Annastasia

1st Act

1.

"Okay, we have most of what we need. Annie, do you see any carrots?"

Annie's eyes looked out across the scant marketplace, a long foot-paved road with stalls of bland-looking produce lining each side. Most of the food wasn't quite as vivid as it should have been, a sure sign that the crops weren't nurtured properly in the greying countryside. Industrialism and pollution and ongoing territorial war were starting to take their toll on the once-lush territory, and the cloudy day only made things seem even bleaker. To make sure, however, Annie looked back at all the stalls they'd already visited and forwards again before cussing something under her breath. Not a carrot to be seen. "Umm… no. None."

Her language, while euphemized, was distinctly reminiscent of a swear that one could only hear in the seediest bars. While she believed that Annie didn't frequent those, it was possible that she'd gotten either it or the watered-down version from the friends she had. Although she was expressing her disappointment crudely, (unknowing that her mother had overheard it) Annaliese didn't feel like chastising her daughter for the time being. "It's okay, Annie. We have more than enough pumpkins for the color and filler. We need taste."

Annastasia felt ill at ease. "No soup bones yet."

"Could be in the butcher's shop. It should be just ahead, right?" Annaliese remarked, knowing from memory that a butcher shop was close by. "We've been walking on the straight long enough."

Annie answered in the negative. The butcher's shop that they frequently patronized had been utterly looted and burnt out a few nights before. She'd seen when it was taking place – it was just one of several such vandalisms that were taking place recently here. This market was in Vielle, a territory just east adjacent to Meridian territory. Being among the first to join in the Renoirs' war campaign to amalgamate the entire country, Vielle was resented by many of the other territories which had immediately cut all means of support and trades with it. The little that was returning – money and resources procured in the war effort – was hardly enough to keep the entire territory sufficient which was now starting to fall apart due to its increasingly destitute and desperate lower-class natives.

Annaliese looked thoughtful as she gazed with dim eyes at the remains of the butcher shop, now a charred shell of what it used to be. The owner had long been the easily-forgiving grandfatherly type to all of his buyers, overlooking short money purses and overbearing customers. "I do hope he's alright."

"I heard the butcher's with some relatives," Annie said, trying to console her mother. "He got hurt, but nothing serious."

Annaliese stopped walking and stared down at her daughter. Although very nearsighted, she could see that her daughter had a markedly guilty look on her face, and one of childlike apprehension, having realized she said too much and put herself into trouble. "Annie! This isn't even your home territory, much less! How do you know of this? Why were you even out here? Traipsing out and putting yourself in danger? Have you forgotten there's a war going on?"

The girl's amber eyes flickered in nervous desperation, struggling to think of an excuse or to make one up to acquit herself, although she was internally upset about her mother's refusal to trust that she could take care of herself. "… I heard it from a friend!"

Annaliese was skeptical. "Did you really?"

"Yes, from Gregory," Annie lied through her teeth, trying to extricate herself from trouble as painlessly as possible. "He told me yesterday about it. It was a rumor that a lot of people were stealing from the shops over here because they don't have any money or means to support themselves."

"That so, is it?" Annaliese calmed down, looking thoughtful. She suspected that Annie was lying to her, as it was her way to lie as close to the truth as possible. She'd figure out how Annie knew later, or if she had really left so far from home by herself and willingly put herself at risk. However, one thing was clear about the butcher's shop — it probably wasn't the first looted store Annie had seen. If the crime was so bad to the point of looting, then both she and Annie were in danger from criminals, so distant from home. Though being Annie's mother and bearing grey streaks in her aquamarine green hair, both had petite builds and nearly looked alike enough to be sisters if one stood far enough away. They couldn't defend themselves if anything went wrong. Well, perhaps Annie could, but it was still out of the question – her hemophilia wouldn't allow it, and neither would Annaliese.

Being almost at the edge of the territory line, it was a seven-mile journey back to Meridian, only eased by their mule that carried their groceries. She thought she could make out the uniforms of soldiers posted here and there, and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they were there to preserve the peace. Any semblance of order was better than none. She hoped that if anything happened, that one of them at least would be easily summoned by a scream.

"Alright, Annie. Let's make haste. But let us be careful."

This wasn't much to ask for, as they were almost finished. Instead of going by lists, be it either written or memorized, what Annie and her mother did was to shop by meal. Knowing of their future meals, they would then shop for the ingredients of the meal in mind. They had nearly every meal for the next week already in hand, albeit with changes that were beyond their control. Some ingredients, if not most, were simply affected by inflation and thus affected the quantity. The others had to be completely substituted, something that was highly unusual. For as long as she could remember, Annie and her mother left the grey steel and cold stones of Meridian to the lighter agricultural Vielle to do their shopping, a territory favored for its pastures and crops garnered from well-kept fields. Her father, although being in the Renoirs' employ, said that Vielle had a far better class of people.

She had her doubts. Now, between the price gouging, pickpocketing, and children begging in their parent's stead, Meridian was looking better all the time despite its flaws brought on by industrialism. Annie tried to oust this from her mind. So long as they could get a few cheeses, the trip wouldn't be so bad. Chances were looking slim, though, as the price inflation in the marketplace was eating into the surplus money usually spent on her treats. "The soup bone's the last thing we need, isn't it?"

"Yes Annie, it is." Annaliese heard the agitation in her daughter's voice. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, mummy. Nothing's wrong."

"Annie?"

The girl shook her head, not caring to admit that she wanted to spend the rest of their money on herself. A small treat that made any long outing to Vielle worthwhile. "Nothing's wrong. Let's just get the soup bones." The streets got more narrow, crowded by vendors and customers alike, and the animal skin tarps covering the stalls became fouler and worse-made, stinking. At one point, Annie was at pains to make sure that she and her mother didn't trip over any of the stake cords in the ground as well as maneuvering around the congestion of motley customers. The smell of the tarps, the salted meat, and sweaty people haggling over substandard goods got thicker, and their progress slower and slower. Almost to the other end of the market, Annie spied a vendor, an older heavyset Gigan woman sitting on a log behind a meat-laden cart. The woman was what got her attention first, looking all around as if nervously searching for one person in particular but not finding them – which in itself was strange as she was the tallest person there, even while seated. Before her on the cart was an array of meat products, beef, mutton, chicken, all sorts of pieces from the animals including bones, all salted for preservation. A spring scale hung from a nail hammered into the side of the cart.

Finally. "Good afternoon." Annie felt weird all of a sudden, a feeling that something was extremely wrong but not knowing what it was. Gregory would know. "I need a pound of beef soup bones. Please." Annaliese bent in closer to look carefully at the vendor, not recognizing her. She must be new.

"Hello," she added to her daughter's courtesy, "a pleasure."

The higgler Gigan woman merely shrugged. With her massive fingers, gathered the soup bones and in the other, held the scale. Dropping the first into the other, filled the scale until it measured a pound. "That's eight francs."

"Eight francs? We only have Meridian money." Honestly, Annie was almost glad. Something about the woman was off-putting and any chance or excuse for boycotting was as good as taken.

"Shame. Then it's twenty canopies," she said matter-of-factly.

Annie glared at the woman. Price gouging was one thing. Forcing her own twisted 'tax' on foreign currency was another – it had never been an issue before, especially since the territories were adjacent to one another. Furthermore, foreign exchange was already easily accepted amongst all the territories. "That's rubbish! You just want to take us for all we have!"

"Annie! Hold your tongue!" Annaliese chided before turning her attention to the visibly angry vendor. "I'm so very sorry for that. She didn't mean it."

The woman's jaw was set like granite, her eyes darkening. "She can take her attitude and leave."

"No, please, we want the bones—"

"I said leave. Or are you deaf?" The higgler wasn't budging.

Annaliese nudged her daughter. Annie pouted. No. She wouldn't.

She nudged her again. No.

"Please, Annastasia, so we can leave," her mother quietly begged, almost afraid now that the Gigan could possibly become violent. With their kind of size and strength, if she was vile enough, the higgler could have Annaliese for lunch and use Annie for a toothpick. Goddesses help them if she so much as become upset – they were terrible enemies to make, for obvious reasons. "Apologize."

"But this is too expensive—"

"Just do it."

Annie gave up.

"… I'm sorry." Her normally strong tone was noticeably subdued.

"Don't sound like you are."

Annie fumed inwardly, full of hatred of the woman before her. Lording over her with what must've been a monopoly of soup bones. And there was that nagging feeling; Annie couldn't help but think that something was off about the woman's goods.

Her eyebrows relaxed, her intense amber eyes lost their ire and her mouth pursed in repentance and disappointment. It was as if all the fight and anger had washed out of her pitiable face and the Gigan could only stare in astonishment. "I'm really sorry, ma'am. I really didn't mean it. Times are hard on us, and I was just taking it out on you. Our money didn't go far enough today. There's three more of us waiting at home, and our groceries need to last us for the month."

"Just that?" The higgler pointed at their bags with a long nail. Their groceries were less than their usual bimonthly haul, but they clearly couldn't feed a family for an entire month unless it was carefully rationed.

Annie looked down at her feet in shame. "Yes. All we have left is fifteen canopies. Could you at least give us a fraction of a pound? We'll just boil it more than once." She sounded like she wanted to cry — everyone knew that using only small amounts of bones made meals taste bland and ruin meals. And she was going to use it more than once.

"Poor girl. Fifteen canopies?" The higgler's tone had a sympathetic air to it.

"Yes," Annie said pitifully, "It's all we have." The higgler seemed to pause to consider their plight, hemming and hawing about what to do.

"Alright," the market woman agreed at last. Retrieving the fifteen canopies from her money purse, Annie dropped the coins into the higgler's massive hand. In exchange, the Gigan woman, without even using the scale, parceled up a package of the beef bones and rested into Annie's hands. Feeling the weight of the bones in her hand, Annie looked up at the higgler with surprise. Whatever it weighed had to be at least a pound and a half.

"Isn't this too much?"

"Non, non, can't have you two starving to death before you come back to buy," the higgler said, a warm smile gracing her features that one wouldn't think she could have, even her under-biting canines. "It's fine." Annie tried to insist that it was too much, but the woman wouldn't have any of it. "Just don't let your emotions rule you next time, okay chérie?"

Being shooed away, Annie reluctantly placed the parcel of bones in their cloth bag of groceries, thanking the woman profusely with a radiant smile. "We'll see you next month!"

"Good to know."

They left quickly, soon emerging back into the main part of the market. Annie's smile didn't quite drop until she got to the stall at the beginning of the street where the cheeses were sold. Taking her pick of the cheeses with the ten canopies she managed to save, she thanked her lucky stars for her acting skills. It was something she took pride in – Gregory had once said that she could convince anyone that day was night.

"You little liar…" her mother said with a hint of mischief. "You're lucky that I was the one with the last ten canopies. What if she had found out we had more money?"

"Then I would've pretended not to even realize, and paid her in full. The sob story would've gotten us the extra bones, anyway."

"I'm not even sure if I should approve."

With most of the cheese packaged up and in her grocery bag, Annie sampled the rest of a crumbly cheese on a toothpick as they walked to where their mule was hitched. "How many butcher shops in Vielle?" she asked pointedly.

"I think two."

"You think a woman selling from a cart can afford to play butcher and buy salt for the meats and bones she's selling?"

Annaliese realized what her daughter was saying. The higgler was one of the looters of the butcher shop, selling the stolen wares. "But why ask for Meridian currency?"

"She never wanted Vielle currency. She knew we had Meridian money, and wanted a lot of it. She played us. I just played her better. Spent less money, got more food. You can't ask for a better deal."

"Let's just go home." They got back to their mule, hitched by the outpost manned by a few jaded-looking Meridian soldiers, and placed their groceries into its packs. While Annaliese untied him, Annie stroked the animal's neck.

"Sorry Stan, no carrots this time."

The journey, as slow as it usually was, had a high amount of tension, one that made Annie uncomfortable. Being the eyes of the pair, she walked ahead, leading Stan. Her mother was a bit behind, her hand resting on the mule's back as it carried their burdens in its hampers. Her sight wasn't so bad that she couldn't see where she was going, but the road could be rocky and uneven at times and she couldn't risk falling. "Annie. That took me by surprise; I kept quiet. I'll excuse the lying since that Gigan woman was clearly a crook. But we still need to talk about your behavior."

Annie didn't look back at her mother, pretending that most of her focus was on leading Stan around the most insignificant of holes. Oh goddesses, not again–

"Gregory and the others are not good friends to keep. I've seen how they act, how you behave. The difference keeps getting smaller."

"They're just out on the streets more, mummy, they're not bad."

"I never said that they were bad."

There she goes again, Annastasia thought. Her mother wouldn't – and would never – harm a hair on someone's head. Always ensuring that feelings were spared, relenting in arguments on what she truly meant to say. Gregory had once said that Annie's mother had a backbone weaker than porridge. Despite losing the argument to him and the subsequent scrap that took place, much to Annie's chagrin, Annaliese took it upon herself to invite Gregory for supper the following evening and fed him porridge until he felt self-conscious enough to apologize. Her mother was the kindest and gentlest person she knew. It made her pitiable in a lot of ways in their society, but it made Annie want to protect her. "They don't have much and they're always on the streets, I admit that," Annie said, trying to defend her choices of company, "but they know more too, mummy. They know how to handle themselves."

"They know enough to teach you how to curse?"

Annie shook her head vigorously. "No, no–!"

"Annie, you're smart," her mother entreated, almost begging, "and your father taught you, and you have so many more opportunities than they do. You ought to be the one teaching them. It could be anything. Teach them constellations. Teach them how to find their way around using the stars. Even teach them how to read."

Her mother sounded particularly wistful at the last. It was a sore topic. Born and raised humbly in a coastal territory, she was as illiterate as her parents who had no use for the written word. Her vision was just bad enough to dissuade her from trying to learn in adulthood, and that left Annaliese dependent on her family to read to her. It was equally burdened on Annie and her father originally, but now more heavily yoked on the former due to Conon being drunk more often than not. Annie, fortunately, was able to teach her letters and syllabification, but Annaliese had a self-imposed stigma for not being able to read and write as well as her husband and daughter. Not having the faculty gave her a better appreciation of it, but it also made her place higher value on Annie and what ought to be her standard for the friends she kept.

"Last I saw them with a book," Annie said with a shrug, "they were burning it to drive away the mosquitoes. They're not the type to appreciate a book the same way we do."

Annaliese looked thoughtful. "It's always been my belief that friends should emulate their betters. Pick up good habits. Help one another to succeed. But all they seem to do is drag you down. Take you to places where you have no business being in."

Annie didn't answer. It was better, safer this way. All the responses coursing through her mind would only give way to an argument she didn't want to have. After a long silence, however, she asked the most painful one that she couldn't hold back, knowing that her mother thought the world of her as well:

"If I'm so good, then am I even allowed to have friends?" Annie wasn't sure she wanted to be placed on a pedestal out of the reach of her friends, no matter how undesirable, unkempt and uncouth they could be. And to what end? Locked and cooped up at home, just to be under her mother's wing for the rest of her life?

What kind of a life was that?