Enslavement of a Different Sort

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 12:20 am

5th of Spring, 515 AV

Xii was locked in her room. The people who had followed her in the streets ~there were three different ones that she'd spotted thus far, though she thought only two of them were working together~ had not been difficult yesterday, and that had set her on edge. She had been careful yesterday night, maybe that was why... had come back to Tarsin's early, before the sun had touched the horizon on the lake, just as the first evening rays were turning a buttery orange. And still. She had expected more, somehow.

There had been a progression. The first day in the city had just ended with some eyeing, the feeling of hard stares that maybe seemed like they followed her a little too long.

The next day she had thought she'd seen someone trailing her, again showing too much interest, and she'd felt conspicuously alone and small, but there had been nothing she could do about it. They had stayed back, though. Far back. She actually hadn't even been certain that anyone was following her that day, or if she was just imaging it. But she didn't think she had been. She'd had an ill feeling.

The third day had been the worst. She'd had two encounters. One where a man made a grab at her and she had fled... almost into the arms of another. A trap. Only taking a daring leap across a very, very narrow canal had saved her, and she had nearly slipped and fallen in, marking up her palms and knees in the process. She didn't know how to swim and she wasn't the strongest, even when it came to simple motions like jumping or running. These were another couple of things she would have to fix about herself, living in this water-filled, danger-filled city.

The second encounter on the third day had been a new man she hadn't recognized. He had been the third one to take exceptional notice of her, and she thought he wasn't working with the others. He hadn't made any attempt to capture her, yet, at least not that she'd seen... but there had been something about him that had warned her off, even more than the others. He had seemed different somehow. She couldn't tell exactly why. But it reminded her of the patience of the hunt. Of stalking the prey. Of knowing just what they'd do, and knowing how you'd get them in the end. She hadn't liked that, coming from someone who was looking at her. Not one bit.

So she had resolved to stay in her room for as long as necessary to come up with a plan. There was a problem, though. It was hard to think of something that might outwit people who had lived in this place for so long, for she was certain each one of her adversaries were residents. They would know the streets better than her. The laws. The customs of the people, and how to act in public without drawing notice. They would likely have the Ebonstryfe and the public on their side... she was beginning to understand just how much people like her, outsiders, weren't really welcome here. And besides being an outsider, she was also half-Zith. The Zith side of her ~the pure side as she thought of it, the worthy side~ made it so that many people seemed to hate and distrust her. And for good reason. She knew how she was.

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 12:30 am

But what could she do? She was trapped here until she could figure out something. She knew about the slavery in the city, now. She knew why those men had been following her like that.

For a long time Xii laid on the floor next to the bed, staring up at the ceiling above her. Her hands were crossed over her belly, one lying over the other, fingers tapping restlessly on the back of her hand. She wracked her brain, thinking. But nothing. Nothing.

Well, where was it she could start? The citizenship office... but she had already realized they would never accept someone like her. And did she even want to be a citizen? This city was nearly as bad as Syliras, and it had taken more than a full season of travel to get the stink of that place off her. Could she bear to anchor herself here? Even if it was for Rhysol?

That last question brought her up short, and she automatically answered, chastising herself: yes. Of course yes. Anything for Rhysol. And, looking at the bright side... she would never be like the true-born citizens of this place. That was the biggest shortcoming as far as she could see. How they were all so ignorant of Rhysol's true greatness. They thought he was a protector. A savior. And to them, he was. She had already heard about the clean, pure water of the lake, and felt the general docility of the weather. But to Xii Rhysol was much more. Much much more.

Her largest, most dearest dream in life was that one day she would be just like him. And she really meant it. Just. Like. Him. It didn't even matter that she hadn't met him. The hatred of the Syliran people had been enough to convince her. He had it. Everything she wanted. Everything she aspired to. It made her want to be close to him, so close to him that it was as if they shared the same space, the same mind. It made her want to become him.

Lying on the ground, Xii rolled over, pressing her forehead to the floor. Okay. So the first step in her grand plan was to meet Rhysol, the greatest of gods. Her idol. Meeting him most certainly meant being here, in Ravok, or at least so she had reasoned. Being here meant staying in the city, but without becoming someone else's plaything, for that would be unacceptable. She didn't know if she could become a citizen. She would have to look into that. And even if she did, it might take a long time. She didn't know how these things worked. Xii would not allow herself to make a mistake by thinking that things would be simple or easy for her. She had to assume citizenship would be difficult. Even impossible.

So what did that leave, though? If she couldn't be a citizen and fit in with the public... then what of the men that had been following her, getting closer every day? There was the possibility that she could allow herself to become a slave, just to simplify things. She thought... no, she knew. Slaves were better treated in the city than outsiders like herself. But no. The thought of doing that boiled her blood til her eyes went red. Letting those men catch her. No. And then having to be bossed around by one of the city idiots. Not doing what she wanted to do. Only doing what they wanted. Maybe not even being allowed to pursue Rhysol. It was revolting.

She had lived that before, lived it everyday still, though she had become more free in increments. First had been the damn Drykas, always waiting for her to mess up so they could kill her or exile her. Then the Sylirans and their knights, trampling into each other and over everyone else's business. Making her live as an orphan in that dumb orphanage, just because she was a child without parents. What did that matter? Nothing. She had chosen to be who she was. She had made that decision for herself, and it had been the right one.

Then had been the long journey to Ravok, and the traders. Expecting her to toil away everyday. Asking her all sorts of questions. Treating her like dirt, like she was a slug in the mud that owed them something. And the one... she couldn't even think about him without wanting to throw up all her revulsion and hatred. She would have killed him had she gotten any opportunity, and petch the consequences. She could only hope she would meet him again and be strong enough to end his decrepit existence then. Or perhaps bend him to her will as he had forced her. She thought she had many uses for someone like him. She thought she would like to see how his insides worked while he was still living and breathing.

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 12:37 am

The Zithling rolled again, this time onto her side, ending up practically under the bed. At least the floor was relatively clean. Lying on hard surfaces always soothed her, especially her temper. Even though she would like to cut that man open piece by piece and see how long he lived...

Something about the thought of vivisection caught the young girl's attention, and she frowned at the wall, trying to think why it suddenly seemed so important to her. Revenge was always important, but not like this. There was a suddenness, an urgency to the thought. Vivisection, not quite like dissection. Cutting into living things.

What was it? Maybe it had just reminded her of her plans. She needed to go bird-catching soon. She would need to buy some paper ~or a book or journal~ for keeping notes and drawings, plus some things for writing with. The good thing about the orphanage had been the old woman living nearby who had offered to teach her to write and read Common.

Hmm. Bird-catching, yes. She might need a net or something. She didn't know if she would be allowed ~the last word rankled at her~ to use her bow and arrows within the floating city. And speaking of nets... maybe fish-catching, too? She already had some line... maybe she could use the line on the birds, as well. Hook 'em like a fish, but in the beak not the lip. That might be interesting to try. And then after that she would use them to study their parts, dissecting if necessary to figure out how they worked, and from there she would start to change herself.

Another of her dreams was to grow wings. Gills might be useful too, considering the water content of the city and how deep the lake was. She would use her morphing, and...
and...

And that was it! Suddenly the idea sparked to life behind her eyes, and she sat up abruptly in her excitement, nearly banging her head against the bottom of the bed as she did. Morphing! She could use her morphing! She had seen the branding and tattoos on the slaves' hands. She thought, with some practice, she could duplicate such marks. It would be pretty easy, especially if she was motivated, and she was.

So what if she wasn't a citizen? So what if she didn't want to be a slave? That meant nothing to someone like her. She was used to pretending, all day. Every day. Ever since the destruction of her home colony and being ripped from the proper way of living, amongst the Zith. If she could pretend to like all the people she absolutely detested, and there were a lot of them, then she could pretend to be a slave, easy. All she needed was to put one of those marks on the back of her hands. Maybe buy a collar. Make up a story to feed to people who might question her. It wouldn't take much to fool them. Not much at all.

It would be smarter, she knew, to fake it completely. To change all of her, so that she looked like a human. But she didn't want to do that unless she had to. It was a betrayal of her people. Of all that she was proud of. There was no race better than the Zith.

But then again, she reminded herself after a moment's thought... anything for Rhysol. Pretending to be a slave might not be enough. Slaves probably couldn't do things that normal citizens could do. And they might still be treated poorly. A human, on the other hand, even a human outsider, well that might be a different story. She tried to think back to the other people who had come across on the boat with her. There must have been some humans in with them. Had she noticed people sneering at them, looking down at them, even becoming aggressive or angry? No. But she hadn't really been looking, either, too focused on herself. Still... she thought it might work.

The Zithling gritted her teeth, wrestling against the idea in her mind, trying to come up with something, some reason strong enough to combat it. But eventually she had to give up, slumping down once more to the floor, letting out a sigh. She put her hands over her eyes, trying to loosen the hard set of her jaw. Human. She would create a form... and pretend to be human. Oh it burned her. It was almost painful to contemplate. But it was necessary. For Rhysol.

For Rhysol.

For Rhysol. It was already becoming a mantra. She had already done many, many things that she hadn't wanted to do. And all for Rhysol. And, she hoped, for herself.

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 3:28 am

6th of Spring, 515 AV

Xii returned from Odds and Ends in a rush, a small package clutched tightly to her chest with both hands so as not to break it. She dashed back to her room in Tarsin's, glad it wasn't far from the store, just across the canal, but enraged by the confusing and sometimes nonsensical layout of the city's streets, if they could be called that: the unreliable walkways in front of, behind, and flanking some of the buildings. This canal was too large for her to hope to jump, and she still refused to board what the people of the city called ravosalas, not trusting them to take her where she actually wanted. So she had had to find a way around, and for these two buildings being so close to one another, it had taken an inordinate amount of time to find her way back to her room. She would have to study the layout of the city, sometime, maybe buy a map if there was one available or make her own, and then mark down shortcuts. If she was to stay here, she would need to know this city inside and out.

The item she held so carefully in her arms was wrapped in a small bag of some smooth, soft material for protection. Now, after she had slammed and locked the door to her room behind her, the Zithling took the item out, propping it carefully up against the wall upon the room's wooden chest, using it as a makeshift table. The item was a small, silvery mirror, and had cost her 10 gm in total, which she had unsuccessfully tried to haggle down. At least it was in good condition. Uncracked and unmarked, not even smudged, it reflected her face perfectly... or so she assumed.

Xii spent a moment staring at the image reflected back before her, studying the sight of her own small face. She hadn't ever thought to look at herself before. She didn't know if she'd ever even seen a mirror before today, though she must have since she had known she'd needed to buy one. At the store, she'd also picked up the journal and charcoal she'd need to write down any notes or secrets she had, or to draw quick, simple maps of the city or of the internal organs and structures of animals or people. Those she had stuffed into her backpack and thought nothing more of; the mirror, however, had been too special and fragile to just toss into her pack.

The face looking back at her was one that had an unexpected guarded quality about it, with a hard set to the line of the mouth and suspicious eyes. This irked her, because she didn't like to think that she looked untrustworthy, even if she was. Xii spent a few moments smoothing out different parts of her features, relaxing the expression bit by bit: first softening the mouth, then the eyes, the forehead, the way she held her jaw. Eventually, a blank expression stared back at her, and she allowed a smile in her success, watching in fascination as it sharpened the edges of her face. She decided she liked the smile. She tried it out again, then spent a moment inspecting the natural lay of her her hair and the dark almost blackness of her eyes. She liked that too. How very dark they were. She didn't know why.

It was almost a shame to have to shut her eyes for this next part, but she felt it was necessary, so she did. Morphing she still didn't quite have the hang of, though she was getting better, obviously, than she had been when she'd first begun. The man she had so loathed in the caravan of traders, he had been the one to teach her some of this, though his methods had been... unsavory.

Now she tried to clear her mind. Meditation had always been difficult for her. Probably because it was boring. Probably because her Mumma had insisted on it, which had naturally only made her want to object and resist. Probably because she just wasn't made for it; had she ever seen a Zith meditate? No.

Then again, there were those moments in the hunt, where the focus was so even it was like the sharpened edge of a blade, in perfect balance, so fine as to split a hair. Those waiting moments where you held your breath slightly, sucking in your stomach so as not to let even the lightest exhalation of scent pass from between your lips. Those moments where you held so still that you became a part of your surroundings. That was what Xii focused on now. Becoming a part of her surroundings.
ooc-10 gm for mirror
-3 gm for blank book
-5 cm for 10 charcoal sticks
= -13.0.5 gm

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 3:36 am

She recalled the shape of the room, just a simple block, and its layout of even simpler furniture. It was easy to do. There was only the bed, the chest with the mirror propped up on it, the walls and ceiling and floor. And the door with its little lock; there were no windows, she had been glad of that. She brought each of these into her mind, imagining them in great detail.

The bed. The bed was smallish, though still much too large for her. She had sat on it but never laid down. She remembered the depression of the mattress under her light weight, and the puffing sound it had made. Likely it was a large sort of bag sewn together on all edges and stuffed with straw or scraps of material or both. The outside material had been thick enough that she hadn't felt the straw poking. The frame was wooden and looked as if it had been made by an amateur, but was solidly constructed nonetheless. It had no carvings or design; four stocky legs reached to the floor, with flat planks underneath to hold the mattress off the ground. The bedding had also been simple, a pillow that was likely layers of material sewn into a padded whole, and a soft, if threadbare, blanket. Xii had opted to sleep on the ground with her own blanket rather than use the ones offered by the inn. The ground was much more comfortable to her.

The chest wasn't much to look at, and so she could supply only little detail. It was made out of wood, probably by the same person who had furnished the bed frame. The fittings had looked to be made of iron, the nails hammered smoothly into place, the hinges skillfully fitted but creaky when you opened the top of the chest. The inside was plain wood, sanded down so as not to splinter. It was large enough to hold her backpack four times over, side by side.

The walls and ceiling were smooth and made out of some sort of pale white stone brick, though they had looked like they, too, had been sanded down to a soft smoothness. Halfway across each wall was hung a small iron lantern of minimal design, made just for holding a candle and not for being pretty. Each was outfitted with said candle, and Xii had each candle lit for the maximum amount of light. Smoke stained the corners of the walls and the ceiling, especially above the lanterns, and hung in wispy clouds above her head. There was a grate in one corner of the room for ventilation, no doubt taking the smoke to a central airway or chimney to be released to the sky.

The floors were made of smoothed wood, laid in boards, as was the door, the color of the wood a bit darker than that of the chest and the bed. The door was thick with an iron knob and latch, though it rattled a bit in the frame and hung heavily, making it sometimes hard for someone as small as Xii to handle. The latch was oiled to work at its best, sliding easily into place though she had to stand on her toes to properly reach it, and the oil left a dark residue on the fingers if touched.

As Xii remembered all this, she made sure to leave her breathing alone, not focusing on it or controlling it in any way, just letting it happen. She sat in a relaxed position with her legs crossed and arms resting against her knees, head tilted slightly downward, chin toward her chest. The image of the room was so clear in her mind, like she had her eyes open. The next part was to make herself a fixture of her surroundings, separating her mind from the rest of it all. From her body.

So she thought of the mirror she'd bought to see herself with, and she thought of herself as she was. Sitting to one side of the room in front of the chest. She kept herself from thinking in terms of feelings, like noticing the temperature or the hardness of the ground beneath her. Instead, she focused purely on what was on the outside, as if she was standing over herself, looking down.

This was difficult. It had always been the most difficult part. It was extremely hard to forget about the little things: what it was like to breathe, if she was hungry or cold or tired, how she felt emotionally, if she had an itch or a hurt, the stress that came inherent in having a physical body. Looking down at herself, she had to eliminate all that from her consciousness, to focus purely on appearances. She had to allow herself to become just another piece of furniture to be inspected, and it was hard. Really hard.

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 3:41 am

She slipped up a few times, accidentally coming back to herself. Once her back started to ache at the position she was in, dragging her into herself. And once a piece of dust or ribbon of smoke caused her to wrinkle her nose, breaking her concentration once more. Finally, though, she managed it.

She saw a person, and though she knew that person was herself, she also somehow doubted that information, because how could she be that person when she was right here? The person was a child, very small and thin and almost frail-looking in her skinniness. She had long dark hair that fell down her back, slightly tangled as if she didn't pay much attention to it. Her eyes, oddly, were open and blank and staring, and though that was strange to Xii, the open part, she didn't know why it should be. She shied away from following that thought, feeling as if it might somehow tip her over, unbalance her from where she was, and so she instead observed on.

The girl was sitting in a familiar position, one that Xii's own mother had taught her, and breathed evenly without any hitches. Her face, despite the open eyes, looked like that of someone who was sleeping, having gone slightly slack. It was a vulnerable look, and Xii thought that the girl was stupid for having let her guard down like that. Xii was right here. She could hurt the child if she wanted. And she did want to.

But... no. There was something else to be done. The mirror. She focused on it, and there was a peculiar crackling in her mind, hard to explain, like two edges grinding together, two things that were not quite aligned. Looking into the mirror Xii saw the girl's face, and that was somehow disquieting, but she didn't let it concern her. She studied the face, the black eyes watching her, and decided that the face would suit her needs better --would look more human-- if the skin was not so dark or grey, but lighter, fairer.

She brought to mind the skin tone of most of the children she had met in Syliras, and focused on the girl's form, delving... deeper. The girl was just another item that could be created and destroyed, made and unmade to her liking, though this was more intimate. Just as she could paint a picture she could paint this girl's flesh, though the processes were entirely different. Painting a picture was external, was bringing something new to alter what was already there. Painting the girl was internal. It was like reaching into her, somehow, and picking out the proper color to bring to the surface.

Xii felt herself dredge deep into the child's form, reaching out to find what she needed. It took a while, but when she did find what she was looking for she recognized the sensation: oddly, it was that of plucking strings. She had seen bards play instruments, and this was reminiscent of that, though there was no noise that came with it. Instead, as Xii pulled the strings, she saw a blush spread across the girl's face. At first it was a hint of rose at her mouth, coloring her lips.. then the color paled as it streaked to the rest of her, turning light, peachy. It replaced the darkness of her flesh, and Xii checked the hands and neck, making sure it reached there, and wished the girl had taken her shoes off, for it would have been nice to check the feet as well.

Before her, the girl made a soft noise, her eyebrows drawing slightly down, and Xii hushed her with a hiss. Obediently, the small creature settled down, though she still looked bothered. Xii ignored the expression, carrying on.

by **Xii** on March 22nd, 2015, 3:50 am

Back to the mirror. The skin color was good, it looked healthy, not unnatural... but more was necessary. The slavers would likely still recognize her, though they might be confused. The features... it was necessary to change those. With a discerning eye, Xii reached down into the girl once more.

She spent a while plucking different strings, feeling her way around, watching what happened to the girl's form as she did. One string she pulled and the nose began to morph, changing shape. She pulled different areas of that string, and watched as the nose lengthened somewhat, the nostrils growing smaller, the bridge narrowing, the whole of it growing more delicate. She stopped when she thought she'd found an appropriate shape, and continued on with other features.

The eyes. These she widened somewhat, making them bigger like a doll's, the eyelashes lightening in color as well as the iris. She played with that for a while, trying out different colors. The black faded to dark brown, then brown, a hazel, green. She found she liked the green... but how many people had green eyes like that, bright like a cat's? She decided it would be better to go with a steely blue-grey, so much lighter than what they had been before, but in no way unusual. She didn't want any of the new features to bring attention to the girl, though she didn't know why that was. Perhaps the girl had asked her to do it that way. But what did it matter what the girl wanted? At least this was practical. Appearing unique was hardly ever useful; blending in was much better. Allowed for more freedom.

The mouth she left about the same, though she made it a little wider, and gave it a shape that suggested humor, a natural inclination to smile. Not looking serious all the time might make people overlook the girl, think she was just a regular human child, with no worries.

It was as she was narrowing the general face shape that Xii noticed her subject making another noise, though this time it came louder, and with more distress. She wanted to tell the ungrateful vermin to quiet down and accept what was happening... but then she noticed the slight sheen of sweat beading around her hairline, but the sweat wasn't the right color... it was beading red. Blood. And the girl's face... didn't it look flushed, as if she had a temperature? High spots of color had appeared on her cheeks.

A sudden something nagged at the back of Xii's mind, telling her that somehow things had gone wrong, too far, but she wanted to go on sculpting the girl to completion. Then she realized, with a flash, that the girl's body language had also changed. She read the outline easily, as if it had been a word written on paper, though it was drawn in Pavi: warning.

There was that weird grinding sensation again, in her head. Like two things, not quite lined up, pressing against one another. Xii's vision flickered into two, double-vision: she was standing over the body, and she was looking out of the body, at the mirror. At her own reddened face.

That last thought knocked her out of the mediation, or whatever it was, and Xii came back to herself with a start, sensations on the assault from every part of her being. Suddenly she could feel herself breathe, and the breathing was rough. Suddenly the room felt hot, way too hot, and that must be the fever; her limbs felt weak with heat, it was hard to keep sitting up, and her head hurt, throbbing in time with her thundering heart. Her skin felt like fire: in the mirror, she could see the blood oozing from her pores. A droplet collected at her temple and slicked down the side of her face.

Xii raised a shaking hand and found her entire body was trembling; she felt exhausted. Too tired. Too weak. Her body relaxed of its own accord, sagging to the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head. She drifted, feeling her limbs twitch every once and a while. It was not sleep, nor unconsciousness, nor consciousness, but some other state that was a mix of them all. There were dreams, nightmares, but they didn't come to her fully formed; like sunspots, she would blink and they were gone.

Eventually though, it was over, and then she did sleep. She did so heavily and deeply, and there were no dreams.

by **Elias Caldera** on April 6th, 2015, 4:20 am

Behold, Your Just Reward !

Xii

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