All The World's Evil: The Scapegoat
"Fruits, Vegetables, and some specially seasoned seaweed, get them all right here at Ocean's Edge!" A vendor called her wares, much like the countless other hawkers who had set up shop beside her. Some sold accessories, made from monster bones, others sold basic necessities like her to ensure a steady income, and more still sold themselves as mercenaries and odd job workers. This was how it was every day, from before the sun even began to peek over the horizon, and to after it had decided to lay to rest for the next 12 hours or so.
"What are we even doing here Histoire? Didn't we already go grocery shopping yesterday?" A young woman inquired, tilting her head to the side as she placed an incredibly slender finger to her delicate lips while looking up. This had the effect of pouring her waist-length mane of luxurious indigo hair to the side, allowing the setting sunlight to sparkle off its rays in an exquisite fashion, demonstrating the immense-quality of her hair. Her eyes gazed up towards the slightly clouded sky, as she attempted to figure out the reason her partner had dragged her into such a… pit hole. Her lovely, heart shaped face turned sour as she walked through the throng of people.
This was no problem, as the people mad way for the two in reverence, bowing ever so slightly as the pair passed before continuing on their routine. While one of them hadn't so much as paid a glance at them, the other made an effort to make glances and smiles, however meagre. Soon, they stopped.
The reason? It was simple really.
There was no more road to walk on.
The pair had walked through the market square form one side to the other, eventually reaching the geographical border of the place, which was marked by a sheer cliff face that stood proudly at 870 meters above the crashing waves below it. It was a drop that would prove fatal to anything less durable than a CPU and their counterparts.
"Why don't you look over there? I think there's something you should see" The woman name Histoire avoided the original question, and instead opted to point to a lone shop hawker that had set up shop just before the precarious cliff face. The woman 'pointed', but her arms as tiny as they were, had little visual significance, forcing her partner to slowly align herself with the arm to find just what the blond fairy was indicating. A fresh sea breeze blew past the two when the indigo-haired lady spotted the lone vendor and her wares, wiggling the blonde's hair while making the other one's seem to flow.
She gazed at the vendor, who seemed rather young to be even allowed outside without supervision, let alone working. Her features were obscures by the incredibly dirty and worn purple cloak she wore. It was patched up in many places with purple fabric of varying tones an unaligned stitching, indicating that they were done by hands that had never touched needle and thread before that period. Some were of better quality that the others, while most seemed to have been redone several times, indicating much maintenance of the article of clothing much more suited in an incinerator due to biohazard suspicions rather than on a person.
The cloak did not, however, cover her hands and feet. They were small and slender, bare and dirty, scarred and scabbed, compact and taught, thin and fragile. Her bare feet shifted from one limb to another upon the naturally sharp stones that made up the village, reddish-brown stains littered the area, indicating constant bleeding at one point. Her visible skin was as fair as the snow that covered Lowee all year long, but they were marred with scarred tissue on all sides, leaving little untouched.
The ragged cloak left the bottom of her face exposed, it showed an impossibly sharp chin, full lips, tender cheeks, and fair skin that showed no scarring or even dirt. There was not much else exposed under the protection of the concealing garb, unless you count the girls' sickeningly thin frame as one.
How did she know it was a girl?
It was simply, her voice.
"Fruits, Vegetables, and some specially seasoned seaweed, get them all right here at Ocean's Edge!"
Her diminutive voice and figure might have been drowned out if she had set up shop closer inland, but by locating into such an unwelcoming area with little competition, she stood out like a purple eye sore. Her voice was like a wind chime that had given way to rust, light, but with a clear indication of extensive use. No male, even a child would have a voice of such pitch.
The little girl saw them, and waved a diminutive hand at them to get their attention, not that they needed it. There was no one else off this sharp cliff edge selling their wares, and they wouldn't bother even if there were. There was no reason to wave them over, at least not one of them.
She'd come for her specifically after all.
"Hi Miss! I grow all types of fresh produce myself! If you want to order anything, I will pick them and return after an hour. It helps keep them fresh." Her smile was genuine, not just from potential profit, but simple human interaction. As proven when Histoire returned the beaming girl.
"Ah, there is no need to be so formal. Anyways, how much can we order at a single time?" Histoire asked as she floated over to the smiling little hawker, her fairy-likeness enchanting the child as she flew just out of arms reach.
"That would depend on whatever stock I have remaining for the month. You see, I plant normal vegetables and fruits, as well as Legumes, which you may know as beans and peanuts. I interchange them as they are sold, so my soil remains fertile all-year long. So, to answer your question, I have a minimum of 50 units of most local produce you could want." Her explanation was exceedingly complex for such a small child, and the fact that she (or so she claimed) could farm so much was simply extraordinary."
One of them decided to put that claim to the test.
"I see, then I'd like to order 50 units of everything you have" This time it was the tall woman who spoke, her slated eyes were closed and her luscious lips curved into a very strange smile.
While the girl smiled impossibly bright at the prospect of such a sale, Histoire seemed to pale to an unhealthy degree at her own perception of the situation.
"Alright Miss! That would amount to a total of 50 M Credits, where and when would you like to have it delivered?"
"Here's my address and my name, Just be sure to tell anyone who stops you my name." The tall woman handed the purple themed child a seemingly blank card, who looked it over with a confused expression on her lips "It will show itself when you pour salt water on it, and as a show of good faith, allow me to make a 30 M Credits deposit right now."
The tall woman tinkered with an unseen device, before a loud beep sound could be heard from the little girl. She took out her own unseen device and seemed to gasp is surprise at the number.
"Come Histoire, we're done here" Her cool speech was a great contrast to her original attitude, as if she had finally found something that she had coveted for a very long time. The way she dusted off some imaginary lint off her lustrous sailor uniform indicated a form of smugness that just couldn't come from regular mortal, "I really thought this trip was a waste, but to find such a 'gem' like that in this garbage dump… I have no regrets coming here"
"Um, it's not like I'm complaining or anything, but why are you so happy after such a large purchase? I though you liked to haggle down prices or even play 'that' card to get it" The fairy woman inquired, her nervousness had not completely disappeared from the earlier exchange, for reasons unclear even to her own half-formed suspicions.
"Oh, silly Histoire! Did you really think so low of me?" Her laugh made the common citizens around her smile with great happiness, but it made the Oracle shiver and fumble with her tiny dress. The smile she gave, the strange twinkle in her eyes, her posture… it all seemed so wrong. As they left the village's orders though, her entire being darkened considerably, her eyes narrowing dangerously towards the cowering Oracle, "Do not ever presume that I am the same as that woman. Am I understood, Oracle?"
Even if no one knew the context of the conversation, any one would run at the potency of the hatred that within those two words, sizzling away like acid.
Even if it had been countless millennia since the event that gave form to her grudge, she would never forget.
"Of course, please forgive me!"
"Do not fret, my Oracle. It was simply a slip of the tongue." Her mood then took an 1800 turn into an innocent smile, no one would ever doubt. "This CPU forgives you"
All The World's Evil: The Scapegoat
Her hands shook, dropping the card like it was a poison tailored specifically to her rather than a business card her client had given her. The platinum-leafed, high-end business card landed on the same table that the sample of her fresh wares laid on, face up so she could still see what was written on it. She wanted to back away from it, but there was little room to move unless she wanted to take a kilometre dive into the rocks below. Even that seemed quite appealing to the task she had been given.
"No! I have to do this… if not for myself, then for my daughter"
With a wavering resolve and paling features, she closed shop hurriedly. Taking apart her stand into its base components and securing it into a trap door she'd dug for the next time she would set up shop, the purple cloaked girl walked home to set up the delivery to a seemingly eager client. In her left hand was a loosely held business card partially soaked in seawater.
As the setting sun made its way down to rest and various day hawkers changed with those who worked a night, a single ray fell upon a jewellers wares, where it reflected upon the loosely held business card, illuminating its contents for a moment. No one saw its contents, but it was just enough for someone to see if they did look. They would then see the following:
Nepgear, CPU of Planeptune
Basilicom Floor: 100 Z-01
First Trundle Street
"I'll be looking forward to our meeting…"