Solo Snake in Sheep's Clothing

[Allassanachassanya]

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4th Autumn 521 AV
"Speech"

“Oh, Rhysol, hear my prayer.”

It was early morning. Dark enough for the shore of the lake to be a grey, smoky shadow, light enough to watch a couple of bats swooping low over the edges of the city, gathering their tiny prey from the surface of the inky water that housed Ravok. Ssanya’s eyes followed them as they spiralled upwards and away. She was sat on the floor, midway through a delivery for her owner, taking a small break in the pre-dawn. It was starting to become somewhat of a habit for her, to attempt this prayer to Rhysol. She cleared her throat and continued her prayer, her voice rough and terse from under use. “Please hear my request for salvation, my plea for your understanding. Would you grant me my freedom? What would you request from me in return?” She murmured, though there was little sincere feeling held within her rote prayer.

She reached down so that her fingertips graced the surface of the cool lake. As she’d done many times previously, she used the water to trace vague, circular patterns on the floor with her dampened finger. As she did so, she let her mind become unshackled from the daily reality of her enslavement. Her eyes fluttered closed. She breathed deep the fresh, damp air of the city. With her sense of vision extinguished, her other senses sharpened a notch. She listened to the gurgling water of the lake, and the distant hubbub of early morning city life. The smell of lake water, and somewhere, breakfast cooking intermingled and made her stomach pang.

She sat like that for a few moments, quietly contemplative but thinking of nothing in particular, then gathered her focus inwards. One by one, she began trying to quench her thoughts. She directed her concentration towards Rhysol, in a manner she thought suitably penitent. Hear my prayer, lord Rhysol. Tell me the cost of freedom. Let me decide. Ssanya listened intently, but as with the many, many times she’d tried previously, heard nothing in return but the whisper of a gentle breeze. As if it would be that easy.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and released her concentration, allowing her mind to wander and relax after the inevitable failure of her prayers. As usual, she began thinking of the past. Life was comfortable in the past. Thinking of the past had always been a favourite hobby of hers, and it had been something she had clung to during the dark days of her mental submission. She recalled Alvadas, and the strange but beautiful woman named Madeira Craven she’d met and fallen in love with there. She remembered the ghosts that had been drawn to the woman, and Allister, the freakish Kelvic, and the winding and unwinding city itself that had so enthralled her. Sometimes it hurt to think of the budding family she had lost. Her thoughts turned to the mundane. That place in Alvadas she’d stayed at. What was its name? She racked her brain, but couldn’t remember.

Slowly, she ground her knuckles into the floor, feeling grit embed into her fist, feeling Ravok’s dirt under her fingernails. Ssanya had been in Ravok for about three years now, give or take. In the span of her already long life, it was a drop in the ocean. But nevertheless, it felt like an eternity. She gazed down at the pattern she’d drawn on the floor, then smudged her finger through the inane scrawling, suddenly irritated. The slave's mark on the back of her hand glared at her, reminding her of reality. Standing, she scuffed her foot through the pattern, obliterating it completely. Her life in Alvadas was over; there was no use dwelling on the past. That cosy, comforting past had gradually come to feel like the very chains that held her as a slave. Reminiscing and nostalgia were the bars on her mental cage, stopping her from truly putting effort into escape.

WC: 661

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

With a shake of her head, Ssanya gathered the pack she’d been tasked with delivering, and continued on her way. She navigated Ravok’s alleys, bridges and boats with practised ease on her errand run. Her master, knowing she had nowhere to run to, and nowhere to hide, allowed these excursions through the city. She was a delivery girl, a mule, a cleaner and a tool all encapsulated in one. Over the past few years, Ssanya had become used to this simple existence. After a couple of years of the same thing, day in day out, she had settled into the life of a slave. She had come to believe, in her deepest heart, that she was a slave, and nothing could change that fact.

Yet recently, this resigned feeling had begun to change. There wasn’t anything in particular that had brought about this change. For example, last season she had woken with a start, and suddenly felt trapped in a way that she hadn’t felt since the early days of her enslavement. A few days later, and the mad notion to flee had almost brought her to the attention of the city’s soldiers. Ssanya didn’t dare think about the potential outcome of that particular brief moment of almost-folly. No, she couldn’t explain why she felt the need to be free, when for so long she had been content with enslavement. But nowadays, this need was ever-present.

The delivery bag she had been entrusted with dug into her shoulders. It was crammed full of the client’s requested goods; mainly bolts, screws and other such household goods for the repair of a jetty in the Merchant’s Ring. She was nearing her destination, an abode located on the outskirts of the floating city. Ssanya was a little unfamiliar with this particular street, so she slowed so as to be able to better navigate Ravok’s sometimes treacherous walkways.

The sun had risen now, and with it the city had woken up fully. The streets and the waterways were getting busier. So as not to attract unwanted attention, Ssanya kept her gaze firmly fixated either ahead of her or to the floor, but as always she kept her slave’s mark as visible as she could. Non-citizens were not well-regarded, but slaves were accepted as long as they were doing what they should be doing. Ssanya knew she was no exception to that rule. Most people paid her little to no attention. Nevertheless, at the corner of the building she was approaching, her gaze was caught by the calm, watchful eyes of an unassuming, straight-backed man. He spotted her looking at him, and a little smile pulled the corner of his lips. He was likely Ebonstryfe, and Ssanya didn’t want trouble. Her gaze slid back down, but the brief interaction worried her. She did not like to be noticed.

There were men already at work on the jetty as she approached, and she flashed the back of her hand at the man she recognised had visited Thorin’s Workshop yesterday by way of a greeting.
”Them’s the goods? Alright, place them here.” Ssanya nodded, and wriggled free of the pack. She unlaced the cords that kept the bag sealed, and began withdrawing the cloth-wrapped bundles of hardware, tools and fixtures that the man had ordered, placing them on the work table he’d indicated.

”Hey, Telyn, come here.” The man gestured another, who came and began gathering the tools and distributing them amongst the other workers. The men were already beginning their day’s work, and the sounds of their jovial banter accompanied Ssanya as she slipped away unnoticed after only a chime. She hopped onto an already crowded ravosala to head back to her master. It wasn’t a particularly long way back to the workshop, but she didn’t have the time to dawdle. She disembarked the ravosala, and began down an alley she hadn’t used before that cut between two nondescript houses. Her pace was quick and fleet-footed. Quiet. It was a normal day, like any other, but as of late she had been distracted by thoughts and plans of escape. There was also the additional worry of the unknown Ebonstryfe man, who was an unknown factor. It was for this reason that she stumbled, deep in thought, her foot having caught on a displaced board.

WC: 718

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

She swore in Snake-tongue, but her forward momentum carried her towards the ground without any chance to stop herself. Except it wasn’t the ground, but a five-foot drop to the black waters of the lake. The unfamiliar street had spat her out. She was preparing herself for a cold shock, when a pair of strong, masculine arms caught around her middle and held her midway through her fall, so that she was suspended over the open canal. Startled, Ssanya grasped the necklace of her mother’s fingerbone, that had jolted free of her clothes and was dangling loosely around her neck, to stop her precious heirloom from slipping into the inky blackness of the water below. ”Woah there, stop struggling girl.” The man grunted softly, and hoisted her upright. The grip was tight and warm, not unlike the hug of a friend, but Ssanya stopped dead with fear in her heart. Strangers invariably meant danger in a city such as Ravok, and she had an uncanny feeling that this stranger was more dangerous than first appearances.

Hastily, she began to explain, ”I’m a slave, to Thorin..-”
”I know, sslave.” The man’s voice was mocking as he mimicked her hissing speech, but friendly in tone. His breath tickled her hair. He let her go, and she straightened herself out, catching her breath. She had known it before she’d seen him, so it came as no surprise to see that it was the man with dark, watchful eyes. The Ebonstryfer.

”It was a good job I caught you. That would have been quite a tumble.” He laughed. Ssanya nodded mutely. ”Don’t you have somewhere to go? Thorin’s Forge is, I believe, around the corner. Although it seems you’re a little unsure of your direction here.” The man looked at her expectantly. ”Aren’t you?” He was waiting for an answer. Ssanya wasn’t sure whether it was wise to withhold a response. She sensed that this was an exchange within an exchange; the city ensuring its resident slaves were behaving as they should.

However, before she could answer, the man continued talking. His voice was quiet and contemplative. ”Perhaps you need a small refresher, considering your tumble here. You wouldn’t want another fall. As you should know, you’re currently at the docks. The Nitrozian Quarter, to be completely precise. Healing Hands is that way. If you go further in that direction, you’ll eventually come across the Plaza of Dark Delights, though I expect that might dredge up some bad memories for you.” He smiled confidentially at her, and wiggled his eyebrows at her exposed hand with its corresponding mark of her enslavement. Ssanya said nothing, and took a deep breath through her nose. He was right, of course. She did everything within her limited power to stay away from the place she’d been traded like livestock.

”Then if you go thataway,” he pointed south, ”you’ll reach the centre of the city. There you’ll find the Temple, whole hosts of Ebonstryfe, and priests and priestesses of our lord Rhysol. There’s the bell tower, and would you believe it? Hear that ringing?” He tilted his head, an amazed expression on his face, as the bell was tolling seven. Ssanya smiled tightly, an uncomfortable feeling that she was somehow totally exposed to this man, as if he could read her thoughts and could tell just how much she wanted to run. ”The bell’s ringing, just for us. How lovely.

Where was I… Oh yes. Further that way is the Noble District. And that way is your destination, dear. Thorin’s Forge. I just wanted to make you aware, that you can always count on me, or someone like me, for directions. There’s always someone in Ravok who’s willing to help lost sheep. I certainly wouldn’t want to see a lost sheep.” Ssanya smiled again, feeling the insincerity in her tight-lipped smile. Her heart was pounding.
”Thank you for your directions. I… Won’t forget.” Ssanya dipped her head and made to carry on in the direction the man was pointing. As she neared him, he reached out and gripped her forearm.
”Cast away this silly notion of escape, little snake. It won’t work, and you’ll only get yourself hurt,” the man breathed, happy-go-lucky ‘citizen of Ravok’ demeanour melting away to reveal a soldier of Rhysol, eyes dark and impenetrable as the lake they both stood above. ”Better for you and better for all involved if you stop begging Rhysol for freedom and just accept that you’re a slave. You’ve a better master than some, but things can always change. And really, what do you have that our lord Rhysol could possibly want? Nothing, snake girl. You’re less than nobody.”


WC: 826

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[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"

Ssanya gritted her teeth, but said nothing. She took a steady breath through her nose, and kept her eyes averted from the man, then released the pressure in her jaw. He was right, in a sense. She knew she had got lucky. She also knew she had little value to anyone. She was a body, a tool for the use of whoever owned her. Being a nobody meant she was fragile. It would be more than dangerous to put herself in the view of the Ebonstryfe as a person of interest, it would be nigh on suicidal. The man released her arm, but she didn’t struggle, didn’t move away like someone who had something to hide. She may as well brazen it out with a lie. Quietly, she said, ”You’re right. It was a foolish thought, a… fantasy. Ravok has been good to me. My master has been good to me. I know there is no escape. I don’t even want to escape, anymore.” She paused. ”I just want to live peacefully. I want to be useful.” The dark-eyed man studied her face. Whatever he read there seemed to satisfy him, at least enough for now. His voice was soft and thoughtful when he spoke. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They stood together in the narrow alleyway for a tick or two, before the man shrugged. ”I’ll let you get on now, snake girl.” He grinned, the facade of the easy-going Ravokian easily slotting back into place. The warning had been delivered. Ssanya nodded once. Her mind was racing. Gods, she’d been foolish. Without looking behind her, she turned the corner and picked up the pace. She needed to be serious about her freedom. She would need to work for it, plan for it, and keep it secret within her. Her outward appearance would need to remain the cowed, depressed Dhani she had been for the past few years. It was clear she had been too clumsy recently. The man had likely overheard her beseechment to Rhysol, or had seen her habit of stopping to pray and wondered what she, a person of no free will, was doing. In the end, it didn’t really matter what he’d seen, just that he had seen it in the first place. Ssanya had made a mistake. From now on, she must have no habits, no locations she frequented regularly, nothing to show that she was building an escape plan.

Ssanya rounded the corner, and walked up to the entrance of Thorin’s Forge, pushing the door open. Although her determination to live a free life had only intensified, she was now more than ever aware of the need to keep up appearances. Thorin wasn’t there to note her return, but then he rarely did. Instead, one of the apprentices spotted her entrance, and pointed her in the direction of a broom with a curt gesture. Ssanya smiled briefly, and bowed her head. Time to work.

She swept and tidied the forge all morning. It was hard, manual work, but Ssanya found it strangely calming. It was easy to lapse back into her old routines of easy subservience. She did whatever the apprentices asked of her. Some of it was messy, dirty work. Cleaning the embers, ash and soot from the furnace left her looking and feeling grimy. She usually had to keep an eye on the menial tasks that the forge required to keep it running. When the fuel levels ran low, she went out back to collect more. She carried more iron ingots through, if one of the apprentices hadn't already done so. She was available to transport smaller items to people around the city. This usually wore her out, and tired, she would normally sink straight into the oblivion of sleep.

Tonight, despite her overwhelming tiredness, she lay in the corner of the workshop, chain around her ankle, deep in thought. The man’s little speech from earlier had created new challenges, but it had also given her much to think about. His speech had revealed some things. She would have to try and confirm if they were true, but… His speech indicated that Ravok kept a watch on its citizens, in some way or another. It could have just been blind luck that he’d overheard her murmured prayer, but more likely not.

It had also revealed that there were others who would know to keep an eye on her. She was a lost sheep, and therefore the man thought of himself as what, a shepherd? Leading his flock through the dark? She pondered that for a moment. She knew some things about Rhysol, but not nearly enough, despite having lived in his city for the past few years. Ssanya knew she would have to learn more about the deity that ruled the city if she was going to escape some day.

That was as good a starting point as any. Tomorrow, or at the next opportunity, she would visit the Temple of the Black Sun. It was a location of worship for most, if not all, of Ravok. Ssanya had never really been religious, though she had a connection to Siku, like most Dhani did. The gods had always seemed far away, somehow, though she knew they took great interest in some. The Ebonstryfer had been right in saying she was a nobody, so it seemed unlikely that her prayers to Rhysol would go anywhere other than into thin air. Still, if she understood Rhysol better, she may have more of a chance of understanding the people of the city. If she knew Ravokians, she could be better placed to convince one to give her freedom. Or she would be better able to wrest her freedom back. With these myriad ideas whirling around her head, Ssanya finally fell into a deep, unsettled sleep.


WC: 987

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