what horrid diseases she's carrying.''

''Two hundred. I'll not be fuckin' robbed buying a mute midget who's half a foot in the grave.'', at this point part of him wanted to buy the girl out of sheer spite, or that was what he'd tell himself once he recalls the fact that he's half a season's earnings short of coin by the evening.

[Allassanachassanya]

Title, etc.
"Speech"
"Others"

Klave veritably spluttered at Einar's speech. Though his teeth were gritted, and his tongue bitten from outrage, he managed to scramble together some form of complaint over the bearded man's retorts. Full of theatrics, Klave pushed a neatly presented hand to his brocaded chest, and stared bug-eyed with a curious mix of expressions: salesmanship and disgust fighting for control over his features. Salesmanship won out. He took a deep breath to gather himself, and forced a smile. "Well, well! Here's me, with quality goods all the way from Riverfall I'll have you know - and that's a city of great culture - being insulted! But it's no matter, for I see you're serious, and I like that in a person. I can see you're a good man. I too am a good man. Aye, I know you think otherwise, judging from how you assume I treat my slaves..."

He was aware of rambling, and Ssanya could almost feel the disdain pouring from both sides of the sale. She felt nothing but a kind of simmering hate towards Klave and his greasy, shykey ways, but she felt almost nothing about her new buyer. Did she have any idea whether he would treat her well, or beat her worse that Klave could ever have managed? Did she care? What did it matter any more, when she was no longer free?

Perhaps not. Even so, powerless to do a thing about it, the sale continued. Klave now lowered his hands and clasped them in what he thought was a genuine expression in front of his body. He continued his chatter. There was little else he could do, really. In Einar he sensed a quick sale, with a little negotiation, and a little wriggling. After all, Ssanya was more a liability than anything else. It would do him a favour to sell her quickly, and cheaply, although... "I treat my slaves well, for the most part. I had a little trouble with Sanya here, but nothing a little positive reinforcement couldn't solve. Yes, we had a little disagreement, but now she understands and accepts her position. Don't you, slave?"

With her jaw clenched in an iron grip, she nodded twice. Jubilantly, Klave peered at her and patted her arm. She couldn't help but think that he thought of her as some kind of dog, a good dog for obeying her master, and by all the gods and goddesses of Mizahar she wanted to turn on him and savage him. Yet it would do no good. She looked around discreetly, enough to see the guards and heavily armed men and women standing around, ready at a moment's notice to quell any violence. No savaging today. Instead, she tilted her head slightly to try to look at her buyer without being noticed. She saw dark, rust-like hair on a scruffy face. His expression was unreadable to her. Instead, she looked into his eyes, hoping for nothing. Her own eyes were bleak and to her shame, they sparkled with tears before she dashed them furiously on the back of her hand, wiping dirt across her own face. It was better than cowardice and tears, even though they were a product of anger and frustration, not sadness.

"Anyway good sir, 350 mizas is my final offer, and I'll state again the reasoning why. This slave is a wiry worker, and she is small but strong. She can't speak, but who needs a slave who can talk back at'cha, am I right? No, this slave is entirely without ridiculous conversation. And if she needs to ask a question, she can write well enough. Just provide her with a stick and some dirt, and you're sorted!" Klave shrugged as if to say, and isn't that enough? Inside, he hoped to Hai and back that Einar wouldn't be put off by the reasonably high asking price. It was clear to anyone that she wasn't the most beautiful, although Klave had made an attempt at brushing her long brown hair so that it was free of snaggles and looked smooth and sleek. Her hands weren't terribly clean, and now neither was her face, but her clothes were without tears and she would undoubtedly brush up well enough.

"Meaning Through Death"

.

[Belugnir]

To the slaver's first set of rambling Einar gave little more than a dull, disinterested gaze, eyes half closed. The bugger pointed out shite about insults, and yet insisted on insulting Einar's common sense with his hogwash. Ein wasn't the most perceptive fellow, but he grew up in Sunberth for crying out loud, and he'd taught himself a particular sort of hatred toward slimy, cheap slavers like this crook.

''I kill folk for coin. And you sell 'em like livestock. We are far from good cockin' men. And I'll give insults where insults are due. And you'll hear your fair share of 'em if you insist on tryn' a' make a fool of me.''

...A rambler this prick was indeed, and his ramblings of price and the way he'd treated the girl had Ein cook a whole minute of grumbling rambling of his own. The girl would have to struggle to gauge anything but apparent indifference toward her from the man, though for the man who sought to sell her there was obvious, passionate disdain and hate.

''See, mate. I happen to be a wiry worker myself. Something I can tell you are cockin' not. And one thing you'll find out today is that us wiry workers don't exactly appreciate horse's farts like you trying to rob us of the coin we traded for with fuckin' blood. And you must have choked down a fill of dog's prick so copious it got a poke into your brains and shambled them something fierce if you think I'll be paying you that sort of coin for this broken pipsqueak.'', Einar batted his poleaxe's counterbalance onto the ground to punctuate his words... annoyed to the point where he couldn't tell if he wanted to knee this bastard 'tween the stones or simply stomp away shouting to folk that might hear it how this bastard was a fraud and an outright thief. He was halfway through turning around to leave before his gaze settled on the girl again. There would be a pause... and then...

''I'll give ye three hundred.'', he sounded almost as though tiredly giving in... before his left hand settled onto the crude dagger in his belt... a wicked memento he'd received from another, far nastier slaver he knew, and his tone took a grim shift. ''And if ye ask for a cockin' copper more than that, I'll be taking a finger off ye. One for each copper.'', it was one of those times where he'd come to disregard the potential consequences of his intent. Guards be damned to hell, what's more, it was rather visible that he was rather eager to follow through with his threat if given cause. ''I feel as though that's the proper way to treat a brazen thief. Think the good folk in black might share my opinion... Maybe I should ask 'em?''

[Allassanachassanya]

"Speech"
"Others"

Klave was far past indignation by the time Einar was finished speaking. There was undeniable, simmering tension between the two now, but to Klave's horror, Einar had the upper hand. True, he could call the guards over to deal with the man, but that would be drawing attention to himself and the Dhani within their midst. Attention being something he desperately shunned in that particular moment, the slaver had grown pale, but simply clenched his knuckles tight and scraped a bare smile over his thin lips, though the very act of gifting Einar his smile seemed to hurt him physically.

"I'm most certainly not a thief, good sir." Ssanya almost snorted, but stopped herself. Apparently, Klave truly believed the lie he told himself. After their journey together, she could see why. The man was opportunistic, but he wasn't neccessarily evil. Ssanya thought he didn't have it in him. Instead, Klave was a man who could tell himself something unbelievable and come to believe it chimes later. It was a handy talent... for a crook. Unbeknownst to Einar, he was being conned out of more than just his hard-earned mizas. No one in the right mind would buy Allassanachassanya, she of the Eyktol nest, she of the race of Dhani that were hated by the city, for that would be treason. The reasoning for the hatred was something she didn't understand, but accepted with a resigned understanding that the world she now lived in was one of hardship.

With a sigh, the slaver continued, "But I'm content with 300 and not a drop more... or less." He briefly thought to extend his hand, then rejected the notion. Insulting specimens such as Einar didn't deserve the handshake of business well done. Instead, he levelled a stare at the man, and with a minute shake of his head spoke once more, "I'll expect the mizas before I hand over your new purchase. If you have that amount on your personage, I'll gladly take it now and you may have Sanya straight away. Otherwise, return with the mizas within the next 24 bells, and you may have her then."

ooc :

Bit short, sorry!

"Meaning Through Death"

.

[Belugnir]

Einar had found himself rather content with the aggravation apparent in the man before him... though after the smug satisfaction passed, he'd realized that he'd had far more luck than wit in this exchange... his guess was that this bugger was an outsider like himself, otherwise this whole ordeal could have gone far worse. Sobered up from his pig-headed spite, by his own common sense rather than by anything the crook had to say, Ein reached into the bag that hung from his belt. He'd taken half a chime of rummaging through a coin pouch, relieving it of just under forty gold coins, before dumping the pouch and what remained within it into the slaver's hand.

''You've got three hundred golden Mizas there, down to a copper.'' , truth be told, there was likely anywhere between two hundred and ninety and three full hundred gold coins in the pouch, Ein would count out the exact difference once he'd gotten the girl to the inn where he was staying... and would take delight in every copper that he'd skimmed off the slaver.
He had nothing further to say to the man, and assuming that the weight of the pouch he gave over was as satisfactory as it ought to have been, along with the fact that the majority of the coins within it were, in fact, solid gold Mizas, he'd move on... though he thought a great deal on Klave's account.

I do hope you spend a chime choking to death for every coin in that purse, you swine.

He would place a hand across the shoulder of the girl he'd just bought, before nudging her to walk in front of him... assuming she could walk proper on her own, at the very bloody least. He would only speak to her once they were a decent few dozen steps away from the slaver and the market.

''Get your bloody back up straight. I didn't just pay half a season's wage 'cause I get a stiffie out of kicking a make-believe cripple around.'', he slid the palm of his free hand across his face, as though rebuking himself for the folly he'd just committed... What the soddin' hell am I supposed to do with her now anyway..., it would be a long, dull stare he gave the lass as they walked the water-twined streets of Ravok, walking at whatever pace the girl could manage...

''...When's the last time you've had something to eat?''

[Allassanachassanya]

"Speech"
"Others"

Ssanya hadn't thought it was possible: to actually be sold off. Somehow she had grown accustomed to Klave's ownership so that it didn't feel like he owned her, as such. In her mind it was more of an abduction anyway, and it was easy to hate him for it. Of course, he had treated her as a slave on the ship. She'd toiled over cleaning, mostly, working the deck so that it was neat and orderly. She had grown to detest the swell of the sea and the pervasive stink of the salt and brine. Yet she had never thought she would actually be sold, and had always thought she was a captive rather than an actual slave. Three hundred mizas was her worth, apparently, and gods she felt pathetic for it.

It was even more horrible to see the numbers of the other slaves in the market, some better preserved than her and others in a worse state. Each and every one was clearly seen as less by the majority of the citizens of Ravok. A commodity, she supposed. In an earlier time, she would have held the same viewpoint. Now she was the commodity, rather than the free woman. In less time than it took to fully comprehend her new situation, the man had placed a hand on her shoulder and was leading his new purchase away.

She walked in front of her new owner. She straightened her spine when he told her to do so, but she wanted to turn around and look at him properly. His was a disembodied voice, sounding vaguely regretful and wholly coarse. When he asked his question she almost answered without thinking of the consequences, before promptly shutting her mouth. Was she stupid? Klave had told her that talking and letting people hear her accent was a sure-fire way of getting herself killed by the guardsmen of the city. Ssanya didn't understand how Ravok operated, but she only had Klave's word, and that would have to do until she found out otherwise. It was clear though, as she looked around, that the city was populated with humans, for the majority. She supposed that was normal enough.

Ssanya stopped and turned around so that Einar could see her hands. She raised her head to the man, and pointed to her mouth as she shook her head. Her expression was sullen, especially in the cast of her eyes, which were a dull brown. Their expression matched his somewhat resigned look, though she didn't recognise that. Then she sighed through her nose, and wondered how to show him the answer to his question. Finally, she raised a solitary finger, signalling 1 day since her last full meal. It had been a nice one, after all. Klave's sister and business associate had decided it would be worth it to give their stock a little fresh greens after the meagre fare from the boat. Her stomach was nevertheless rumbling, having been provoked by the nice meal last night and the implied promise of further sustenance.

Then she pointed at him, and raised her eyebrows as she tilted her head. She was superbly aware of how utterly idiotic her miming looked, and she longed to speak with the voice Siku had given her. All she wanted to know was what his name was, but she doubted he would understand. Frustrated, she furiously shook her head and crossed her arms defensively across her chest whilst waiting for his further instruction. Every action she took felt childishly exaggerated, and she hated it.

"Meaning Through Death"

.

[Belugnir]

With his innate irritation and ounce of bloodlust toward anyone on the delivering end of slavery, Einar was left with a grim expression, not a hateful one, but one of exhaustion. Displaying, in all its dried and withered splendor the aftermath of combining a lone mercenary's life with the misuse of personal magic... frankly he was just as bad if not worse of a sight to behold than the girl that walked with him. And his state of mind was no better. It was as though he hadn't been told she was a mute a moment ago... then again, she didn't rightly act as a mute. There was way too much expression and uncertainty in the way she tried to communicate. As though she was not used to being either a mute... or a slave for that matter.

Einar was about to weave a hand down at her childlike flailing, only nodding at her attempt of clarifying the time span in which she hadn't eaten... before something else got his attention. A Black One passed them by, carrying bundled scrolls under his arm and approaching a notice board stood several dozen feet away. He began to replace an old, faded notice with one inscribed in fresh ink...

Ein's most prevailing thought at this point was the opinion that he'd frankly just wasted the majority of his remaining coin on some... spiteful act of compassion. He didn't really need a slave, sure as hell didn't care enough to take care of the girl as though they were kin, and yet simply letting her go would have caused him to wake up in the middle of the night sweating with disdain for himself, as she'd likely not last five chimes without being captured or recognized as a runaway slave... Frankly, he wanted to find some source of income as quickly as possible. Nicking a potential job fresh off the notice board was about as good a place to start as any.


He would gesture for the lass to ease up, though the dismissive weave of his hand could have been interpreted as something wholly different than what he'd intended. Either way, soon they would have walked over to the notice board. And after half a chime of glancing over the parchments posted, Ein's mood seemed to turn ever sourer. There were no tasks for pay up to be taken, only some ravenous propaganda of the city folk against those not of their respectable race. There was an outright outlawing of some snake-folk, Ethaefals, Dhani, who apparently were the culprits in last season's business of frost bombardment that befell the city, and a chunk of other races that Ein didn't rightly care to read about as none of this shite really concerned him in the slightest. With a sullen voice, he turned to the girl again, after grumbling under his breath some horrid, vulgar disapproval of the way this city treated those who weren't rightly cockin' born in it.

''That bugger said you were literate, yeah? You can ye read any of this shite 'ere?''

Her answer really wouldn't matter much. Though if she'd confirmed she was able to read, he'd had inquired additionally ''And ye can write just as well, aye?'', again, if her answers were positive, Ein would simply nod, thankful that he'll be able to at least communicate with the lass without getting irked about it. He'd have taken about a chime to confirm she was, indeed, literate, before moving to march her to the tavern where he'd stayed.

It was a plain establishment, wooden and with a singular upper floor, mayhaps a quarter bell walk away from the notice board where they'd stopped. Ein was normally stingy about his means of transportation, choosing to exert energy over coin almost all of the time, especially with his... latest investment. He would have called for some food, a bath and a damp cloth for the girl that he'd brought with him.

''Would you like to move to a room with two beds?'', the innkeep had asked, eager for an extra couple of silvers toward his income.

''Nay. Just get a bath going and don't try to make good on those rotten potatoes you've got in ye pantry by feedin' em to us. I didn't stroll in 'ere with a cockin' nobleman's daughter, but we ain't bloody swine either.''

The innkeep grumbled under his voice on the matter of filthy outsiders, but ultimately went to do as asked... and considering his rather desolate dining room and the borderline shoddy structure that he ran, it really was no surprise that he'd have to soak up any shyke his sparse customers would dump on him for the plain sake of staying in business... Einar sure knew how to pick 'em...

Soon they would be in the mercenary's room. As plain as they come, slightly dusty, with a single bed, one small, plain chair and stool in one corner, and an ashen hearth in the other. The rest of the arrangement within the room was made up of Einar's equipment and belongings that laid scattered around.

''Put yer arse down in a seat sooner than you collapse, would ye?'', a sideways nod gestured toward the bed, meanwhile Einar went to leave his poleaxe in the corner and undo some of the buckles of the armor he wore upon his arms. Two gauntlets and vambraces off, and he would have gone rummaging through a satchel laid upon the stool, before producing a couple roughened pieces of parchment and a chunk of charcoal.

He would take a seat beside the girl, with all the grace of a bull who'd lost the sense in its hind legs, before tugging the parchment and charcoal at her.

''Gimme yer name and anythin' worth coin that you're decent at. And try to write it down sooner than that crook gets your bath ready.''

[Allassanachassanya]

"Speech"
"Others"

Ssanya's eyes flicked over the notice, trying to decipher the Common script that scrawled across the page. She was literate to a degree. Although the Dhani weren't inherently scholarly, Ssanya had spent enough time outside of the Nest that her reading had improved a little in comparison to her brethren, and she hurriedly picked out words. Words like Dhani, threat, Ethaefal, which was a race she hadn't heard of before, horns, and snake. The connections would be made later as she mulled over horns and the word Ethaefal; connecting the horned woman from Verlyna's Pool with the name of her race. For now, all she could do was keep her lips sealed and nod to answer Belugnir's questions. It made her feel a little brighter to hear the man's disgruntled mutterings at the notice, but she didn't trust him yet. She trusted nobody but herself, and even then, she was painfully aware of how weak and how inexperienced she was.

The two foreigners walked into the inn where Belugnir was obviously staying, and after a brief exchange with the innkeep they traipsed into the man's room. Ssanya was surprised at how tired she felt, a feeling that had wriggled its way into her bones. Having spent days and days locked up on a ship, her legs were not as strong as they could be, and she was significantly more exhausted than she would be ordinarily. She watched the man peel off parts of his armour and sat gingerly down on the bed, wondering what he had in store for her.

So far, the promise of a meal and a bath sounded quite different to what she had imagined a slave owner would prepare for a new acquisition, and that threw her off. Ssanya didn't know how to act. It was true that she was angry, but she wasn't yet so irate that she couldn't think clearly. When he plonked himself down next to her and shoved the parchment and dusty stick of black charcoal at her, she blinked and looked at him curiously, and then bent over the rough sheet with her hand cocked as she pondered.

Sanya
--
Cleen
Carve
Paynt
Lift
Draw

Should she tell him of her most precious skill? She held onto the charcoal as she deliberated. Pride dictated that she tell him, of course she should tell him of her magical skill. Malediction was something that she wanted to share with as many like-minded people as possible, but it was very likely that the man wasn't as keen on the Legacy as others were. She thought of Madeira, and promptly banished the sadness behind her gaze, before dotting a full stop after the word Draw. Then she left a space, and underneath she scribbled in a messy but legible script,

Wat is your name?

As an afterthought, she added,

I am best at carving. Wood and bone.

"Meaning Through Death"

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[Belugnir]

Her writing had a mediocre butcher's note to it, though Einar was hardly one to judge in that regard, seeing as he was likely the solitary person that could read his own atrocious handwriting. At the very least, this Sanya was literate enough to have a means of communicating in spite of being a mute. What was written down in reply to his inquiry did quirk a brow, however, though he would respond to her own inquiry of his name firstly, before making mention of anything else.

''I'd be Einar. Einar Belugnir.'', there was no joy of first meetings displayed in Ein's tone... Gone was the self-expending impulse that drove him to essentially bully Klave into selling the girl to him for less than she was likely worth... and with his reckless disdain for spiting slavers at his own dispense gone... Ein frankly had no idea what to do with her now.

Cleaning and lifting..., if there was one thing Ein could always do by himself, it was manual labor, though he supposed he could have her going about cleaning this shoddy tavern to earn a drop or two of coin from the owner... maybe if the rotten bugger had gotten the cockin' tavern clean once in a while, people would actually visit.

''Carving, painting and drawing... huh? What, you some carpenters daughter? Ye old folks couldn't afford to eat so they sold you into slavery?'', Ein was voicing his guesswork out loud, if anything, he'd be reasonable enough to find out the girl's background if she ultimately ended up sticking around... frankly, this whole ordeal was as new for him as it was for her, and he was equally drained of energy, visibly so, yet in spite of that, there was still disdain for his assumption present in the tone with which he spoke.