Damaged Goods - Part 1

“Come on, Christov.” Deceit growled, pulling her cousin from the second questionable coffee shop of the morning. “I brought you along so you could help do rounds, not so you could give dirty looks to everyone. We’ve still got to get through the Slave Traders’ District.”

Christov grumbled in response, unhappy. Accompanying Deceit was Raven’s job, not his. Unfortunately for him, Raven was away on a trip with his mother, to Gaia’s Healing Gardens. Her health had taken another wrong turn in a series of wrong turns, and Christov had insisted she didn’t go alone- which turned out to be a terrible choice. He was now the lucky one to accompany his rash younger cousin though the Hell District while she shopped for all her illegal needs and performed her duties as an inspector or something for the council. He wasn’t sure of the details, but he still trudged through the gates of the Slaver’s Hollow beside her.

This particular sector of the Black Market was heavily guarded. Most windows and doors were boarded up from disuse or barred against intruders. Everything was drab shades of browns and greens and greys, so something as bright as muddy red stood out like a sore thumb among the stone stairs and traders’ blocks. The turbid color seemed to belong to a girl- a slave, he guessed, by her state of dress.

Her hair, he guessed, was something more akin to a fire when clean. She was staring at him, with eyes both empty and the color of sea glass. A brush of freckles were visible at the distance, though it was more of a guess. The girl was partly enclosed in the shadows of an alleyway, singing a low haunting tune to passerby, a tin for coin not too far away.

Christov threw another curious glance toward the alleyway. Normally, something with such an erratic pulse would be a recent capture, but she didn’t look the part. Likewise, he couldn’t make out an adjacent pulse, signalling a seller. He nudged his cousin’s elbow and nodded in the direction of the Deceit's brows furrowed for a moment, and she nodded. Christov’s silent hunch was correct, she was a human. He stood there for a moment more, debating whether or not to approach the girl. More often than not, humans were... difficult, when faced with people like them. Especially if they originated from the mortal world. He huffed at his cousin, waiting for her to finish her conversation with a regular slave trader. It appeared to end well.

They approached casually, as to not frighten the girl. Newer faces in the hollow gave them a wide berth, but Christov placed the blame on Deceit. Even if he didn’t know exactly what her job was, she spent too much damn time in the surrounding districts to not be recognized. He noted the tightening of her jaw, little details toward her temper that he knew well. She was fixed on the bruising- clear as day- circling the girl’s wrists, neck and ankles. It wasn’t unusual for such harsh conditions, even common. A chain could be made out, still attached to her left wrist, but neither looked hard enough to find an end.

She looked up at the two as they stopped, and smiled at them. “Do you wish to hear more?” A closer inspection revealed she was, in fact, barefoot. An old grain sack had been fashioned into a dress of sorts, without the intention of covering much or flaunting her shape. Christov’s light expression fell into a grim line.

Deceit shrugged, and tossed a loose coin into the tin. It was a ploy, Christov knew. Stopping too long in any one spot could garner attention of the unwanted sort. She didn’t make a move to check the authenticity of the currency, and instead remained leaning against the faded brick. Her voice, at the very least, was smooth like velvet. She sang a tune he recognized, one of a tiny Irish fae caught in a berry bush.

When she finished her song, Christov was the first to speak. “Do you know where you are?”

“‘m ‘fraid not, but I haven’t known where I was for some time.” She didn’t look up at them, nor was she terribly concerned about who was nearby. It was rather unusual for such a slave, especially a young girl, to react in such a way. Unnatural, even.

“Is there someone near that you recognize?”

“‘m ‘fraid not...” She shook her head lightly, not even bothering to look around. His cousin had taken on a darker expression, and he feared whatever knowledge she could dredge up from the girl. Deceit stepped forward and grabbed the girl’s left wrist with a gloved hand. She wasn’t unkind, but the child still made the slight motion of silencing a flinch. Her bruises were too many to count, around the chain and farther up her arm.

Christov was willing to bet more than a fair share of them had been caused by her handlers, whoever they may have been. He turned around to keep an eye on their surroundings while Deceit busied herself with doing something mildly illegal, like breaking a slaver’s chain without consent or proof of purchase. It was doubtful the slaver in question was still on this side of the living, after all. Many were far too greedy to leave product, even one in such a state.

“What is it that y’re doing, if I may ask...” The girl’s voice was quiet, but Christov could hear the huff Deceit gave her in place of a response. There was a clanking noise as the chain untangled itself from whatever in the alley had caught it. A similar sound echoed as his cousin broke the offensive bangle from the girl’s wrist.

The redhead stood up, testing the new freedom to her wrist carefully. She did not try to run. Deceit sighed and looked to him. He shrugged, unsure of exactly what to do with her himself. They couldn’t just leave her here.

Well, they could. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to feel good about it. At this point, it was safe to assume Deceit was on the same page. Maybe. He was never quite sure.

“I didn’t see anyone, so it’s not like we can pay for her.” Christov finally voiced. The girl flinched, for one reason or another. He glanced at her ankles, double checking to make sure none of the area vermin had taken an interest. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t have been difficult to subdue.

“I wish I knew who to tell you about that...” The girl spoke up, but was promptly ignored.

“If we don’t pay for her, I’m going to have hell hounds at my front door within the hour.” Deceit gave him a dirty look he wasn’t quite sure he had earned. The girl had begun humming to herself, shifting her weight from one side to the next. The ground was uneven, and littered with various tiny debris he was pretty sure she shouldn’t have been barefoot on.

“We could ask Bones about it. He’s supposed to keep records of things like this.” Deceit seemed to think about this for a moment, before nodding in what he hoped to be approval. She pivoted on her heel and headed towards the inner part of the district, probably assuming he’d catch up.

With only a slight thought in the direction of morals, Christov lifted the girl and slung her over his shoulder much like a bag of potatoes. A very light bag of potatoes. He jogged to catch up with his much shorter cousin.

“I have legs, but I have a feeling y’re ignoring this statement...” She said softly. He realized no one had bothered to ask for her name- if she even had one.

She probably had one, but still.

“If we don’t treat you like property, we’ll all be in trouble.” He explained, but didn’t venture more information than that. The truth was more along the lines of how they would be dealt with once someone discovered they were rescuing instead of utilizing the girl. Such actions were not taken lightly.

“Bones,” Deceit growled, a harsh sort of sound against the faded stall walls. A deformed troll stepped forward, his yellow eyes squinting in the low light.

“Ah, Deceit, s’ nice to see a daughter of Caine in such good health-” He heard his cousin tap her foot impatiently. The girl on his shoulder shuttered. “Wh-what can I help y’ with?” Christov could almost place a sliver of fear in the grittiness of his voice.

Wimp.

The girl on his shoulder stilled. She kept quiet, thankfully. He doubted she knew what was going on.

“I need the records on this girl.” Deceit gestured behind her, impatiently. Christov rolled his shoulders. Bones jumped on the task quickly, probably wanting to get rid of Deceit as quickly as possible.

“A bag ‘f rubies ‘ll suffice. She’s a fresh catch ‘nd calm to boot. Woulda fetch’d a large bounty at auction.” Neither of them commented on the troll’s obvious lie. His cousin produced a pouch before he could even think to, and threw it at the troll before turning heel towards the gate. He followed suit, not wanting to be present while the troll verified.

Once outside the slavers’ gates, Christov set the girl down. He was pretty sure she wasn’t a day over seventeen at best, and even that was pushing it. Deceit finally put words together about her state of dress, and he shed his jacket to drape around the girls’ tiny frame.

“She’ll need clothes, food.” He remarked, his hand still on her shoulder.

“Mmmm?” The girl made a noise, velvety and smooth. She didn’t appear to be keeping up with more than keywords in their conversation, and Christov immediately wrote it off to some possible language barrier.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Deceit asked rather quickly. If Christov didn’t know better, he’d have said she looked concerned. The expression didn’t mesh well with the scars and tattoos on the little skin that was visible.

“‘m unsure.” She replied.

Deceit huffed. “Probably a memory charm,” she gave him a look between exhaustion and irritation. “I dunno if her scent will cause trouble.”

“Mmm, my scent?” Perhaps she was just fatigued from lack of nutrients, he amended.

“You’re a human,” she informed the girl, before looking back to him. “Inteachan Ardaigh is empty for the year. Can you handle it?”

Translation: I am tired and I do not have the energy to answer human questions, and Merci will kill her. She’s your problem.

Christov was pretty sure that was absolutely right on the mark.

“For awhile, I suppose. It’s fully stocked, yes?” He waited until she nodded. “I’ll take her, then. I suppose you’ll be returning to the Inn?” She nodded again.

“I’ve got a report to file, but I’ll drop in later with supplies. Send a spark if you need anything.” Deceit wasted no time getting lost among the crowd, leaving him with a shoe-less girl dressed in a potato sack.

“What’s your name?”

“Laine...” She seemed more unsure than when Deceit was still with them, but Christov was determined to just roll with it.

“Well, Laine, let’s start by getting you some shoes.” Christov nodded. That was a rather fine place to start.