Solo Finding Faith

[Allassanachassanya]

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14th Autumn 521
"Speech"

It was about ten days before Ssanya had the opportunity to go to the Temple of the Black Sun. Davic, one of the new apprentices, had been sent out to make some measurements for some repair work near the Temple. He had requested that Ssanya come with him, and Thorin had agreed. Ssanya had been both pleased, and wary. For the little time she had known Davic, he had shown himself to be generally as distrustful and unpleasant towards her as most native-born Ravokians were when they first realised she was both a foreigner and a Dhani at that. Therefore, it was surprising that he had requested her help. Ssanya figured that it was because Davic had little other choice, more than any actual desire to spend time with her. She was pleased though, because it not only gave her a chance to go out into the city, but it also gave her time to get to know Davic a little better, with the slim hope she could work on improving their relationship.

Davic had hired a ravosala for the trip in its entirety. They were punting slowly through the watery streets of Ravok, whilst Davic studied, and Ssanya sat quietly observing the city. The ravosalaman was skilled, but the route to the centre of the city was somewhat convoluted, and it was a busy day, making it difficult to get anywhere at speed. The sun was out, and the people of Ravok were enjoying its warmth.

Ssanya was studying the citizens of Ravok. Ever since she had met the person who had likely been an Ebonstryfer of one kind or another, she was on the lookout for other city guards, or Ebon, who she would need to avoid should escape ever become an option. The majority of Ravokians were going about their day as normal, walking or boating to their destinations, or simply going for a leisurely morning stroll. As a slave, most people paid her little attention, which gave her ample opportunity to study. She wasn’t quite sure what to look for, however. The city guards, the ones who kept the city in order, were clear as the nose in front of her face. The majority stood at intersections, or busy areas. Most had a weapon of some sort that was visible to the civilians. They were there to be seen. But Ssanya was sure that there were others, who would look like ordinary people, and those were much more difficult to spot.

”What do you make of Janson’s new inventions?” Davic’s question jolted her attention back to the ravosala. She had been losing focus. The ravosalaman considered for a few moments, whilst he concentrated on the route ahead. When he replied, his voice was thoughtful. He was clearly someone who thought before they spoke. ”I think they’re a good idea, meself. The cleaner water tastes somehow sweeter. And it's good to improve the city. Makes me proud."
"Hmm." Davic scratched his chin. "I don't like it. Don’t like him much. I'm not sure about this… technology. Anyway, drinking from the lake has never hurt me before."
"Aye, well. Janson can't be a bad influence, otherwise the Voice wouldn't allow 'im to continue. Personally, I trust the Voice." You should too, his tone implied. The revosalaman smiled, the smile of a man that believes, deeply. Davic wasn’t impressed though, and humphed dismissively as he turned away. She packed that information away for later.

WC: 592

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[Allassanachassanya]

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Date 517
"Speech"

The ravosalaman punted them forwards; the lake water gurgled pleasantly against the hull of the boat. With the conversation over, Ssanya began once more to observe the city’s people. A couple, who were dressed in the latest fashions, stood out from the rest. They were walking in step with each other, a little in front of the prow of the ravosala. The woman’s glossy red hair was shining in the sunlight, and her laughter was bright and tinkling as her companion looped his arm through hers. It was an idyllic, peaceful scene. Yet to Ssanya’s ears, the laughter was fake and the woman a fraud. As the ravosala pushed forwards, she turned imperceptibly in an attempt to look at the red-head’s face, but the couple had turned away.

Were they Ebonstryfe soldiers, or spies? A spy could be anyone at all. With that in mind, could she really trust anyone? She shivered, although the day wasn’t cold.
”Hey, girl. Pay attention!” Davic lightly clipped the side of her head with his hand. Startled, she turned to look at him, and briefly caught the revulsion in his eyes as he looked at her.
”Yes?”
Davic hesitated. She was just a slave, and she had no right to look at him so… directly like that. But he had seen her Dhani form a few times, and the thought of that body hidden away inside this slim, fragile, human skin freaked him out.
”We’re here, alright? Grab these,” he gestured at the bag with the gear, ”and climb over there.” He pointed up, to the edge of the canalside.

They were pulling up to the location of the repair job. A section of the walkway had begun to show signs of old age, and the residents nearby wanted some improvements making. Thorin had been instructed that it was simply a few small repairs, but looking at the walkway from underneath, Ssanya suspected this job would turn out to be bigger than expected. She hoisted the bag onto her shoulders, and scrambled up the side of the canal, until she was stood on the walkway itself.

Davic was below, notebook in hand, casting an apprentice’s eye over the work that was needed. The old ravosalaman was steadying the boat, and his back was to the both of them. Ssanya thought on Davic’s reaction to their guide’s conversation about Janson. Maybe there was a way to earn his trust a little. However, judging from the glower on Davic’s face, she would have to time her ‘make friends’ plan wisely. Now certainly wasn’t the time.

WC: 429

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[Allassanachassanya]

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Date 517
"Speech"

”Girl, I need you to climb down onto that ledge, the one you were just on. Take the plumb line, and the ‘measure.
”Yes, Davic.” He frowned. ”Just get on with it already.” Ssanya thought it would be best to do as the man said. She rummaged within the rucksack and withdrew the tools he’d indicated. The plumb line was a long piece of thin rope with a heavy iron weight attached to the end of it, and the measure was a well-worn, but precise stick with markings on it to indicate distances.

The ledge he’d indicated was not exactly supposed to be a ledge, but was formed from part of the structure of the street that was crumbling into the water below. It was a little peculiar just how broken this section was, especially how close to the centre of the city it was. Ssanya would have thought that the city's guardians would choose to show a little more attention to the parts of the city that were nearest the centre, nearest the Temple, the Voice, and the Ebon headquarters.

Perhaps this little corner of Ravok had been passed over by the elites. There was certainly a forgotten feeling about the street. The way it ended in a dead end. The closed-in look of the houses, the way they seemed to lean in as if sheltering themselves from some unseen wind. Ssanya wrinkled her nose, and sniffed the air. It had a dank kind of smell to it too, which seemed particularly strange to her. When she'd first arrived in Ravok, she had been expecting the cold, damp smell of rotting wood floating on such a dark and gloomy lake, but Ravok had subverted her expectations. Therefore, to smell that dampness, that rotting scent here was peculiar, and out of the ordinary.

However, the reason for the sudden request for repair soon became clear. The silent denizens of the nearby properties had obviously got a new neighbour.

”Oh good! Are you sent by Thorin?” A woman was scurrying out of a nearby house. Her voice was just the right level to be completely irritating, and Ssanya was glad that she didn’t have to deal with her. She peered over the edge of the canal into the ravosala below. Davic had also spotted the woman (who couldn't?) and he smiled, weakly, and replied in the affirmative. ”Oh, good! This place needs tidying up, immediately. And I also want to purchase some iron fences, and I want building for us a place to embark onto the water. I am, of course, willing to pay any price to make this place beautiful as it should be!” Her voice was raising higher and higher, her words pointedly pitched towards the occupants of the other houses on the small street.

WC: 461

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

"But excuse me, how rude. My name is Flavia. Flavia Stone. I moved here recently, I bought this fine house, and came to this neighbourhood to develop it. Little did I realise that this beautiful street was crumbling into the lake! Shocking, if you ask me." The woman, Flavia, shook her head in disgust. Davic seized the brief moment of quiet in between the woman's so-far constant stream of words, and gestured Ssanya sharply. "We'll be getting on with it, then. Ms. Stone." He nodded firmly at Ms Stone, and promptly turned his back on her to gather his papers and equipment from the boat.

Ssanya smiled secretly to herself, as it was obvious that Flavia was taken aback by Davic's abrupt nature. Muttering something along the lines of, "Well, I'll leave you to it then," she walked back to her new property and shut the door firmly behind her. Ssanya had been wondering why Davic had been sent on this assignment, and now something had become a little clearer. It was part of his job as an apprentice to learn the trade. That obviously included metal-working for the most part, and to a lesser degree this kind of assignment work. But it also included a lesson on how to be comfortable with the public. That could be another in for her, if she could somehow approach Davic and provide some sort of social assistance. Perhaps...

Time to work. Ssanya began measuring the distances from the walkway surface to the flat plane of the lake. She read out the numbers as she went, and slowly they created a plan of the section for repair. Davic wasn't a great conversationalist, but he was surprisingly skilled at technical drawings. She had seen his sketches lying around at the workshop, and though she wasn't much of an artist herself, she could recognise that his penmanship was neat and precise. Another reason why he had been given this assignment.

After half a bell or so, the ravosalaman left, leaving Ssanya and Davic alone in the quiet dead end. They worked in relative silence, measuring and inspecting the damage that time had wrought on the walkway. It wasn't really difficult work, and Ssanya was fairly used to this kind of odd-body labour, so she began wondering just how to approach getting on Davic's good side. He was the type of man who had strong ideals, and that type of person was easily angered.

After musing for a good while, she finally decided to try. "Davic. I agree with you, about Janson. What you said before, I agree." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't an outright lie either. Ssanya had no opinion either way, but she hoped it would be a good opportunity to assess the young man. Davic appeared initially started by her assertion, then he relaxed somewhat, though a small frown played across his forehead.

"You agree, huh? And why is that?" He began climbing out of the ravosala. The boat rocked a little, so Ssanya slid her legs down to act as a temporary anchor, and offered her hand to the man. He took it, but gingerly, as if she would bite. To offer assurance, she smiled softly. Once he was safely on the path, she gently brushed her dark hair from her eyes, so that he could better see her face, and therefore her good intentions. "Well, the city has been here a long time. It has not needed inventions before. Why now? Seems suspicious."

Davic narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. It was still unnatural and foreign to hear the sibilance coming from her human-shaped mouth, but it seemed Ssanya was speaking sense. "Don't get me wrong, I would never question the Voice. But there is something strange about Janson, and I will not trust him, or his toys!" He huffed a sigh. "It is good you agree with me. That ravosalaman didn't know what he was talking about."

WC: 657

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

"No, he didn't." Ssanya agreed. The ravosalaman had gone to the Temple to pray, he'd said. She hoped he would be gone a while longer. It seemed Davic didn't really like the older man, and he was opening up a bit more now that he was gone. She smiled again, her face carefully composed to appear as relaxed and open as she could. To a master con-man, her amateur attempts at deception would be painfully obvious, but Davic was not such a person. Thankfully, his thoughts were once more on work. Ssanya hoped that he would also think of her more kindly now. She could only hope, and it would only take one connection at a time for those connections to build up and create a way out.

They continued working for a while longer, until Davic was satisfied with the sketches and the plans he had. There would be a considerable amount of metalwork, mainly the fences Flavia had requested. Finally, Davic had come to the end of the preparation. The final part involved talking to Ms. Stone about the style and design of the fences she wanted. Ssanya could almost see the dawning realisation on his face as he realised he had to deal with the woman's insufferable chatter. With a deep sigh, he gathered the designs and sketches, and began to approach Flavia's front door.

Ssanya didn't want to go with him, and really there was no need. She would only be in the way. Tentatively, she asked, "Davic, what should I do?" He look nonplussed, because there wasn't anything else for her to do. "Stay in the boat?" It was a statement, but phrased as a question. The apprentice was not used to controlling a slave, not yet anyway. They always started out this way before they became used to her, as if she was some piece of furniture. Ssanya felt excitement stirring in her chest. Another opportunity! The Temple was nearby, and if she phrased it well enough, perhaps Davic would give her permission to visit.

"Davic, could I go to the Temple to pray? In all the time I have been living here, I haven't ever been to the Temple, and we're so close here. Would that be acceptable?" She waited, holding her breath, whilst Davic considered her request. He mulled it over, obviously deliberating the consequences if anything were to happen. "You'd only be going to pray, not for anything else?" Ssanya shook her head, and relaxed her jaw. "Only to pray. If I return to the ravosala in half a bell?"

He hesitated, weighing up the options, then assented. "Sure, but don't you dare petch up. And bring that ravosalaman back with you if he hasn't already returned when you come back. I did pay him for his boat and services, after all." Ssanya smiled with genuine heartiness, and found herself warming to Davic. It seemed he wasn't all bad moods and racist attitude.

Making sure to thank him, Ssanya turned and began walking the route to the Temple, following the route that seemed the most travelled. It really was closer than she was expecting. Less than five chimes later, she found herself at the edge of the wide, central canal of Ravok. There were plenty of ravosalas moored, as well as flitting back and forth between the towering building and the rest of the city. She angled her head to gaze at the beautiful architecture that made up the beating heart of Ravok, and caught a small gasp in her throat at the general size and scale of the Temple.

Once, long ago, Alvadas had essentially mimicked the cities of Mizahar, including a miniature copy of Ravok, a city within a city. Back then, she had been impressed with the watery layout of the copy-city. It was really nothing compared with the real deal though. She hopped lightly on a passing transport boat, and rode quietly under the cool stone arches that formed the frontage of the Temple. Passing under those arches filled her with a sudden sense of entering a huge monster's gaping maw. The Ravokians travelling with her seemed at ease, or indeed reverent, but each with awed faces or smiles as if coming back to a friend.

Yet Ssanya couldn't squash the feeling that she was being judged, suddenly and ferociously, by a power that was far beyond her understanding. The towering, black, iron gates were adorned with pearls in a showering sunburst, and were guarded by looming, silent Ebonstryfe. Ssanya steeled herself, and approached the gates.

WC: 759

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

Ssanya was at the back of the group of Ravokians entering the Temple, and she slowed her pace as she became closer and closer to the gates. The tall, striaght-backed guards showed her no particular interest, but even so she could feel their gaze boring into her as they carefully inspected every individual that passed in front of their watchful eyes. Cold air brushed against her cheeks as she slipped through the towering iron gates, and a scent of incense and something else, ancient and unrecognised, made her shiver. Rhysol.

Ssanya ignored the other travellers; they dispersed anyhow, leaving her standing somewhat tentatively in the entrance of the temple. Her attention was completely taken by the scale of the building, unlike anything she'd seen before. Somehow, it was even more impressive inside. Various denizens of the city were inside, some kneeling in prostration, others sat on benches. These surrounded the most unusual aspect of the temple; an alien, onyx-black shard of something, Ssanya didn't know what, that stood upright in the centre of the circular chamber. She watched two black-clothes officials walking ponderously, deep in conversation, up a beautifully twisting staircase to the balconies surrounding the worship chamber, and therein to the rooms she could just spy that connected to the surrounding walkway. The building was surprisingly busy, but any speech dissipated into the high ceiling and morphed into something diaphanous and fleeting that came back to the small Dhani woman in gibberish whispers.

Distantly, through the thick stone walls, the city bell tolled, marking at least ten chimes since she'd left Davic. Twenty chimes remained, twenty chimes in which to do what, exactly? Ssanya was unsure. The only thing she knew she needed was to develop her understanding of Rhysol, the God of the city. She needed to be armed with as much knowledge as possible, to prepare herself for whatever may lie ahead.

She scanned the aisles, looking for someone who may be able to teach her. There were various ordinary citizens, a few guards, no-one who looked approachable. She moved forwards, not wanting to stay in one place for too long, not wanting to stand out unnecessarily. Her footsteps sounded strangely loud to her ears as her feet scuffed against the polished, marble floor. She concentrated on quietening her steps, lightly lifting her feet and treading on her toes first before letting her heels lightly grace the surface.

As she moved forwards, she spotted the ravosalaman, praying quietly to himself near the front of the benches, almost directly in front of the empty altar. She slightly altered her course, and slipped onto the bench next to the elder with a courteous nod of her head. Mimicking his actions, she bent her head. Her dark hair slipped over her face, and she found her heart-rate slowing as she breathed slower, inhaling the scent of incense until she felt lightheaded. She carefully kept her eye on the man beside her, watching his movements. As he raised his face to gaze at the mural of Rhysol, Ssanya too raised her head and studied the mural in wonder for the first time, seeing the god of Ravok leading his people to their safe haven.

Suddenly, the people's devotion to their god became a little clearer, as if mist had parted. Rhysol had provided safety and shelter from the Valterrian, if this painting was to be believed. Ssanya's eyes greedily absorbed the artistry, the detailed brush strokes, and acknowleged the depth of feeling that flowed from the mural. Whoever had painted it had truly believed that Rhysol was their saviour. Ssanya, knowing very little of the god, only knew that the mural's meaning clashed harshly with the general view of Rhysol being the god of chaos and evil. Turning her gaze, Ssanya saw that the ravosalaman had relaxed back into a sitting position, and she felt the moment was right. In a low voice, she murmured, "What do you pray for?"

WC: 654

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

The boat-man didn't seem much surprised by her question. Without pausing to think, he said, "I pray for easy times, and I pray that Rhysol will look after us." He leaned forwards contemplatively as he gazed at the inky-black altar. "That young whipper-snapper I've been boating around is the type of person who would cause trouble for the sake of causing trouble. I pray that people like him see the error of their ways, for the good of Rhysol's city." It was a fair answer. Ssanya noted again the conviction in the old man's voice. Though he was well on the route to old age, there was a sharpness in his voice and his manner that Ssanya could only appreciate. To some extent, she agreed with him too. There was something about Davic that seemed a little volatile and unshielded. It was an interesting trait, and Ssanya wondered again whether that was something she could exploit.

"What do you pray for, girl? You're a stranger, and a slave here to boot. Why are you here?" Ssanya leaned back on the pew to gaze once more at the mural of Ravok above her. She thought about giving him a true answer, that she was here through no choice of her own, that her foolish trust in people had got her into this trouble, that she was only praying to Rhysol so that she could gain the trust of anyone around her so that she could build an escape plan with a little more ease and a few less prying eyes. But no, she couldn't tell anyone what her innermost thoughts were. She had no friends, no-one with whom to share her plans with.

"I pray to get closer to Rhysol. I may be a slave, and a stranger, but I have been here for a few years now. Ravok is becoming my home, and Rhysol..." She hesitated. The words felt dead on her lips, but she spat them out anyway, "Rhysol is my god." Rhysol is my god. Perhaps it was true. The god of evil. Her god. It was a strange concept for someone who wasn't a particularly fervent follower of any deity. What did those words mean? They were just words, and meant nothing. Or did they? Perhaps she had accidentally bound herself to this confusing deity, this god of evil and also peace. God of chaos and also order. Ssanya ground her knuckle against her forehead. The incense was beginning to get on her nerves. The pungent scent was invading every sense, making her feel woozy and unfocused.

"What does this mean..?" She broke off as she realised she didn't know the man's name. He looked up to where she was pointing, and gazed back down at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"What does the mural mean? You do know that outside of Ravok, Rhysol does have a... different reputation. How can he be depicted as a saviour here?"

The man's face twisted in a grimace. "Oh yes, I know the talk, and what our lord is known as out past the boundary of the lake side. It is blasphemy! There is nothing chaotic, or evil, in this city. We have laws that keep order in place, cleanliness, beautiful architecture that rivals any other. A god that protects us from bad weather, and from bad influences. I love Rhysol; I love our Lord." His voice was impassioned, almost trembling with feeling, despite being barely above a whisper. The longer he spoke, the more impassioned he became. Ssanya nodded with understanding, mainly to keep the ravosalaman from turning on her, as she felt he might from the way he was beginning to act. It was like her very presence was attacking him. His voice turned sour as he continued.

"You don't have a right to question, slave. Foreigner. How dare you question Rhysol, in his own temple of all places?" She interjected, and pitched the tone of her voice to match his, low and fervent, "I don't question Rhysol, sir. I am sorry if I offended you, or Rhysol. I just... do not know Ravok's history. Is this truly what happened?" The ravosalaman sat back in his chair, shocked. "You don't even know..." Ssanya shook her head, wondering what the man was going to say next.

"Girl, this is the story of Ravok. Rhysol, and the Voice, created this safe haven after the shock and horrors of the Valterrian. Even you, uncultured as you are, should know about the Valterrian. They developed the Temple, and the city grew around this holy place. Rhysol, as thanks for our respectful worship, protects us from harm, from storms, and from excess disease. From everything that would cause us harm. Where did you come from, child? Some miserable, backward jungle? Some mangy desert? Some dilapidated city where you're scrounging for food and shelter? I know you didn't mean disrespect, but don't ever question Rhysol in front of me again."

WC: 820

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

Ssanya sat in silence next to the man, seriously thinking on his words. Not because of the powers of his persuasion, but because he was not a fanatical outlier. Ssanya hadn't had anyone tell her so directly before, but she had heard similar sentiments in passing when travelling around the city. She was essentially surrounded by people such as this. It was a frightening thought, but she was also glad to have spoken to the ravosalaman, and heard the history of Ravok from a true Ravokian. Every piece of knowledge she gained made her feel stronger. First was the knowledge, uncertain knowledge, but knowledge nonetheless that Ravok was always watching you. Then there was the knowledge of what types of people lived in Ravok. That could help her when she needed to leave. It gave her freedom, in a sense. She knew she couldn't trust anyone and could rely on only herself.

She now also knew for certain that the majority of the city's denizens thought that Rhysol was considered a benevolent and loving god here. It would be well worthwhile to develop her faith, or the appearance of faith, even if it was just a stepping stone to the future. She had no concrete plans yet, only to learn more about the city, its people, and its god. Distantly, she heard the city bell tolling, and realised she had spent too long engrossed in her thoughts, and her discussion with the ravosalaman.

She turned, and stood awkwardly in the aisle. Thinking it best to show proper respect, she bowed her head to the altar, and turned to address the elder. "I will not disrespect Rhysol again. You have my word." The man considered her shrewdly. His blue eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. Finally, he assented. "Good. Now, is the young master wanting us back?"
"Yes, he is."
"Come with me then, girl." He grabbed her arm, and firmly escorted her from the temple. Ssanya had one last glance at the toweringly tall ceiling before the old man had whirled her out of the Temple and into the nearest ravosala to take them back to Davic.

The journey back was equally short as the journey there had been, and Ssanya spent the time silently sitting, staring thoughtfully at the ravosalaman's back. He navigated the canal with ease, and took them back before depositing the hire boat with a companion and stepping back into his own boat. The street was quiet still, with Davic stood in the doorway seemingly trying to extract himself from a discussion with the woman, Flavia. Ssanya smiled, selfishly glad that she was no longer someone who had to deal with people like that. She was quite glad in a way that she was now a background person.

After a chime or two, Davic finally bade farewell to the woman, and came back to the ravosala. He released a breath at the sight of Ssanya, sitting demurely in the boat, then thrust the plans he'd sketched up angrily into her hands. "Take these, and let's go. I am not staying here any longer!" Ssanya noticed a spot of colour on his cheek, a little red spot of flame on his otherwise pale face. Something had got him infuriated. Ssanya figured it was probably the overbearing personality of Ms Stone. People like her were often too much to handle, even for the most experienced of socialites, and Davic was a rough and ready townsperson, an apprentice at an ironmongers.

They punted back through the city in an uneasy silence. Ssanya was glad to be in the fresh air, as the incense had given her something of a headache forming behind her temples. She leaned down and scooped a handful of lakewater to splash against her face. After not too long, the ravosalaman announced they had arrived back at the forge, and began discussing his price with Davic. Ssanya watched the coins trade hands, and suddenly realised another way she could escape. It was far-fetched, but maybe... maybe she could get the coin to buy herself out of her situation. Then she could leave of her own free will. The idea was enticing, but in practise she despaired. How would she ever earn enough coin to buy herself? She searched her memories, but couldn't even recall how much Thorin had bought her for in the first place.

Casting the idea aside for now, she disembarked the ravosala and without waiting for Davic, walked into the forge to deliver the sketched plans and notes that they had assembled from the morning's activities. Thorin was inside, tending to the fires, so she waited patiently for him to be free before meekly handing the work over. The man grunted as he flicked through. She spotted the appreciation. He obviously thought Davic's work was good, as she did. Whilst his mood seemed good, she braved a question that had been brewing in her mind on the way back.

"Thorin, I would like to make a request. I... would like occasional time to pray. To Rhysol, at... at the Temple. I've found a deeper understanding of him. I am at your command, of course." She breathed the last words, and bowed her head. She was expecting a firm no, and had resolved that this would be the case. To her surprise, the man merely hmmed softly. "Okay, Ssanya. We will arrange when you can go, and how often you can go later, but yes. If you disobey, or if I find you aren't at the Temple, then I will of course recsind any permission, but as long as you do as you've been told, I can't fault you for that. And you have been good, recently."

Thorin turned away, and that was that, conversation over. Ssanya was elated. It was such a small thing, permission to go to the Temple, but it meant free time. Time to herself, time to think, and to scheme. Relief washed over her. Davic came in then, and the brief moment of peace was broken. She got to work, but for the rest of the day her headache was forgotten as she basked in the knowledge she was one step closer to freedom in a convoluted sort of manner.

WC: 1034

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