Timestamp: 36th of Fall, 518 A.V.
The young woman stared at the two older women with disbelief in her eyes. “What? I don’t understand. You said it would be okay if I was a little short this week… that I could still see Caitlyn.” Mercy said softly, her eyes growing wide and taking on a desperate sort of hue to her already watering gaze. “My bells got cut at the laundry. There just wasn’t the business this tenday for some reason. It should be better next tenday. I’m already working on other options for cash. I even skipped meals last week to make that payment. At least let me hold her for five chimes…. I just need to see her. Please….” The young woman begged, tears she didn’t want to shed – a weakness she didn’t want to show to these two women she was slowly learning were heartless – were already collecting in her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
The two women looked at each other. Their expressions were unreadable and hard. And yet the door swung open further to allow the young woman admittance. One of the older women leaned heavily on a cane and walked backwards, her cane tapping at the hardwood of the old rambling house that was more or less intact. It was one of the few in that section that had a roof that seemed whole. The other woman held the door. “Come in.” She said, without inflection. She held the door wider, as if seemingly giving in to the young woman’s urgings, and allowed her in. But their welcome wasn’t really ‘welcoming’.
The older of the two women shook her head. “You signed a contract. You must pay on time or no visitations. And if you don’t pay the full tenday board, we can’t feed and care for your baby properly. We aren’t a bank or Goldfinger. We have many many families that want these children, Mercy. And we won’t hesitate to hand them over especially since this has become a habit with you.” She said viciously, low under her breath.
The second woman slammed the door and locked it after admitting Mercy, even as the first woman turned on her. She moved fast, brutal, and was swift with her cane. The younger woman was unprepared, tired, and half-starved from skipping meals to pay for her baby’s board. It only took two blows to the head and she was down. Ribs cracked under the merciless cane. Mercy tried to run, staggering up to her feet and taking flight with what was left of her determination to see her child. She passed through the parlor where the main visitations always happened and through what looked like a kitchen with the older women in pursuit. She tripped over something on the floor – a toy perhaps – and staggered but kept running… the blows to her head affecting her ability to think.
Desperately, she crossed another doorway, staggered down a hall, and was into a bigger main room lined with cribs. The two older women were right behind her. The room stank of filth and death. Crib after crib contained children, some labeled with battered child-sized chalkboards with carelessly scrawled names, some with just X’s. The ones with X’s were starved, thin beyond recognizing them as human… while the ones with scrawled names were filthy, most too weak to cry…. but alive. One or two coughs could be heard along with small sounds weak sick. Mercy ran along the aisle between cribs, frantically reading names until she saw Caitlyn’s crib… her name had been scrawled – barely erased – and a big white X had been put on the board with chalk. Her daughter looked up at her with hollow eyes, barely moving, her tiny weak form holding onto its life with frail bonds. A fly crawled across her forehead, big and ugly, the kind that bit and sucked blood.
Mercy staggered then, understanding why they didn’t want to let her see her child. No coin? No food. Even as Mercy reached for the tiny bundle in the filthy cradle, the two women who had been in pursuit reached her. Blows began to rain down on her as she stared at her daughter, wanting her, yet unable to get to her. It was hard, so hard, seeing her daughters sunken in blue eyes watching the women beat her.
Then everything went dark.
Kelski had left Moth back at The Midnight Gem. There was no cart horse or cart needed for errands in The Market. Instead, Kelski was running. She liked to run and often took them through the city, usually armed and more than capable of defending herself. She had already done the shopping, and had gotten a lot of work done in the workshop. She just needed to get out, clear her head, and recharge to spend a long night finishing several projects that were time sensitive and complex. Kelski could have worked through the burnout, but she’d learned since opening The Gem that it was far better to get out and clear her head than to keep trying to turn out good work when she wasn’t in her best frame of mind.
So she was doing a little recon, wandering the streets at a light jog, really paying attention to the normal sounds of the various street types – mud, broken cobble, stone, packed earth – so that she could put it to use when she was trying to pass quietly through the same textured materials. It was one of the things Kalitz had told her to pay attention to… to study… to memorize. So she was… jogging and listening… memorizing how her boots sounded splashing through mood and dodging steaming piles of horse offal in the streets. She was listening to other things as well, the sounds of Sunberth, as her breath came in even bursts and she tried to move herself carefully through the city learning. It was odd looking at ones environment that way… memorizing sounds she’d paid no attention to before.
Kelski cut back through the Market, kept her pace, and ended up at the end of it near the water where Svefra routinely moored their boats looking for fares to take across the broken bridges. When she turned to skirt the river bank adjacent to the Market, still listening, she thought she heard it. It was faint… croaked like a frog… but she was sure it was the word ‘help’. Kelski halted, tilted her head, and swiveled around. She was on a bank up above the river overlooking the moorings with the market at her back. She looked out across the river, back towards the market, and finally down.
That’s when she thought she saw a bundle of trash, something pushed off the street… except it had hair. Kelski refocused her eyes, shifted her vision into her classic eagle sight, and scanned the form. It was something wrapped in a filthy blanket and she could see marks where it was dumped off the edge, probably rolled down the bank, and had come to rest among other trash. She could see an arm that had come loose, fingers twitching….
Kelski immediately figured it for a person murdered and the body disposed of. Sometimes people did that, too lazy to drive them or carry them all the way to the slag heap to toss them on. Should she investigate? Should she just walk away? Women in Sunberth were rarely innocent. And the ones that were innocent didn’t live long and often ended up like the women below seemed to have. It was none of her business… but then again Ebon had been none of her business… and look what a friend he was? She cursed softly under her breath and started looking for a way down.
The young woman stared at the two older women with disbelief in her eyes. “What? I don’t understand. You said it would be okay if I was a little short this week… that I could still see Caitlyn.” Mercy said softly, her eyes growing wide and taking on a desperate sort of hue to her already watering gaze. “My bells got cut at the laundry. There just wasn’t the business this tenday for some reason. It should be better next tenday. I’m already working on other options for cash. I even skipped meals last week to make that payment. At least let me hold her for five chimes…. I just need to see her. Please….” The young woman begged, tears she didn’t want to shed – a weakness she didn’t want to show to these two women she was slowly learning were heartless – were already collecting in her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.
The two women looked at each other. Their expressions were unreadable and hard. And yet the door swung open further to allow the young woman admittance. One of the older women leaned heavily on a cane and walked backwards, her cane tapping at the hardwood of the old rambling house that was more or less intact. It was one of the few in that section that had a roof that seemed whole. The other woman held the door. “Come in.” She said, without inflection. She held the door wider, as if seemingly giving in to the young woman’s urgings, and allowed her in. But their welcome wasn’t really ‘welcoming’.
The older of the two women shook her head. “You signed a contract. You must pay on time or no visitations. And if you don’t pay the full tenday board, we can’t feed and care for your baby properly. We aren’t a bank or Goldfinger. We have many many families that want these children, Mercy. And we won’t hesitate to hand them over especially since this has become a habit with you.” She said viciously, low under her breath.
The second woman slammed the door and locked it after admitting Mercy, even as the first woman turned on her. She moved fast, brutal, and was swift with her cane. The younger woman was unprepared, tired, and half-starved from skipping meals to pay for her baby’s board. It only took two blows to the head and she was down. Ribs cracked under the merciless cane. Mercy tried to run, staggering up to her feet and taking flight with what was left of her determination to see her child. She passed through the parlor where the main visitations always happened and through what looked like a kitchen with the older women in pursuit. She tripped over something on the floor – a toy perhaps – and staggered but kept running… the blows to her head affecting her ability to think.
Desperately, she crossed another doorway, staggered down a hall, and was into a bigger main room lined with cribs. The two older women were right behind her. The room stank of filth and death. Crib after crib contained children, some labeled with battered child-sized chalkboards with carelessly scrawled names, some with just X’s. The ones with X’s were starved, thin beyond recognizing them as human… while the ones with scrawled names were filthy, most too weak to cry…. but alive. One or two coughs could be heard along with small sounds weak sick. Mercy ran along the aisle between cribs, frantically reading names until she saw Caitlyn’s crib… her name had been scrawled – barely erased – and a big white X had been put on the board with chalk. Her daughter looked up at her with hollow eyes, barely moving, her tiny weak form holding onto its life with frail bonds. A fly crawled across her forehead, big and ugly, the kind that bit and sucked blood.
Mercy staggered then, understanding why they didn’t want to let her see her child. No coin? No food. Even as Mercy reached for the tiny bundle in the filthy cradle, the two women who had been in pursuit reached her. Blows began to rain down on her as she stared at her daughter, wanting her, yet unable to get to her. It was hard, so hard, seeing her daughters sunken in blue eyes watching the women beat her.
Then everything went dark.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Kelski had left Moth back at The Midnight Gem. There was no cart horse or cart needed for errands in The Market. Instead, Kelski was running. She liked to run and often took them through the city, usually armed and more than capable of defending herself. She had already done the shopping, and had gotten a lot of work done in the workshop. She just needed to get out, clear her head, and recharge to spend a long night finishing several projects that were time sensitive and complex. Kelski could have worked through the burnout, but she’d learned since opening The Gem that it was far better to get out and clear her head than to keep trying to turn out good work when she wasn’t in her best frame of mind.
So she was doing a little recon, wandering the streets at a light jog, really paying attention to the normal sounds of the various street types – mud, broken cobble, stone, packed earth – so that she could put it to use when she was trying to pass quietly through the same textured materials. It was one of the things Kalitz had told her to pay attention to… to study… to memorize. So she was… jogging and listening… memorizing how her boots sounded splashing through mood and dodging steaming piles of horse offal in the streets. She was listening to other things as well, the sounds of Sunberth, as her breath came in even bursts and she tried to move herself carefully through the city learning. It was odd looking at ones environment that way… memorizing sounds she’d paid no attention to before.
Kelski cut back through the Market, kept her pace, and ended up at the end of it near the water where Svefra routinely moored their boats looking for fares to take across the broken bridges. When she turned to skirt the river bank adjacent to the Market, still listening, she thought she heard it. It was faint… croaked like a frog… but she was sure it was the word ‘help’. Kelski halted, tilted her head, and swiveled around. She was on a bank up above the river overlooking the moorings with the market at her back. She looked out across the river, back towards the market, and finally down.
That’s when she thought she saw a bundle of trash, something pushed off the street… except it had hair. Kelski refocused her eyes, shifted her vision into her classic eagle sight, and scanned the form. It was something wrapped in a filthy blanket and she could see marks where it was dumped off the edge, probably rolled down the bank, and had come to rest among other trash. She could see an arm that had come loose, fingers twitching….
Kelski immediately figured it for a person murdered and the body disposed of. Sometimes people did that, too lazy to drive them or carry them all the way to the slag heap to toss them on. Should she investigate? Should she just walk away? Women in Sunberth were rarely innocent. And the ones that were innocent didn’t live long and often ended up like the women below seemed to have. It was none of her business… but then again Ebon had been none of her business… and look what a friend he was? She cursed softly under her breath and started looking for a way down.