TW: mention of alcoholism and domestic abuse in the context of getting free.
Nel stops in at the newly rebuilt shrine to Eosphorus in the South Ward near the docks. She smiles and looks with quiet reverence at the tokens left by worshippers in the community.
Along with the broken chains are hellebore flowers and red winter berries—some of the few colorful things that grow this time of year.
There is a sack of potatoes and parsnips, no doubt donated from the produce shop, a bag of flour, and a couple bottles of cooking oil. These aren’t offerings—followers who have extra food sometimes put some here for people in need to take. Nel adds a basket of piroshki.
And there are symbols of broken chains. A half empty bottle of schnapps sits on the shelf. Nel beams in pride. She knows how hard it was for Martin Fischer, one of the dockworkers, to put that bottle there instead of finishing it and work on breaking free from his addiction.
There is a gear there as well. Nel had heard a rumor that a group of workers had sabotaged a machine at one of the factories after the bosses refused to slow down production despite seven workers being injured in two weeks. Apparently they had been true. It was a small way to fight back.
A brass ring sat there too. Nel recalled Mildred Mueller in the square, walking tall as she made her way to the laundry where she worked, no ring on her finger and not coming from the direction of the home where her once-husband had regularly beat her. She’d got free.
Finally her eyes fall on some strips of fabric. They don’t look like much, but they’re what one of the pit fighters used to wrap their hands before a fight. They don’t need them anymore with Fox as the new Blade. Freedom.
Nel takes it all in with reverence and wonder and she prays her thanks to Eosphorus.