Beneath The Mask

Zavine was trapped and had been for longer than she could remember. She felt weightless in her tiny prison, suspended in an oxygen rich water which allowed her tiny form to breathe. Countless cables of red, black and blue protruded from various parts of her suit and the two metallic receptors in her head, leading down into the base of the glass cylinder. The world outside was muted, dulled. She could see the shadowed shape of Gongoru, the alchemist who inherited her from his grandfather. He was shifting back and forth.


“What is he doing? This is not the usual schedule…”

Zavine was curious. If she had to hazard a guess it was early morning, a time that generally involved pain as she was used to power the potions that had been brewing the previous night. Instead, he seemed to be preparing something.

Zavine pressed her palms then forehead against the glass, wanting to get a closer look. The blurs became clearer, he was carrying boxes.

“Packing? Is he going somewhere?”

Gongoru seemed to take notice of her interest and paused. He placed the box he was carrying onto a nearby table, shoving empty glass tubes and beakers to the side in the process. He turned and approached “Curious are we?”

Zavine nodded before tracing the word ‘yes’ against the glass with her index finger for good measure.

The half-elf grinned, his cracked lips stretching from ear to ear. His eyes were lined with dark circles from countless sleepless nights. “My potions are strong, thanks to you, but I still find myself working my delicate fingers to the bone.” He ran his hands through sandy blonde hair, which had been tied back and away from his face. “We have ourselves an exclusive client, I won’t have to work so hard, and do you know what that means for you?”

Zavine shook her head.

“You, my ageless angel, won’t be put under such duress either. Won’t that be a lovely break?”

Zavine furrowed her brows. She didn’t see it as a break, she was still trapped in her lonely and isolated world. A few mornings without the subtle pain of imbuing the potions with her mana was not a comforting thought. What was a comforting thought was the prospect of travel. Travel meant that he’d have to move her, that meant she’d be able to see the sun again. A small smile crept upon her delicate features.

It would be a welcomed change of scenery.

Gongoru turned his back on her, “Oh. Before you get any ideas… “ he paused and glanced over his shoulder, even through the haze of the glass Zavine could see the cold, calculating gaze of her current Master. “You’ll be in a crate the whole time, and posing as my mute daughter. I can’t have them know our little secret.”

Out of Character:

Three Weeks Prior

“Warden, a moment of your time.”

Samantha sighed as she looked at the room that was in the middle of cleaning when she turned. Instead of a random member of the clergy, she was greeted by a man in a hooded robe. She couldn't see much of his face beyond the goatee he kept immaculately trimmed, even as he moved into the room. The Warden tensed up as she wanted to gut the man, but decided to entertain his delusion anyways. Samantha gave him a cautionary look before she sat on her bed and said, “Oh yes, fine, make yourself at home.”

“I see we haven’t met then, I thought you would have recognized me. I am Alexander Memnar, a man of some import to the Dark Family,” the robed man explained.

That, was a name she definitely recognized. Memnar was known for many things, the creation of the ghouls that had caught her when the Night of Debauchery hit amongst them. If there was a single person responsible for her kidnapping, it was this man. Not that she was angry about that anymore. She might have gutted him had this been the beginning of her time amongst the cult, now it was an interesting footnote. She shrugged as she said, “I was given no instruction on how to address you or how you fit in with the Cult. By my best guess, you have the Dark Mother’s ear, so throwing you out for assuming things is a bit beyond my station. What is it you need Devil Dog?”

He grinned at the use of his nickname. He nodded before he looked about the area, “I am using my influence to have you sent to Alerar. There is an Alchemist by the name of Gongoru there. He seems to have found a way to make his elixirs stretch further, and I’m interested in acquiring it. He believes we’re bringing him to the Mansion in order to bring him into the Cult…”

“You don’t want him to reach Corone alive, do you?” She read between the lines, knowing exactly what was about to be asked.

“If he were to fall, well it would be quite tragic. Of course his equipment would then fall to us to redistribute…” He mused.

Samantha nodded as she tossed her sword next to her dagger belt and began preparing to leave. She looked at him before she spoke, “Who is my watcher on this one?”

“No one, I think it would be best if the Daughter of the Demon was given free reign on this one. If things should go sour and it become public, you merely present as another monster in a line of them. If it is successful, well, your continued usefulness to the Cult will be appreciated as well,” He explained as he turned to go. It was frustrating to see the man acting so smug, but really she had no choice but to let him act this way. Pissing off the Cults main ally was a guaranteed visit from the Dark Family, and three of them already made their disdain for her known. The last time Jeb had come she had spent a month with a broken leg.

She was also given freedom, and she was not going to waste the opportunity to prove she didn’t need watchers. If she could do this task, she would be free of oversight, she could actually get shit done without wondering who’s toes she was treading on. It would be a welcome change.

Memnar stopped at the door before he spoke, “Your boat leaves in three days. Get moving Warden.”

~*~

The wagon approached the small town in Alerar. Getting so many armed men through the port had been a problem, but luckily it was lessened by Memnar’s foresight. He had distributed the cultists amongst a few ships heading for Alerar, so as to lower suspicions. They’d all return on the same ship, but getting in the country would be harder than getting out, especially with the violent reputations of a few of her flock.

Samantha took a bite of her apple boredly as the men moved the wagon, bringing it to a halt outside the Alchemist’s shop. She looked at the gang of men and muttered about beggars and choosers before she spoke up, “Alright. Clear the wax from your ears because I don’t want any mistakes. If he tells you to do something a certain way, I don’t want any arguments you do it that way. I don’t want any of his equipment broken. Anyone I catch slacking volunteers to be Memnar’s next test subject, am I clear?”

The men looked nervously amongst each other before she gestured to the shop, “Alright, let's go. Best behavior gentlemen.” She caught a few mutterings and let them slide. She didn’t have to prove she was their leader, they knew it. They were grousing to get it out of their system. However, she also knew words of treason when she heard them, and she had a knife ready the second that shit started up.

Darkness

Her world was now darkness, boarded up in a wooden crate to hide her away from the world. She saw nothing of the outside world, and the outside world would see nothing of her, barring the soft light her being gave off within her cylindrical prison.

Zavine shivered and wrapped her arms around her body, forcing her eyes tight shut. She hated the darkness, it was far too quiet and lonely. Normally she had the stars, or the dim light of the moon shining down on her from the small basement window. That was bearable, this was not.

“They’re here.” Gongoru said with a delighted tone and clap of his hands. There were sounds of a shuffle before silence engulfed the room.

***

Gongoru straightened his jacket, a deep emerald colour and flattened his shirt. These were elite clients, and appearances were important. He ensured his hair was neatly tied back before opening the door to his store, “Ah. You must be my clients.” He gave a sweeping bow toward Samantha, and the others. “It is a pleasure to meet you, I am Gongoru,”

“I am Samantha. I believe you were talking with Mr. Memnar though and he does send his regards. I’m here to help you move shop, and these men will listen to all instructions you have,” She said as she looked pointedly at a couple of the men who had been muttering.

Gongoru glanced over her, then her men, taking note of her striking white hair. “Ah. Of course.” He gave his hands two sharp claps. “Come, come. The boxes are all neatly packed and ready to go, ah but do be careful with the large wooden crate. If you try to peer into it, I am afraid our agreement is nullified.”

Samantha gestured to the men who began carefully taking the crates, “Of course. We are heading for Etheria port and will be leaving as soon as we reach harbor. Is there anything else you need?”

Gongoru watched as the men began their work, loading the wooden cart with his belongings. They worked fast, soon, all that was left was Zavine. “Mmm…” His concentration was on the large crate, watching as the men struggled to load it onto the cart. “Cover that thing with a tarp, the inside contents are light sensitive.”

Samantha grabbed the tarp herself and carefully placed it over the crate. Tying it down she looked at the men, “You head on to Etheria port. Take care of any trouble on the roads. I’ll guard our new business partner.”

Gongoro watched as the cart pulled away with the men. He felt uneasy. “Look, girlie, that is my livelihood, can you trust your men with that?” He glanced over at her with a small frown. “Is your superior alright with such a decision? I’d rather stay with the cart.” He began as he started to walk closely behind it.

“I trust them to not want to anger Mr. Memnar. Beyond that I would say they’re the most untrustworthy bunch I’ve met yet. Fear will keep them in line,” Samantha replied warmly clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Right….” Gongoru muttered, not entirely happy with the outcome. “Let’s go then.” He slowed his pace to match hers. “Samantha was it, why choose to walk behind the cargo? Would it not be more beneficial to travel with it?” His eyes narrowed, quickly catching on. “Unless you wanted something more from me that the others are not to know about?”

She gave him a coy smile before she said softly, “I’m a gift.” She let out a soft girlish giggle.

“A..A gift huh?” Gongoru quickly adjusted the belt on his pants as his mind began to wander. His eyes landed on her leather pants as they slowly travelled from her legs to her torso, to her eyes. “Careful with that, most men would get the wrong idea.” He muttered, shoving his hands in his pocket. He had to focus on his client, not some waif.

“Isn’t that half the fun of it?” She sassed as she moved beside him. She made sure to stretch as she did so, letting her womanly curves become more pronounced against her chain shirt.

Gongoru laughed nervously, trying to avert his eyes. “That’s dangerous words miss… “ There was another giggle as Samantha wrapped her arms around his, pulling him closer to her. Gongoru’s elbow pressed hard against her breast. He stopped, turning his gaze back to her. “Are you… “ He paused, unsure if he should ask. “An escort? If so, why would he send you? To entertain me? Keep me in his pocket?”

“I have many skills,” She replied a gleam in her eyes as she looked into his, “Alex trusted me with this task, said it would suit me perfectly...who am I to question a know it all like him?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper with Gonguro the sole recipient of the last few words.


“In that case…” Gongoru turned toward her, lightly grasping her chin, “who am I to deny such generosity?” He leaned in to press his lips against hers.

***

Zavine could tell they were moving, she could hear the faint mutter of voices, but beyond that she was shrouded in an unbearable darkness. She kept her eyes shut fast, allowing herself to fall into her memories, it was what kept her sane. Recalling the faint smell of loamy earth, the soft green grass. The vibrant flowers… she longed for such things.

She knew a leche when she saw one. Gods did she wish he was actually capable of keeping it in his pants. She let him kiss her as they continued to leave the town. He said something, she didn’t need to hear it, it was all dick talk at this point. She giggled, figuring it was some stupid double entendre meant to dazzle her with his wit.

He grasped for her chest and she let him. It was beneath her to act this way, but she needed to get him further down the road. He seemed more pliant when he wasn't using his brain, as they moved farther from town. The lie had been easy enough to sell, though really she didn't look the part of a whore. Ganguro must have been particularly stupid to fall for this line, and if that was the case better to kill him and not let that stupidity into the Cult. She curled into him and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you wanna have a little fun before we leave?”

Her eyes flashed a dangerous pink as the magic gripped Ganguro. He seemed to frown at those words before a knife stabbed him in the gut. The mage shuddered as she gently pushed him off the road and stabbed him again, “Yeah, I thought so. You guys are so tough when it comes to pain, pleasure makes you a mewling wreck.” Her knife sank in a few non-vital areas again and again as he began to bleed profusely and shuddered welcoming each stab.

She kicked him hard in the ribs as he gasped. He looked up at her confused as she spoke, “Oh? Memnar was interested in your work, not you. We only had enough tickets for us.” Dawning seemed to cross his face as he opened his mouth only to receive a punch for his efforts, “No, I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not giving you last words.”

She stepped on his chest as he convulsed and seemed to shudder strongly. Samantha snorted, “Really? Already? Thayne above you’re pathetic…” She ground her boot into his chest some more as he gripped her leg. She reached down and grabbed his ponytail as she jerked his head back. More pain, more pleasure, he had to he hitting his limit. Her knife stabbed up under his chin and straight into his skull before she sighed. Shaking her head she took his purse and satchel, making it look like a robbery. She cleaned her blade on him and moved away from the merchant.

At least she made it pleasurable.

~*~

She would need a bath after putting up with that, she wasn’t sure there was soap that could cleanse her of the disgust she felt. She quickly caught up to the wagon and hopped onto the back as the men looked at her. She met their gaze before she spoke, “Trash is taken care of, stop gawking and move on. It’s not like you stare at each other when you kill someone…”

The men nodded as they moved about the cargo. Some peeked inside crates, and when one of the men reached for the tarp she swatted their hand, “I don’t think he was fully truthful, but better safe than sorry. Wait till we’re on the ship to open this one. Last thing we need is to explain to Memnar why we wrecked his new toy by being so careless. Unless you’re volunteering to suffer the consequences?”

“I’m not that stupid,” was the reply. A few men muttered assent as they continued forward. Samantha finding a few journals of Ganguro’s. One seemed particularly old, and curiosity piqued she grabbed the book and cracked it open. Reading the book as they moved on she let the men look through the rest of the gear.

It spoke of an ancient race, of kidnapping one and studying it. It went on describing one that looked like a young woman, used as a test subject of various experiments. Samantha frowned hearing the words as she snapped it shut and shrugged. It seemed like a fairy tale and she wasn’t interested in them, she had to deal with her own hellish existence without worrying about something else’s.

They continued their march to the port, hoping to get on the ship and be heading home shortly. She just wanted to be free of this job and the eyes on her. At least she was given cultists with half a brain, that made the job immensely smoother.

Zavine wasn’t sure how much time had passed, time for her was always a struggle to comprehend. Days, months, years, centuries, they all blended into the one experience for her. There were a series of shouts and loud noises, followed by the sounds of groaning wood.

“What is going on?”

Zavine had to shield her eyes at the sudden influx of light. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, and when they did they saw something she was not expecting. A young woman with an appearance strikingly similar to her own. Zavine was unable to make out the details, but she saw long flowing white hair and eyes the colour of storm clouds. The girl stared at her with as much confusion as Zavine felt. Did that much time pass? So much so that Gongoru had passed her onto someone else?

Zavine pressed her fingers against the glass writing the words in tradespeak, a language she knew to be common. ‘Who are you? Are you my new owner?’

“You’re alive? Do you need water to breathe?” The white haired girl looked to someone beyond her sight and mentioned a club.

Zavine frowned and shook her head, she didn’t get her answer in the way she expected. The woman didn’t know she was alive, so it was clear that she didn’t know about her abilities, so if she didn’t inherit her, did this woman steal Gongoro’s possessions?

Zavine pointed to the tubes and wires that connected her body to the canister, then wrote the word ‘battery’ against the glass, hoping the girl understood.

“Crap this thing runs out of power she’s toast, Someone get pry bars, let’s get her out of there…” The white haired woman said immediately assuming the worst. Shadows moved to pry open the container as the white haired woman watched.

Zavine panicked, she couldn’t recall the last time the device opened, had it been one hundred years? Two hundred? The girl had completely misinterpreted her. Zavine wildly shook her head to and fro, trying to get them to stop. Zavine covered her ears as the glass began to vibrate and crack with each hit of the various clubs.

SMASH

Suddenly, the glass broke, there was a crackle as a large burst of pure energy rocked the room, knocking over people, crates and splintering wood. Zavine crumpled into a heap, small lines of red traced her body where the glass had cut her. Zavine struggled to lift herself to a seated position. She felt ill, and threw up the liquid she had been breathing for years. Coughing and spluttering Zavine sat straight, staring at her shaking hands.

She had been freed.

“W-why…?” Her voice was hoarse, and cracked. Zavine could barely speak above a whisper, even so she spoke with an accent that one would struggle to place, her words almost spoken in song. “Why did you break it?”

The white haired woman looked at the others before she spat, “Get above decks, I’ll clean this up.” She then moved Zavine who sat in the remnants of the tank as she knelt at her side, “You usually thank someone for freeing you, or did you want to live in a tube for thayne know how long?”

Zavine furrowed her brow, how long had it been? She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak but instead of words, more bile was violently expelled from her chapped lips. Her body shook and she fell forward into the mess of cables, liquids,glass, and bodily fluids that had pooled around her. She rose a shaky hand, realizing the cables were still attached to her body, through the suit. Zavine rose her cerulean gaze to meet the stormy clouds of the crass woman before her. They still held the same burning question ‘Why?’ Instead of speaking, Zavine let out a shivered sigh, closing her eyes. The air was cold and lingered with the smell of salt and wet wood. Am I… on a ship? I’ve always wanted to see what one was like.

“H.heh..” She managed.

Samantha gently ran her hand along the girl’s back, “Whoa there, take it easy, you've been in that tank a while, get used to air before you worry about anything else.”
Zavine knew the girl was right, but it didn’t stop the questions that burned in her mind, what happened to Gongoru? If she were here, Zavine had to take a guess that he had been killed. Even though he was her captor, she felt bad. She didn’t like the thought of unnecessary death.

Zavine went to stand, but her legs buckled underneath her, and she collapsed back down into the pile of cables and cords that were still attached to her. Zavine winced, and gingerly began to pull them away from her suit. Flinching every time, leaving trails of blood where they were once imbedded into her skin.

Samantha gently helped her unhook from the machine, and frowned seeing the blood. It wasn't that she was squeamish about blood, after all she had been forced to watch Jeb do her job until she got over it. Seeing a girl in this shape made her mad, reminded her of her own inadequacies. She gently lifted the girl and set her down in the pod, “Rest here, I gotta clean up this mess. Alright?”

The woman nodded, her eyes darted to Samantha’s cheek. She reached out with a shaking hand which Sam flinched away from, unsure what the girl was about to do. For a brief moment fear showed on the Warden's face. It was quickly shoved behind a mask as she let the girl reach for her.

The white haired woman paused, then mouthed words that Samantha read as ‘It is ok’ before pressing her fingertips lightly to a wound Samantha didn’t realise she had. Her skin prickled at the contact, then a soft golden glow erupted from her fingertips. The feeling was a gentle warmth. Samantha remembered Red's healing worked much the same way. The woman pulled away, a look of concern on her features.

“You aren't human, are you?” Samantha asked, gently feeling where the girl’s finger had passed. The girl shook her head. Grey eyes met cerulean, “You weren't saying the tank was on a battery, you meant you…” Samantha swore as she stood up and walked over the broken glass. This was what Memnar wanted, this girl was somehow the key to empowering magic and potions.

She grabbed a bucket bringing it over to the mess as she looked up at the girl, “For now, when you can talk I would suggest you keep that quiet. I have to think now, because this is going to complicate things…” She picked up shards of the glass and tossed them in the bucket. A sigh left her lips as she looked up, “I am so in trouble.”

She continued to clean up the glass occasionally looking at the not human girl. She was torn, the girl was nothing to her, or rather she should be. Could she sacrifice someone else for her freedom? Was she so callous that another person's happiness meant nothing? Samantha wasn't comfortable with that line of questioning. It involved her actually making a decision, and every time she had done that she had suffered.

She looked at the girl studying her for awhile before she picked up the bucket. She moved over to the girl and sighed, setting the bucket on the ground before she crouched, “You're staying with me. For now at least, by the time we reach port I should have a decision. Got a name?”

“Z-Zavine.” The girl was clearly struggling with her new surroundings yet she still managed to collect the debris around her, placing it in a neat pile in an effort to help. Samantha carefully gathered the pieces and put them in the bucket. She looked at the girl for a while and nodded.

“Alright, Zavine. It's a start, I think you're gonna have to stay in my cabin for now. Knowing my luck it's a little bigger than everyone else’s but not by much. You hungry?” She didn't know why she was acting this way. Something though, it made her want to protect this girl.

Zavine gave her a curious look at her question, she lifted her hand to her stomach then lowered her head as though she were deep in thought. After a few minutes of silence, the woman slowly shook her head.

Samantha wasn't sure about her feelings. The last time she had been the conflicted was with Scarlet, and then it was because she felt like her thoughts were clear for once. In one of the few times she had learned from her father he told her to trust her gut, that it was wisdom she didn't understand. The thoughts of her Father stirred up some anger. Standing she slammed a fist against the side finger crate before she relaxed and shook her head, banishing the thoughts for another day. Now wasn't the time for frivolous thoughts.

Taking a steadying breath she leaned down to grab Zavine, “Let's go, my cabin. You've had quite the day.” She stumbled as she was pulled upward, she made a few sounds of protest, but followed, albeit stumbling along the way. Samantha put Zavine's arm over her shoulder to support the girl. Moving through the ship passageways and reached the door to her cabin. She gently placed Zavine's down and opened the door before she picked the girl up and carried her into the cabin.

Zavine was unceremoniously thrown onto the bed. Hard by most standards, but to her, it was a soft and plush wonder. Zavine quickly righted herself, then covered her mouth afraid she’d throw up again from the swaying feeling of vertigo. She sat perfectly still as she waited for the feeling to pass. Once it had, Zavine gave a sigh of relief. She relaxed into the bedding, her fingers grazed over the scratchy red blanket, tufts of fuzz and fur tickled her fingertips.

Zavine shifted her gaze to the cabin, she didn’t understand why the woman said it was small. It was, at least in Zavines experience, enormous. It’s walls had peeling wallpaper with faded and yellowed floral print, and there were dried flowers in a vase on a small, scratched night stand next to the bed. Zavine reached out to the flowers, it had been so long since she had been in contact with anything of the sort.

They crumbled at her touch and Zavine felt crestfallen, her eyes fell to the floor. She knew the other girl meant well, but all Zavine wanted was to return home. All these strange rules and requests. None of it made sense.

The white haired girl sat heavily on a chair before she began rifling through a rucksack. She seemed determined to find something but sighed as she looked at Zavine, “Sorry, I don't have anything that would fit you.”

“I d-don’t-” Zavine coughed, her throat still hoarse, talking would prove to be difficult. The woman seemed to be astute, so Zavine pointed toward the rucksack, then to her own outfit and gestured that she was alright with wearing what she had. Zavine then pointed toward herself, then to the woman in hopes that she would get a name from her.

The white haired woman frowned for a bit before she mimicked the gesture a few times. Finally her face lit up as she said, “Samantha, Samantha Ambria.”

Zavine smiled, she had a name. “N-nice to meet you.” Next, she gestured as though she were writing something. Pen and paper, if talking were taking a toll on her. “W-write?”

Samantha frowned inventor before she rifled through the cabin. Finally she found paper and suspenders pencil. She offered them over to Zavine, “Sorry, don't usually write things down, safer for me.”

Zavine took the paper and carefully pushed the vase to the edge of the side table, with a shaky hand she began to write, at first the writing came out in looped circles. She frowned. Having realized she had written in her native language, she put a shaky line through it and wrote in trade speak, her handwriting was atrocious and her hands still shook but it was the best she could do so far. Her first sentence was a statement, despite the burning amount of questions she had. ‘I waz batteree. pOwerd poshuns. Passd down for manee yeerz.” Zavine pointed to the writing once she had finished.

“Yeah, I figured,” Samantha replied. She shook her head, “Second you told me you weren't human I realized it.”

Zavine frowned, she wasn’t sure how to respond to the statement. She stared at the paper with her scrawlings on it. There were so many questions she had but the paper only had so much space. As if reading her mind Samantha spoke up, “Gonguro is dead. What's complicated things is figuring out what to do with you. I belong to a group of people that would benefit from using you as a mana battery, but I'm not sure if I could let them…”

As Samantha spoke Zavine began to write, her questions coming in fast and furious. It’d be a wonder if her new found friend could read it at all. ‘Keeling rong. Y yoo wif them? Yoo gud. I thank yoo. In det to yoo. Can eye help?’

“I'm a prisoner. I work for them so my cell is a little nicer, but until the Dark Mother takes her place as a God, I can't leave. I'm the one that killed Ganguro, he paid for his crimes before he passed, don't worry bout that…” her tone went softer as she looked down, “Don't worry ‘bout me, no one else does.”

“N-not true.” Zavine said, pain evident in her voice as she stared Samantha down. Zavine refused to believe that no one cared about the woman who had been so kind to her. “S-She does not sound like a real God.” Zavine gasped, she knew she shouldn’t be talking but she wouldn’t be able to write the words she wanted to say, nor would they convey how she felt. Zavine shook her head, feeling a great sadness for the woman. “Why do you n-not leave here? Why-” Zavine trailed off as a series of coughs racked her body, blood splattered across the paper before she covered her mouth, muffling the sound.

“Sinspawn,” Samantha cursed as she gently ran her hand up and down the girls back, “You wanna kill yourself? Take it easy, we’re done for today. Just rest, I'll find paper for you tomorrow…”

Zavine ever obstinate, shook her head, pulling the paper toward her she wrote in large letters, underlined. ‘ANSER PLEEZ’

Sam looked down and sighed, “If I try, they'll kill me. This ship is theirs. I wouldn't even get out of Radasanth before I'd be caught and killed.”

Zavine let the pencil drop, it clattered to the side table and fell to the floor, rolling down to the other end of the room where it gently began to bump the edge of the wall with the sway of the boat. “But you are unhappy…” Zavine murmured. She wasn’t sure how to change that for Samantha, she still had so many more questions for her. “I do not und-understand.”

“People are shit Zavine, for every decent man, there are a hundred plotting his downfall. Society is a joke, the punchline is that everyone knows it and agrees to keep it going. I may be a hostage, but I'd rather live, than die for my Father's sins. I've paid enough for them already, I don't want to anymore,” Samantha said softly. She stood up and sighed as she pulled off her chain shirt and rolled it up, slamming it on the desk in her cabin. Her hand rested on the shirt for awhile before her shoulders hunched and she remained silent.

Zavine pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, was she meant to remove her clothes too? Humans, they slept naked? Silently, Zavine fumbled with the zip on the front of her bodysuit. Her hands trembled . Can this come off? Will it hurt? She forced her eyes shut and took a deep breath before ripping the zip down. Sh waited, waited for pain, waited for an electric shock, for burning but there was nothing.

Slowly, she opened one eye, then the other. Looking down she could see the holes in her body where the cables were generally pressed into her flesh. Tiny metallic receptors imbedded into her skin. Zavine gave a sigh of relief.

Samantha turned and went wide eyed, drinking in the sight of the girl before she moved over, “Oh, no, I was just taking off my armor. You don't need to strip!”

Zavine gave Samantha a questioning look, a part of her felt relieved to have removed the suit in part. It had fallen off her shoulders and sat crumpled at her elbows and hips. Samantha looked down at her before she shrugged, “Guess it's too late to go back now. Let's get it off, I'll see if I have a shirt you could wear to sleep in meanwhile…”

Feeling relieved Zavine squirmed out the suit with a great deal of effort, it tugged and pulled on some of her receptors, which hurt, but it was freeing. Zavine stood naked in the room, unashamed and unabashed. Her people rarely wore clothes, they were a human construct. There was a chill to the air but it wasn’t unwelcomed. Everything was like she was living it all anew. The creaking wood, the salt, the faint smell of mildew… everything. A tiny smile graced her lips.

I am truly thankful for this.

She seemed happy, at least Samantha liked to think she was. Somehow the less she wore the happier she was. Ignoring the naked girl in her room Samantha placed her sword next to the chain shirt and pulled on a button up shirt. Sam gave the girl a look, “I'll be right back. Just relax, don't leave. I'll get a bucket and some water to wash you off with. Okay?”

Zavine nodded, sitting back down on the bed, she fumbled with her ashen hair, eyes never once leaving Samantha. The Daughter of the Demon felt put off by the act, and quickly left moving down the passageways. Her pace was quick as one of the members who help transport Zavine placed a hand in her way and spoke, “Moment Warden?”

Irritation flooded her lithe frame, while she glowered at the man, “Well if you insist?”

“Thank you Warden,” A grin slashed his mouth, “What's gonna happen to the girl?”

“None of your business,” Samantha replied her cheeks flushing in anger as her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well me and the guys thought-”

“Yes, I know what you guys were thinking. It doesn't take a Psion to know what you fucks are thinking. It's not going to happen, she's to be kept safe as the equipment in the ship's hold. If I catch any of you so much as thinking of touching her I'll make you an eunuch faster than you'd blow your load on it, am I clear?”

“But Warden-”

Samantha had enough. Her knee went up hitting the main square in the groin before a dagger was pulled and held to the man’s throat. As he recovered from the cheap blow Samantha hissed, “Test my patience again and I will give you the Dark Mother’s forgiveness am I clear?”

The man seemed like he was trying not to wretch from the pain before he nodded dumbly. Samantha gently drew the blade across his face and spoke, “This is your one warning. Next time I have to deal with you, I will kill you.”

“Y-yes Warden,” the man managed. She slammed his head against the side of the ship before she wiped the blade on his shirt. He gently wiped the blood from his cheek as she felt the wound that would become a scar. She pushed off the man and continued to walk down the passageway, gathering a few clean looking rags and a bucket of clean water. Returning the the room she felt she managed to get her emotions back under control before she entered the room and swiftly shut the door behind her.

She gave Zavine a smile as she spoke, “Let's get you cleaned up.”

Zavine rubbed her throat, before trying to speak. “I heard s-shouting.”

“Disagreement, it's been dealt with, won't happen again,” her hand waved of any future questions on the matter hopefully as she dropped a cloth in the bucket, “Let's clean you up.” Zavine nodded, and was complacent, but still appeared to be bothered by the disagreement.

Samantha was thankful Zavine hadn't seen fit to challenge her on it. Instead she carefully washed the girl, remembering her lessons from washing Aerith that year ago. Now she wasn't shackled to Aerith wheelchair, instead she was free of a sort. The cage was bigger, but the bars remained the same. It was odd to think of it in such terms, but she didn't shy from the familiar thoughts.

It wasn't until she moved to clean under Zavine's breast that she noticed anything beyond the nodes. Almost like a Tattoo a symbol was imprinted in her flesh. Gently she washed it to see if anything came off and seeing nothing she frowned, “Is this a slave tattoo? Usually those are more apparent, they want people to know about them…”

Zavine glanced down, her fingers danced over the intricate mark. “Birthmark.” She murmured, keeping her words to a minimum. “We all have them.” The water was cold and Zavine wasn’t sure why Samantha insisted on cleaning her up, still, she allowed the other woman to slowly work. If she had her strength and the full use of her voice she’d be more vocal about it. Instead, Zavine shifted her gaze upward, toward the closed door.

Samantha noticed the gaze before she spoke, “The downside to the Cult is that some of the men believe they are the Dark Mother’s gift to women. You can imagine how long it took them to learn that the Warden was not someone to mess with. I’m protecting you from their jeering.”

Zavine scrunched her face, she wasn’t familiar with the terminology. Jeering? Was that a weapon, or something that only men did? It seemed like this cult had many downsides. “What upsides d-does staying here have?” Zavine asked, her eyes still set on the door.

Sam remained resolutely silent for a moment before she tossed the rag into the bucket and looked at Zavine, “Do you always act like this? I’m trying to make the best of this situation, I really am. I don’t have a choice, you know that. If the world is going to shit on me, I might was well figure out how to shield myself as best I can.”

“There’s always a choice.” Zavine said as her eyes turned to the bucket. She knew there were times where it seemed like there was no choice. Trapped al those years, often times Zavine felt she had no choice. But there were still some to be made. She could have fallen to despair, or madness, but she chose to instead reminisce about the past and hold onto that hope.

“Yeah, you’re right, I could jump off the side of the ship and hope Am’aleh will save my stupid ass,” She muttered as she grabbed a clean towel and went back to washing Zavine as she shook her head, “Wishing for an option that doesn’t involve suicide won't make it appear. I just have to bide my time, or figure out how to make them free me. Maybe if I get my hands dirty enough...maybe they’ll just leave me alone…”

Zavine wasn’t sure what caused Samantha to be so downtrodden, yet so strong. She looked like a turbulent and angry force that should not be reckoned with. Yet she still held such an admirable quality. Instead of reasoning with Samantha with words, Zavine reached out and rested a gentle hand on her head, she allowed her fingers to gently entwine with her hair. Zavine wanted to comfort Samantha.

Samantha jerked her head back as she scrambled away from Zavine nearly knocking over the bucket. Her hand went to a dagger on her belt as she got it half out of her belt, her chest heaving at the rote reaction, her eyes went wild with fear. She closed them, forcing the half drawn dagger back into its sheath and muttered something to herself before she said softly, “I’m...a little sensitive to people touching my hair, I’m sorry.”

Zavine frowned at the reaction. She shuffled onto the bed and bought her knees to her exposed chest, resting her chin upon them. Zavine remained silent as she observed Samantha, who was recovering from her sudden fear fueled outburst. A silence filled the room as no words were exchanged between the two. Samantha headed to the bucket and stared at it’s contents muttering something about what had spilled on the floor and how Zavine was clean enough by now.

Zavine decided she wanted to help the other woman, Samantha had helped her and she was clearly in dire need of aid herself. She was at her limits, even Zavine could see that. But how? How was Zavine to help her?

Samantha looked at the girl before she said softly, “You should rest. I’m going to see if I can get something to eat from the galley. Get your strength back Zavine, I...need to think.”

Zavine nodded and watched as Samantha gave another sigh leaving the room. Now she was alone, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. Zavine slipped off the bed and picked up her clothes. Zavine stared at them. Where am I supposed to put these? Zavine lightly padded around the room for a few rotations before balling them up and placing them in the corner, next to the bucket. She was told to rest, but she didn’t need to sleep, or eat. The best way for her to regain her energy would be to surround herself with greenery, but there was none here.

Zavine shivered. The cold began to cling to her skin, raising goosebumps on her form. Zavine picked up the blanket and with a sharp tug, pulled it off the bed. She draped it around herself and headed to the door, opening it a few inches to peer outside. She wouldn’t leave the room, but she could at least see what was around the immediate vicinity.

There wasn’t much to it, a dark hallway with flickering lights on either side. Just as she was about to shut the door she heard the soft clank of iron boots against wooden floors echoed in the distance. Zavine watched as a figure rounded the corner. It was a tall man adorned in dark and dirtied armour, his scruffy hair framed a scarred face. Zavine pursed her lips, the man met her gaze but instead of interacting with him she shut the door with a gentle click.

Interacting with him would not help Samantha. The woman may not like it, but Zavine wondered if she should go over her head, and find the person in charge and reason with them.

She bit into the apple mindlessly, wiping her lips softly as she pondered the problem. The girl was her biggest weakness. The only thing holding her back from being free was her conscience, but to sacrifice a girl for her happiness? Could she do this? Part of her screamed that she deserved to be happy for once, and that the girl was nothing before that. With another absent minded bite she shook her head and sighed. What could she do?

If she didn’t hand over Zavine, she was asking to get the crap kicked out of her by Jeb. The offense would be failing, and pissing off Memnar. Failure wasn’t acceptable, and the price of failure was pain. That was how the Cult worked, you either succeeded and got stronger, or you failed and suffered the consequences. There was many a time Jeb had insisted they kill her, that she was useless. There was a time that Samantha was sure Jeb had forgotten her name, so often he had referred to her as a cunt.

Aerith always argued on her behalf. Pointing out where she had some success, of course Draug would mention almost succeeding only counted with explosives and fireballs. Where accuracy didn’t matter, only volume. Catherine would say that they should have killed Samantha in front of her father and been done with it. That the Crimson Angel was a match for the Lavinian Demon, and that there was nothing to fear of Seth. Draug would agree and insist that killing her might make Seth actually become a decent opponent for him, that was, until Seth nearly killed Draug.

She was lucky Aerith put her foot down and rescued her, Draug was ready to take his frustrations out on any member of the Dahlios bloodline.

Still, this would be betraying Aerith, the only member of the Dark Family that had argued for her. She would be failing the Dark Family and alienating an ally. The punishment for that, she knew there were fates worse than death, she was living one. She shook her head and rose up biting into her apple again as she moved down the halls of the ship. She couldn’t betray Aerith, not like this, not so succinctly. It was one thing to accidentally destroy the battery, another to willingly make it useless for their Ally. Memnar had worked hard to give her freedom on this task. A taste of her reward for accomplishing it.

Her boots moved with purpose as she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. She stopped outside her door and steadied her breath. She could feel the anger and the guilt tearing through her. Her heart telling her not to do this, that if she made this sacrifice, if she took this step, there was no return. She gently pushed open the door looking for Zavine before moving inside the room and frowning, remembering something.

“W-what is wrong?” Her sing-song voice broke the silence, her question soaked with tones of concern.

“You said all your kind have a birthmark, what kind is that?” She pushed the door shut behind her as she crossed her arms leaning against the door and looking at the not quite human girl.

“Ar’Tuel. W-why?”

“I can’t do it…” She said out loud as she realized the final piece of the puzzle slid into place. The healing, the care, the concern, the way she seemed to bring out the qualities the Cult was trying to quash. Samantha bit her lip before she looked at Zavine, “I don’t care what the consequences are, I can’t hand you over to them.” Zavine blinked, her wide eyes staring back at Samantha, she felt uncomfortable at the gaze.

She shook her head and took off her dagger belt, setting it on the table with the rest of her gear, “Damn it all to Sintyre…If I could kill my heart this would have been so much easier.”

She leaned against the chair and closed her eyes, her hair forming a curtain from the world as she said softly, “Zavine, I have a friend I want you to meet. If I hand you over to Memnar, if I let him use you as a battery I would have been freer. I wouldn’t have had handlers when I had to leave the Mansion. However, I do that, and you won’t ever see Red, who I think you would be interested in as she says she’s also an Ar’Tuel.”

Zavine felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of another possible Ar’Tuel. She hadn’t heard the name uttered in such a long time, she knew previous owners had sought out others with little luck and Zavine was worried that many of her kind had met a similar fate.

Zavine clutched at the itchy blanket around her shoulders, holding it tighter around her exposed form.

Ar’Tuel? Red doesn’t sound like an Ar’Tuel name. How can she be sure?

“Are y-you sure… she is one?” Zavine asked, feeling skeptical, but at the same time hoping that Samantha was not wrong and that this ‘red’ person really was an Ar’Tuel.

“Red isn’t her name, it’s what her Master calls her,” Samantha replied as she moved the chair sitting in his backwards. Resting her arms on the back and her chin upon the cloth covered arms she met Zavine’s gaze, “She said she was a reincarnation, and she healed me just like you did in the ship's hull. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but then the mark, she has one at the small of her back that’s kinda similar to yours. I don’t know much beyond that, I mean we only just met, I doubt we were gonna just give our deepest darkest secrets to each other.”

Her words made sense, Zavine knew many Ar’Tuel would reincarnate, she would herself if experiments didn’t force her being to become physical. There was so much information to take in. Why would Samantha want her heart to die? Zavine understood it was a metaphorical statement, but to say such a thing? Zavine rubbed her throat, it was slowly feeling better. Should she chance singing? Zavine often found that singing calmed her down, and those around her.

Zavine pushed herself up off the bed and sat down on the ground, resting her back against the chair Samantha sat on. Zavine took a few deep breaths before a soft tune began to fill the room. Starting slow and quiet, interrupted by the odd struggling cough her song rose in volume. A song passed down from the elders, a lullaby, and one of the only ways Zavine felt she could calm Samantha's turbulent heart.

She rose up listening to the song with rapt attention. Her eyes drifted shut to enjoy the melody, her body seeming to relax. Sam felt tears well in her eyes as she was reminded of the times she woke with nightmares when she was younger. Still she kept herself from wallowing in sadness as she listened to the song.

The Warden opened her eyes when she felt she had a feel for the melody and gave Zavine a brave smile, “That was...amazing...you sing well.”

Zavine fell into a fit of coughs, then silence. She tilted her head upward, cerulean eyes ever silently staring at Samantha. There was always a long pause between that gaze and an answer. It disturbed her, but Sam also knew that it wasn't intentional and was probably because of her incarceration.

“I wanted you to feel better.”

She nodded before she said, “Reminded me of the times my mom used to sing me to sleep when I was a child. It was comforting, that was before I had started schooling at temple…”

She looked down, guilt gripping her heart at those words. She hadn’t thought of her birth mother in quite some time. In many ways the Dark Mother had taken her place. Still, the few times her mother had been present in her life had been some of her fondest memories. For the most part Samantha considered her uncle Taviri more a parent than her actual mother. Realizing she was tired she stretched her lithe form and yawned.

“I'm sorry Zavine, I need to sleep. I'm just too tired from today, entirely too many thoughts and emotions flying through my mind…” Samantha said softly. She moved to the bed and sat down heavily next to the girl before she removed her boots and looked over at her roommate, “I didn't even stop to ask, do you even sleep? Red does, but you aren't like Red…”

“I don’t need to, but I can.” Zavine said as she watched Samantha. Zavine headed to the bed, and carefully aided Samantha in tucking her in, removing the blanket from her form. Zavine headed to the corner and picked up her suit and began to wriggle back into it.

Samantha frowned sitting up, “What are you doing?”

“It is cold.” Zavine said, “I contemplated joining you but you do not seem to like physical contact.”

Samantha sighed before she said, “It's not that…” she grasped air trying to explain, “It's just my head and hair...if you just laid beside me it would be different. I promise.”

“If that is what you wish.” Zavine said as she dropped the suit and headed to the bed, crawling into the spare space. Samantha moved to allow her to fit comfortably on the bed. Her arm draped around the Ar’Tuel gently.

“Thank you,” she muttered, looking down on the girl.

Zavine responded in turn, and Samantha found herself cosying up into the crook of the Ar’Tuel’s neck. She gave off an incredibly calming warmth, much like Red, “You are welcome.”

It calmed her anger, it took the sting off her father's betrayal, and the loss of her freedom didn't hurt as bad. Samantha felt a warmth that she needed, as she curled against Zavine's form, almost clinging to her. She realized what was happening and said softly, “Just tell me if I'm getting too handsy.”

The Ar’Tuel gently shook her head. “I like this. I like the warmth, and I enjoy your company. You should rest.” Sam nodded and yawned before she passed out, the emotional rollercoaster finally hitting an end. She relished Zavine's warmth, it was the closest to home she had ever gotten.