Those who believed that children were the embodiment of innocence and purity never actually followed the little shites when they entered adolescence. It might be the sudden surge of growth, or a new sense of independence -- or the idiotic belief that one was no longer a child overnight -- that often inspired them with a need to show dominance over the rest.
She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she cared. She was only sure she found them incessantly annoying.
Shael sat on the railing outside of the hot springs, her back to the ocean. One sake bottle was balanced precariously next to her, half empty. She idly watched a group of children that ran up the stairs with some treats in hand. All seemed cheery and innocent and light-hearted... until one of them snatched the snack from another child's hands and pushed him down. The child on the ground at first didn’t quite know what to do, shock evident upon his face. The taller child, now with two goodies in hand -- candied plums, she surmised from a distance -- let out a laugh and ran back down the stairs into the street leading away from the inn. Two other children blinked, a bit dumbfounded, before they too ran down the stairs after the first. The last child, left on the ground, began to cry.
Shael only watched, bringing the bottle of sake to her lips once again. She hissed when the bitter taste of the powder hit her tongue; even sake could not quite mask the acrid taste of the medicine that Nabi gave her. Good for healing bones, she said. But so much for the taste buds.
Smacking her lips with a surly expression firmly etched in place, she watched the child eventually wipe the tears off his cheeks, his bawling giving way to occasional sniffles. It was only a matter of time before the ghostly image of a well-dressed woman appeared, walking tall and straight, looming over the child.
“Just stay away from those rabbles,†Shael's mother said with a sniff. “They are just proving that are savages.â€
Shael watched her younger self push upon on her knees to stand. She could not have been older than nine, sporting bruises on her cheeks and scuff marks on her knuckles. Unlike the child that had his treat taken away, she had fought back -- had thrown punch for punch, despite the fact that the boy that was picking on her was older, bigger, and stronger. It was the last kick to her belly that made her stay down while he and his friend laughed, though they scattered into the alley when her mother came into the scene.
Shael pushed her mother’s hand away when it tried to hand her a handkerchief. She wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve instead, glaring up at her mother with a look of defiance, and promptly stalked away. Her mother did never asked what that fight was about, or she may have questioned who exactly was the savage in the fight.
The ghosts of her memory faded from her vision, leaving only the child in the distance, still robbed of his treat. She watched him slowly rise and trudge back down the stairs, likely in search of the other children who had abandoned him. Shael guessed that he was going to go find them, and forgive them, and try to be friends again.
Pathetic, Shael told herself. The child should make do alone rather than trying to make nice with that greedy boy, or the spineless shites he hung out with. Who needed the likes of them? Today it might a candied plum, but tomorrow something much more valuable. The child was only setting himself up for more disappointment.
“Infuriating people who just can't help but be nice. I've known a few of those. Bleedin' hearts, I call 'em.†Her own words echoed once more in her mind. She looked down at her right arm and hand, now encased in a firm cast and supported by a sling. Shael vaguely remembered yelling and pushing the Xaela away in her drunken stupor, but Nabi had continued to insist on examining her arm. Shael did not remember actually hitting the woman, but certainly threatening her with all manner of violence, especially when Nabi (painfully) straightened her deformed and broken fingers. A part of her knew that they were dislocated as well, but the sake helped her not care. The Xaela woman unfortunately confirmed it, and then promptly corrected the defect. It was not a gentle process.
“Why is she being nice to me?†Shael had asked quietly, when the Xaela ran back to her stall to retrieve yet another potion for her, leaving her bodyguard to watch over her.
“Hm. I couldn't say," Tserende answered after a long pause for consideration. "More than likely the same reason she was surprised, at the market." His tone was neutral, almost polite, but Shael knew that was just an act. He was an enforcer: One of those quietly spoken brutes that had no problem carrying on a civil conversation as they yanked out their victim’s fingernails.
She had made her mind up to shoot him the next time he approached her, but when she saw him again, it was with the Xaela. Nabi remained clueless as to how her hand was broken, since Shael elected not to tell the woman, so of course bringing the offender along for the next visit didn’t seem odd. What was odd was that she subsequently found out that he brought her unconscious body back to the inn, at least according to the innkeeper. And what was even more odd, was that he then offered her a job. A paying job that she actually had to work for. Shael shook her head with a groan as she cupped her chin in her hand. She could not quite understand it.
Shael was convinced he was trying to make up for his guilty conscience by somehow helping her stay sober and out of debt. Or something along those lines.
She accepted his offer, at least in Nabi’s presence, for the sake of keeping up the pretense. Although she wasn’t quite sure why she was even making the effort of keeping the woman in the dark about what what really transpired between her and the Midlander. Then when Shael confronted Tserende alone later, she found out his offer of employment was genuine. Despite her reluctance and dislike of the man, she could not quite argue against the fact that she was out of money and had no other options for paying for her stay, much less her medical treatments.
Only until my hand is healed, Shael told herself. And if she changed her mind, she was certain she could make herself unpleasant enough to just get fired. She firmly told the Midlander, and herself more than once, she most certainly did not need some swivin’ charity.
A frown slowly creased her brow; Shael wondered idly if she was the crying child or the one that took the treat away. She snatched up the sake bottle from the railing and gulped down the rest of it in one long pull. Her face twisted at the taste, but it was emptied and angrily slapped back down onto the wooden surface. She hopped up off her perch, and stalked back toward the inn.
“Soddin’ pathetic,†Shael recalled those words again, the confession of a desperate woman.
Never again.
She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she cared. She was only sure she found them incessantly annoying.
Shael sat on the railing outside of the hot springs, her back to the ocean. One sake bottle was balanced precariously next to her, half empty. She idly watched a group of children that ran up the stairs with some treats in hand. All seemed cheery and innocent and light-hearted... until one of them snatched the snack from another child's hands and pushed him down. The child on the ground at first didn’t quite know what to do, shock evident upon his face. The taller child, now with two goodies in hand -- candied plums, she surmised from a distance -- let out a laugh and ran back down the stairs into the street leading away from the inn. Two other children blinked, a bit dumbfounded, before they too ran down the stairs after the first. The last child, left on the ground, began to cry.
Shael only watched, bringing the bottle of sake to her lips once again. She hissed when the bitter taste of the powder hit her tongue; even sake could not quite mask the acrid taste of the medicine that Nabi gave her. Good for healing bones, she said. But so much for the taste buds.
Smacking her lips with a surly expression firmly etched in place, she watched the child eventually wipe the tears off his cheeks, his bawling giving way to occasional sniffles. It was only a matter of time before the ghostly image of a well-dressed woman appeared, walking tall and straight, looming over the child.
“Just stay away from those rabbles,†Shael's mother said with a sniff. “They are just proving that are savages.â€
Shael watched her younger self push upon on her knees to stand. She could not have been older than nine, sporting bruises on her cheeks and scuff marks on her knuckles. Unlike the child that had his treat taken away, she had fought back -- had thrown punch for punch, despite the fact that the boy that was picking on her was older, bigger, and stronger. It was the last kick to her belly that made her stay down while he and his friend laughed, though they scattered into the alley when her mother came into the scene.
Shael pushed her mother’s hand away when it tried to hand her a handkerchief. She wiped her bloody nose on her sleeve instead, glaring up at her mother with a look of defiance, and promptly stalked away. Her mother did never asked what that fight was about, or she may have questioned who exactly was the savage in the fight.
The ghosts of her memory faded from her vision, leaving only the child in the distance, still robbed of his treat. She watched him slowly rise and trudge back down the stairs, likely in search of the other children who had abandoned him. Shael guessed that he was going to go find them, and forgive them, and try to be friends again.
Pathetic, Shael told herself. The child should make do alone rather than trying to make nice with that greedy boy, or the spineless shites he hung out with. Who needed the likes of them? Today it might a candied plum, but tomorrow something much more valuable. The child was only setting himself up for more disappointment.
“Infuriating people who just can't help but be nice. I've known a few of those. Bleedin' hearts, I call 'em.†Her own words echoed once more in her mind. She looked down at her right arm and hand, now encased in a firm cast and supported by a sling. Shael vaguely remembered yelling and pushing the Xaela away in her drunken stupor, but Nabi had continued to insist on examining her arm. Shael did not remember actually hitting the woman, but certainly threatening her with all manner of violence, especially when Nabi (painfully) straightened her deformed and broken fingers. A part of her knew that they were dislocated as well, but the sake helped her not care. The Xaela woman unfortunately confirmed it, and then promptly corrected the defect. It was not a gentle process.
“Why is she being nice to me?†Shael had asked quietly, when the Xaela ran back to her stall to retrieve yet another potion for her, leaving her bodyguard to watch over her.
“Hm. I couldn't say," Tserende answered after a long pause for consideration. "More than likely the same reason she was surprised, at the market." His tone was neutral, almost polite, but Shael knew that was just an act. He was an enforcer: One of those quietly spoken brutes that had no problem carrying on a civil conversation as they yanked out their victim’s fingernails.
She had made her mind up to shoot him the next time he approached her, but when she saw him again, it was with the Xaela. Nabi remained clueless as to how her hand was broken, since Shael elected not to tell the woman, so of course bringing the offender along for the next visit didn’t seem odd. What was odd was that she subsequently found out that he brought her unconscious body back to the inn, at least according to the innkeeper. And what was even more odd, was that he then offered her a job. A paying job that she actually had to work for. Shael shook her head with a groan as she cupped her chin in her hand. She could not quite understand it.
Shael was convinced he was trying to make up for his guilty conscience by somehow helping her stay sober and out of debt. Or something along those lines.
She accepted his offer, at least in Nabi’s presence, for the sake of keeping up the pretense. Although she wasn’t quite sure why she was even making the effort of keeping the woman in the dark about what what really transpired between her and the Midlander. Then when Shael confronted Tserende alone later, she found out his offer of employment was genuine. Despite her reluctance and dislike of the man, she could not quite argue against the fact that she was out of money and had no other options for paying for her stay, much less her medical treatments.
Only until my hand is healed, Shael told herself. And if she changed her mind, she was certain she could make herself unpleasant enough to just get fired. She firmly told the Midlander, and herself more than once, she most certainly did not need some swivin’ charity.
A frown slowly creased her brow; Shael wondered idly if she was the crying child or the one that took the treat away. She snatched up the sake bottle from the railing and gulped down the rest of it in one long pull. Her face twisted at the taste, but it was emptied and angrily slapped back down onto the wooden surface. She hopped up off her perch, and stalked back toward the inn.
“Soddin’ pathetic,†Shael recalled those words again, the confession of a desperate woman.
Never again.
