Operation Bosco: New Arrivals, II
It was sweltering out and only minutes before, there was something of an interest going around about heading down to the creek, not to bathe, but to just splash in the water some. This was mainly stemming from Xavier, who'd made the mistake of still going through with the workout regime that had been left behind for him to follow. Miserable from the heat, he'd suggested the idea to the others and, while prospects would have been a quick no before, they had a new member now.
Locke.
And he was kind of what they were missing.
Maybe.
If he was anything, the guy was rather good-natured. He was an open person, willing to befriend most anyone. He could easily go from juvenile joking with Xavier to nodding along seriously when Shae spoke to him. He seemed to have easy rebuttals to Richards attempts at riling him up, something both Shae and Xavier lacked.
It felt like a good fit.
So when Xavier suggested they all go down to the creek, to at least try and escape the heat, yes, it was at first completely disregarded by the others, but when Locke, who'd been sitting on the porch steps and staring at the treeline in the distance, waiting, jumped up and immediately declared he was game, well…it swayed the others a bit.
It'd be nice, anyways, Shae thought, to dip her feet in the cool, running water while Richard was already scheming about how he was definitely going to be holding someone's head under the water (for fun, of course).
Locke was thankful though, for his slight hesitance. He went back inside, to grab a drink, and it was this delay that made sure they were all still standing around, when someone could first be made out, approaching in the usual way, from the back of the house.
There was a loud groan, from Xavier, as he'd already tugged off his shirt, there on the porch, but knew now that any chance at some frolicking in the creek was out. Whatever had gone on in Bosco, obviously, would overshadow his desires. This seemed true as Richard, almost immediately, lost his jolly look and instead leaned against the porch railing, silent, while Shae stood at his side with folded arms, much the same.
When Locke stepped back out onto the porch, he almost dropped the glass in his hand. His stomach had been in knots, after all, since his girlfriend's departure and he was glad to see it come to an end.
It hadn't been too long, that they'd been parted, but still, he found himself jogging out into the yard, to meet Astra, the only one visible so far, halfway. She carried herself with the same confidence she always did, seeming to look through him as their eyes met, and Locke couldn't help it. He grinned, boyishly, as he called out to the older woman, still jovial for the moment.
Back on the porch, as Xavier grumbled while slipping his shirt back on, the others still all stood, watching the exchange before them as Locke, at first, spoke loud enough that his voice and question carried its way back up to them. This changed quickly, however, rather than walking on once she got to him, Astra stopped before the man and they seemed to be having a rather terse conversation.
It was obvious even from a distance.
Richard had started forwards already, bounding down the porch steps, right about the time that Locke seemed to lunge at the woman, bunching the fabric of her shirt in both hands as he pulled her closer, yelling something at her. Everyone rushed then, towards the confrontation, as Astra only tried to shove him off.
"Where," Locke growled about the time that Richard came to pull them apart, "is Haven?"
"I told you," Astra insisted with a frown as Shae stood between them and Xavier, who was confused, stood off to the side, conflicted, "that she stayed behind in Bosco. She-"
"Bullshit," Locke insisted as Richard had to wrap a tight arm around the guy, holding him back from the woman. "Haven wouldn't fucking stick around Bosco."
"Wasn't the entire point in her coming to get to Bosco in the first place?" Astra retorted.
"Not without me."
"I offered her a chance at further work while there and she took it."
"You left her alone."
"I," Astra retorted, standing tall now as he only glowered over at her, unable to break the hold Richard had on him, "had an opportunity present itself to further the work we're doing in Bosco and seized it. I'm not going to apologize for it. And I highly doubt she would either."
Locke's struggles ceased then as, with narrowed eyes, he said, "She told me she'd be back, so sorry, I don't buy it."
"Believe what you want. But if you ever touch me again, I-"
"I'm going to find her." He delivered a sharp elbow, suddenly, to Richard, which made the other man release him with a swift intake of breath. Shae, the only one between him and Astra then, held up her hands in front of her, as if cautioning him over coming any closure, but Locke only glared around her, at the other woman. "I'm going to Bosco and-"
"How? Locke?" Shaking her head, Astra said, "I won't tell you where she is. Why would I? So you could jeopardize our mission? Not to mention the hassle of getting in there-"
"I told her I'd never leave her in that place, alone. Again."
"She went willingly and purposefully. I imagine she won't be gone long." Astra turned slightly then, dropping one arm out of her knapsack to dig around in for a moment. Pulling something out, she said, "Here."
Locke's eyes widened at the sight of the necklace he'd given Haven and, though he saw Shae tense, he easily ducked around her (she wasn't really attempting to hold him back, honestly; she seemed rather apprehensive over the whole thing as well) to go snatch it away from Astra.
"She wanted you to give this to me?" he asked, not even looking to Astra for an answer. Turning from them all, he stared down at the blue gemstone with a frown. It felt like a lifetime ago that he wrapped another necklace around his wrist, as a promise of the woman's return. Clutching it now, he took in a ragged, harsh breath before remarking, "If she's not back soon, I'm going to fucking get her."
"If you go," the other woman threatened to his back as, he stomped off, "and ruin my operation, Locke, you'll be sorry. And your Master will hear about it."
He didn't respond, continuing on with little concern, disappearing into the forest quickly. Xavier, after glancing at the other three, took off into a sprint, after the other guy, and though Locke shoved off his arm when he tried to toss it over the other man's shoulders, he didn't send him away.
Just the three of them then, Richard let out a slow breath before remarking, "Where's the blonde really, huh?"
"Exactly what I told him," Astra huffed with a frown up at the man. "Something came up while we were in Bosco and I told her she could stay behind to take care of it. Why is that so difficult to-"
"What," Shae asked slowly,"came up? And what were you guys doing there in the first place?"
"What do you think we were doing?" the other woman retorted. "We were trying to spread the word about the new objective."
"You're sayin' an awful lot to say so little," Richard said and Astra turned a cold stare onto him.
"You're the one that told me she had connections to Ewing," she replied. "It's the only reasons we went. She knows the manor and, now, she's going to stay behind and continue what I sent her there to do. She thinks that we need to focus on getting the prisoners to turn against their jailers? Fine. She can get that going. She came from a fucking guild; she can take care of herself. I'm not her fucking babysitter. And you're not mine either. Don't you morons have anything better to do?"
It popped back up, the contorted grin of Richard's, eyebrows raised as he informed her, "Was goin' skinny dippin', I think, 'fore you went and broke the lock. Well, now, guess it's for the better, eh? Wouldn't have been much fun, all sticks. But me and you-"
"Not much interest in dick." She made a face as his grin only spread. "Thanks."
"Open offer, Astraea. Never expires," he called after the woman as, finally, she'd head back up to the house. Watching after her, he laughed some before looking to Shae, "For anyone."
But she didn't acknowledged the man, not truly, as she stared after the other woman. Softly, she questioned, "Something's up."
"Something's always up." Richard's laughter died then, abruptly, as he ran a hand over his course, brown beard. "Better that way. Stops it from gettin' too borin', huh?"
Things were boring though. Or standstill, at least, still, back at base. That first night, Astra locked herself away in a room and Shae cooked dinner for herself and Xavier, the teen only arriving back at dark, seeming kind of down.
"Did he take off?" was all Shae questioned in regards to Locke, expecting this. "Xay?"
"Nah." He slumped down in his rickety kitchen chair, staring down at the plate before him with a frown. "He's by the creek. We hung out there all day."
It was night then. A crisp one, not a breeze to be had. The crickets had reemerged finally, around the same time as the cicadas, and they seemed to be battling it out that night, for who could disrupt the otherwise still night more.
When Shae stepped outside, it was with a plate in her hands. She could hear Richard whistling, somewhere in the distance, as he took first watch, but it wasn't to him that she brought the meal. No. In the pale light of the moon, she walked purposefully through the freshly cut grass (it had been part of Haven's regimen for Xavier to get that taken care of) with little fear. Even as the moon disappeared behind clouds and she entered the forest, Shae only ventured on, knowing the path well.
Locke was sitting by the creek, as Xavier had said, knees to his chest as he glared down at the water trickling passed.
"Here." Shae came to present him with the plate and, when Locke only turned his head, to stare at it, she made a face before adding, "I just walked all the way out here to give this to you. So-"
"Thanks." Still, after taking the plate, he only sat it to the side.
Frowning, Shae took a seat beside him, silent. Xavier had played this game for the majority of the day with the man, to no avail, but it only last a minute or so between the two of them. After a deep sigh, Locke seemed ready, finally, to expel.
"I just don't know why I thought," he whispered softly, "things would be any different. Now. If we came here. I-"
"So you really think she chose to stay behind? In Bosco?"
"No." He shook his head though, at his own words. "I mean, yeah, she might've. Well… I don't think the person that she is, that she's been, for the past few months, would do that, no. But… This is the exact type of shit she'd pull before."
"Before what?"
But Locke only glowered out into the night, replying simply, "If she's not back soon, I'm going to fucking Bosco. I can get through the border under normal means. There's nothing that they'd flag me for. Then I'll go seek her out."
"You don't even know where she is," Shae reminded him. "Bosco's pretty big. Not as big as Fiore, but it might as well be, in this case. And Astra's not going to tell you."
"It doesn't matter."
"Then how will you find her?"
"Because we're connected." When Shae was silent, no doubt thinking he was being ridiculous, he only insisted, "We are. We always have been. I can tell when she's near me. It's a magic thing. If you're around someone enough, you can sense their magic against someone else's. I know when my father's in the guildhall, even if it's full of other people, before even opening the doors. I can sense when my mother's going to knock on my front door. Because you can sense it. But Haven and I's goes further than that. We're completely in tune with one another. If I have to tour around the whole damn country, until I feel her, to get to her, then I will."
Shae was looking at him then, he could feel it, but didn't want to return her gaze. Instead, he only blushed some, knowing he was being a tad melodramatic.
"Some shitty shit happened to Haven," he explained. "Once. In Bosco. And I always told her I'd come for her, if she needed me, if she got caught up again. I can't just… I don't know, you know? If she decided to really stay behind or not. I wouldn't think she would, without me, but… If she gave Astra this necklace," he said as he held out a hand then, gripping the chain between two fingers and allowing the gem to tumble down and hang between them, "to give to me? Then fuck, she might really just have decided to stay. She's done it before. So what am I supposed to do, huh? Either I go there and help her, if she needs it, or I fuck it all up, because she doesn't need me. Why does she always fucking do this shit to me? She constantly gives me impossible decisions. Or puts me in the place to make them."
"Astra told us, after you left," Shae offered then, "that Haven's just trying to restart things. For us. But among the captives now. And it's not a bad idea. I mean, I probably could have done just as well a job, even if I'm not familiar with the manor, but-"
"Hey, I guess I never really said anything on that." He dropped his hand then, still clutching the necklace, as he looked down at Shae. "I'm, uh, sorry that Haven kinda took your spot. And then was shitty about it, on top of that. She's, uh, special, yeah?"
"To you," Shae remarked and he couldn't help it. He grinned.
"I know you don't like her," he said. As the woman tensed thoguh, he said, "Don't worry; most people don't. She's kinda, well… She's spent a lot of time being a really shitty person and is trying to fix that, but-"
"It's not even that. At all." Looking him in the eyes, she said, "I just get a…bad feeling. When I'm around her. The air feels thin and it's kind of choking. I know that you're girlfriend or whatever, but- It's not funny. I'm being serious. I-"
"No, it's not..." He couldn't help it, Locke couldn't, as he snickered fully then. "Haven doesn't have a lacrima, like her father does. It's how Master Laxus keeps electricity stored in his body for use. So he taught her to filter out the static that's naturally in the air, at all times. To keep a steady stream going in and out, so she can use her magic at any time. It makes the air feel different, when she's around, yeah. I mean, you'll probably end up hating her too, most people do, but at least give her a chance to bring you to that point."
Shae still seemed uncertain, but she accepted his reasoning, all the same, shrugging her shoulders a bit as she said, "I, uh, loved a girl too. Once. Back home. She knew magic too. Not a lot of people do, there, but she could take stone or a boulder, even, and just hold out her hand and it would start to crack and form things. She'd make little statues and things, for her mother's garden. I'd help her paint them. We made, like, this whole lore about it. She crafted these big stones into these ornate looking gods, with headgear and funny markings, and we painted them and put them up around the garden and… I guess that sounds lame. You guys were mages, so-"
"It's not lame." He forced a smile for her. "It sounds like a cool power."
"It was." She smiled as well, truly, ducking her head a bit as she said, "Not a lot of people knew magic, where we were from. Her father taught it to her."
"Where are you from?"
"Joya," she answered easily. "It's a lot different there. In my country. Magic's not as abundant and even lacrimas are in high demand."
"How'd you end up in Fiore?" he asked and, it was with her own sigh that she began.
"Bosco's just down river from us," she answered softly. "My mother and I were on the coast, together, a few years ago, when it was attacked by slaver boats from Bosco. They rounded everyone up. We couldn't fight them. Who would? The city patrol? They'd never been this brazen before, no one expect this. It was...awful. I…"
"You don't have to-"
"I want," she assured him, "to tell you. So you understand. I know that you're just here because...I dunno. Your girlfriend wants to be here, to help, or your master told you to do it, but this… This all means something. To the rest of us. Something serious. We all have connections to that fucked kingdom. Bosco. Other Kingdoms know they do things like this and they facilitate it, rather than provide aid. Assistance. Everyone's so afraid of war among the kingdoms, but when you've seen what they do there, when you've lived through if… I understand the value put on your own citizens lives and the fear in expending them, but what about the lives of those who are trapped there? Destroyed there? Branded like cattle. The second you are, you mean nothing, you know that? Who thinks of us? Other than us?"
This hung between them for a second or two and even the crickets and cicades seemed to surrender their songs to the moment, while Locke's mouth only felt dry as he told the woman, "I'm sorry. I never… We don't really grow up thinking about it and you're right, we should, but-"
"Don't be sorry, Locke." She held out her arm then, before him, tracing a finger in a specific design over her brown skin. "It was right here that it laid. The mark that signifies how little you matter. I thought about cutting off my arm, once I escaped the place I was held. That I'd either bleed out and die, or survive and be allowed over the boarder, since they couldn't prove it, right? That I'd ever even had an arm? I just wanted to get away. So badly. So don't be sorry. I wouldn't think of that place either. If I didn't have to. If I didn't know I had to. But now you know, just like me. It's what you do now that matters, right?'
He blinked a few times, down at the water before them, before nodding. Then, softly, he asked, "What happened to your mother?"
"I dunno." Looking away, she said, "We were all separated. All of us. When we were first captured. I...I like to think that she escaped too. Eventually. Not that she found a group, like this one, but that she escaped back home and she's there and… But I keep searching. Bosco. Every single time I'm able to get into the country. For her. I can't spend too much time there, I'm always afraid I'll run into the man who owned me, before, and that he might recognize me or… But if she's still there, suffering… I went back home, to Joya once, to see everyone and they know to send word to me, to come find me, if she ever returns to them, but…"
"Maybe she is in a group," Locke suggested as Shae sniffled down at the ground. "Out there. Just like this one. In a different Kingdom. And she's trying to find you."
"Maybe," she whispered back, disbelieving. "Sometimes I feel like a bad daughter. For not continuing to search for her. Every single day. Risk capture and just-"
"Your mother wouldn't want that." Locke sighed. "I don't know her and I don't really know you that well, I guess, but… I just know she wouldn't. And you know that too, don't you?"
But Shae was shoving up then, remarking down to him, "Eat your food, Locke. And get some rest; you're on last watch tonight."
He wasn't hungry though and, as she disappeared back into the forest, he only sighed one last time, now down at the necklace he held in his hand. The moon peeked back around from the clouds overheard and, when he held it just right, it caught the light the rock provided, the same way Haven's eyes did, when she was excited about something.
And he liked to think she was that way, wherever she was, in that moment. Winning people over to her side, laying the ground work. There was a bigger picture, after all. Than their relationship. And while this felt like a step towards the old version of herself Haven was so intent with showing him she no longer was, he felt like he could concede the necessity of time. While it felt unlimited for them, there were many who this was no the case and, to think that Haven should delay her efforts for his benefit did feel rather selfish.
They'd delayed their assistance and gaze towards suffering for long enough. If Haven was doing something combat it…
But she wasn't.
At all.
That first night, she didn't even know that Astra left. She was part of the silence now, doing as told and that was fine, maybe, because Astra was clearly schmoozing the Ewings and that was fine. That was whatever.
She'd thought that she'd come and get her though. When night settled over the manor and the others trapped in their silence, save a few, were resigning back to their bunk house on the property. But Astra had requested that she stay with her, so Haven, having had no one really give her any directive, resisted some, when one of the other women grabbed her arm and started to lead her out to the back of the property.
"No," Haven insisted, the first words she'd spoken in hours and, ugh, it had been killing her. But she knew she had to play along, at first, to at least somewhat gain the trusts of the others. Had Astra not instructed her to stick close before, she might even have followed without complaint, but… "I'm supposed to stay with-"
"Your old master has left. You've been sold." The other woman's voice soft, as to not be overheard. "Come. We'll show you to the-"
"Sold? N-No. What?" Jerking away from her, Haven shook her head. "I can't be...sold. I was never owned. I… Fuck."
And she didn't understand. Not yet. But when she tired to protest and run back through the kitchen, to go find Astra, to get these sorted out, one of the other women, a bigger one, came to grab her arm tightly, forcefully and glare at her with dark eyes.
If Haven acted out, after all, there was a good chance they could all be punished for that and, clearly, no one wanted that to happen. Neither did she. Not really. But she was panicking then, a bit, and as she was shoved out the back entrance, one of the men, baring the same marking they did, came over to grab her and force her into the barracks. She was babbling now, trying to insist to them that this was a mistake, and when he grabbed her, she'd tried to shock him, to shock them all, but it died off in her palm and fuck.
Fuck.
She'd been tricked.
She was shoved into the barracks, tripping some in her struggles over the warped wooden planks that the floor consisted of. Shoving up, she was welcomed to the sight of bunk beds, stacked three high, rows of them, crammed all together, filling the makeshift building. There was one window, but the glass had been broken out. It usually was tapped over, the entire thing, to conserve heat, but summer was upon them then and, as Haven stared at it, the broken pane was something of a blessing, as it allowed a stiff breeze to waft into the otherwise sweltering tinderbox.
It made the safe-house look like a paradise.
She'd never been here before. No. She knew what it was, who it housed, but her short time on the Ewing property had been spent elsewhere.
"It's alright. Take a breath."
One of the women of the man that rose, when she was thrown in, rushed from where she'd lain on a mattress, over to Haven. Sitting up on her knees, the blonde was looking with wide eyes at her surroundings, not properly breathing, but quickly, her gaze was filled with the sweet smile of another.
The woman was her mother's age, at least, her face dirty and filled with lines and wrinkles, aging her greatly. Still, when she smiled at her, Haven at least took in a breath that wasn't immediately expelled raggedly.
"It's always hard," the woman insisted in a soft tone as other women entered, filling the barracks up, "the first time. Is it? Your first time? Or-"
"I'm not...one of you," Haven tried to explain, but none of her thoughts made much sense because, fuck, fuck, why would Astra do this to her?
"But you are," the woman insisted and one of her hands came up to run a finger across black tattoo that stained her arm. "This is hardly the worst place to be. The manor and property are so large, if you keep your head down-"
"Look at her, Kira." Another woman, who seemed unconcerned with Haven, was climbing up to the top of one of the bunks nearby. "You know as well as I why she was brought her. I saw who brought her in. Another from one of the top families. Don't fill her head with lies."
"I don't belong here," Haven continued to insist though, to the woman before her. Because, though she'd managed to escape before, once, she'd seen what her fate would be, had she stuck around. "I'm from Fiore."
"Yeah?" came a call from another woman in the barracks, but the voice felt disembodied as Haven's eyes only searched the ones of the woman directly before her. "Welcome to the club."
"I'm from Fairy Tail." And she tugged down her shirt a bit, Haven did, revealing the insignia. It wasn't there, before, to save her, but now, surely… "They'll come for me. My father-"
But the woman only reached up to gently shove Haven's hand up, hiding the marking. Patting her hand, she told her, "Rest. The nights feel so short here."
Haven didn't want to though. She couldn't. Her chest felt heavy and she wanted to run, she really did, but she knew without her magic that she'd only be captured. Easily. So, when the other woman finally stood, Haven didn't join her. Only crawled across the floor, to the tight corner of the barracks, where she buried her head in her knees and just tried to breath.
It was difficult.
None of this made any sense. Not really.
Astra had brought her here on purpose. To what? To sell her? Why? Why her?
Richard.
Richard had told her that she had connections with Ewing. But so what? She hadn't gone into any details to him. And she was telling the truth, when she told Astra the man probably wouldn't remember her. She was of no value to him. At all. They interacted for a very short period of time, many years ago.
And Astra seemed to be pleased, anyways, when Haven told her that he wouldn't know her. Wouldn't recognize her. Was that just part of the ruse? And what was the ruse anyways? She couldn't return back to the safe-house alone. No way. Locke wouldn't stand for that. Even if she made up some sort of bullshit reason, he'd still dig deeper. If he didn't, her family would.
While Fiore seemed content with ignoring the barbaric nature of Bosco, they couldn't ignore the kidnapping of a guild master's daughter. Fine, Laxus wasn't the master anymore, but he might as well be. He was a top mage, at least.
His name meant nothing in the lands, but merged between the two kingdoms, it had to still hold something of power. And if he knew he was here, against her will, missing or captured…
So what was the ploy?
The whole time?
Astra had spent years at this, hoping to free the slaves and right the wrongs of her kingdom, so why sell Haven? Had she reverted? That felt a bit ridiculous. She couldn't have made that much, off the exchange. So what? Would she not go back to the safe house? At all? Just restart her life in Bosco, or elsewhere, from the Cicles she had made?
If she didn't return to the safe house at all though, Locke would still come for Haven. Of course he would. He'd threatened as much. A week. She imagined he'd actually give it a few days, but still, she knew he'd come for her. Astra had to know that as well.
Did she just not care? Or was this part of it? She knew Haven just had to survive long enough for the others to come for her and that, in the end, she'd find herself the victor, having sold something that couldn't be owned, and making off with the money from it.
The whole thing felt rather convoluted. Far too much effort for far too little reward.
So what then?
Huh?
Why had Astra brought her all the way out here just to betray her?
Haven didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she was rather harshly shaken awake.
Her neck hurt, as she blinked in her dreary surroundings, the stench of the place quickly giving her a sobering reminder of just where she'd landed herself. Trapped.
"Kitchen wakes early," a woman, around her age, who'd been the one to shove her awake. "It's your assignment for now."
She felt gross and groggy, Haven did, and still wasn't rightly resound to her surroundings, but what the woman told her the night before made something of sense. Until she figured out exactly what was going on, it was best to lay low.
Regardless of Ewing's plans for her.
There seemed to be something of a hierarchy, among those slaved, with the men mostly working outside of the property, on the land, while the women were either kept inside or, a select few, seemed to be person maids to the daughters and mother. Haven knew though, of a far worse place in the manor and tried to put it out of her head, think about other things, as she scrubbed at the floors and mostly attempted to fade into the background.
It was tiring. Not that Haven would admit this, aloud, of course, as she was certain her duties for the day, done only once, for the first time, hardly held weight against the others amassed. But for all the physical training she'd put in, after her death, nothing quite reached this level. It was monotonous, an understanding that there was no quite way out of it, no ending. She didn't have anything to look forward to. Only back. And even then, she imagined when you were here long enough, that faded as well.
Then what?
The day seemed to crawl by. After having not slept well for the past few, Haven was craving somewhere to lay her head and, while the women were fed halfway through the day, sitting in the kitchen, she realized just how hungry she was as well. Her panic before had overridden these desires, but she was so fucking hungry now.
When she lived away from Fairy Tail, out on the streets, around her seventeenth birthday, she learned hunger. Well. It wouldn't be until, after Bosco, when she fell in with the treasure hunters that she started earning some at least somewhat stable income. Eating well again. But those days from before still hung with her and she imagined, as her meager portion did little other than stop the pangs, that if this wasn't all over soon…
But surely it would be.
It had to be.
She was angry. That day. The first one. She spent it doing as directed, but nothing more, and she seethed in the silence they were all thrust into, not watching much of anything, caring for anybody.
That fucking bitch.
Fucking bitch.
Astra had led her here, left her here, and for what? Huh? Some fucking Cicles? She never should have trusted her. She wouldn't have trusted her, if it weren't for stupid Erza, sending her here in the first place. Or Locke, insisting that they go, rather than just fucking off, that they stay in Fairy Tail. Because he wanted to be in Fairy Tail. What the fuck did Locke know? Nothing.
Then she was mad at herself for thinking that way, because Locke never did anything wrong to her, at all, and Erza was tying to find a way to make amends, be thoughtful towards her hesitance to stay, but enabling her to do so, to be around her family again.
And her family would come, because of course they would, her father and mother and uncles and aunts and her sister, even, could hold her own here, now. Maybe. But Locke would certainly be there, soon, to help her out. To figure this all out.
Then they'd find Astra and bash her skull in.
Because now she was upset at the woman all over again.
This cycle played itself out many times through the course of the day and, by the time it was over, Haven didn't really give a fuck about much else. She merely fell into the first free bunk she found, not really giving a shit who it belonged to. It reeked, like everything that wasn't a part of the manor did, but that didn't matter, none of it mattered, because her eyes were heavy and she was exhausted and it would be better, surely, when she awoke.
But it wasn't.
Days had no meaning and she had better learn to adhere by that rule.
The second felt much like the first, the third no better, but it was by the fourth that she recalled something.
Astra had given her papers, to hide away, and disperse. Why? Again, this felt far too elaborate just to be a ruse.
She had papers prepared for a reason. What was it?
Though the thought gnawed away at her brain, Haven wasn't easily able to find out. Astra had instructed her to hide the papers away and, though she had, it was near the guest chambers and, seeing as she mostly worked in the kitchen on the opposite side of the manor, felt rather inaccessible.
But she only had to agonize for a day and a half.
One afternoon as she was busy helping peel potatoes for dinner, she and one other woman she was working with were instructed to go scrub the main hall floor. There had been a spill of some sort and Lady Ewing wanted it thoroughly cleaned.
The other woman she was with, Neeve, was a slight woman with a tan complexion, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. She'd been on kitchen duty for the duration of Haven's time there, but like most everyone else, said very little. Still, she seemed to know what to do at the suggestion, instructing Haven in that silent nature they all seemed to adopt with ease on where to get the specific buckets and cloths for this.
The main hallway spanned the width of the building, stretching into a deep hallway on both sides. At its center, where the main foyer lied, there was the bottom of the staircase, grand with a bit of a curve to it, leading up to the rooms.
Upstairs was where Haven needed to get and she wasn't quite sure how she could pull it off.
There was so much she'd do, usually, in such a situation, if she was just slightly more certain of the outcome. The one thing that she did know with absolute certainty was that if she were to be discovered out of place or snooping around, her punishment wouldn't just be against her. No. If someone stepped out of line, should they catch any of the manor's inhabitants in a bad mood, there stood a chance that they would take it out on the whole group of them.
Haven had experienced this on the third day. Not personally. Distanced. One of the men from outside had been caught dozing off and they were all whipped for it, the men outdoors. Inside, the women were informed of this by one of the actual, paid workers, their overseer of sorts. He threatened the same happening to them, should they be found doing the same, and Haven thought, when her family showed up, she'd have her father pummel him in particular.
Thoughts such as these got her through the day, honestly. Imagining it. Her father electrocuting some, her mother's claws ripping to shred others. Mostly though, she thought about what she would do, to Ewing, before this was all over.
She saw him once, just in passing, a glance in the right way at the right time. He passed by the kitchen entrance way, once, when she'd first set to work, but she hadn't seen him since. Still, the idea enacting her revenge, delivering an electric fist right into his pompous jaw, the bones cracking from the force of her own, and it would just feel so cathartic. So freeing.
So…
She had to stare down at her tattoo, her marking, as she scrubbed at the floors. It was always right there. Mocking her. They weren't quite kept in rags, not on the Ewing manor at least, but just basic, bland clothing. It itched, the shirt did. And Haven still wore her same bra she'd came in, now filthy and uncomfortable. She was thankful now, for her necklace having been taken from her. Even if Astra had fucked off with it, at least it wouldn't end up in the hands of one of the Ewings.
Or worse; considering it's low value, probably just tossed.
But it meant a lot to her and, may times throughout the day, she'd raise her hand up, to tug at it, but alas, it was no longer there. Nothing was. Except for the hideous marking that marred her arm, her catching glimpses of it, randomly, surprised each time at its presence. A reminder, honestly. Truly.
She'd have fucked out of here, by now, if she were able to. With her magic. But she'd let Astra trick her and now...now…
Now, she had to sneak up the stairs. Somehow. Risk getting caught. Getting the others, completely innocent people, in trouble. Beaten. For a shot in the dark. What if the papers were gone? Found and gone? What if Astra had only been teasing her, knowing she was planning on doing this and they were just filled with nonsense? What if they were exactly what she thought they were and, still, it changed nothing?
What then?
Haven felt out of sorts. Like she was someone else. Like she'd been someone else, for too long now, and that she just had to get over it. Her hesitations. The old her, the one that had been entombed and reborn, that would have been fighting back, against all of this, regardless of the outcomes, no matter who they were turned against or towards. The only thing she knew back then was struggle. If a situation got tough, you fought against it, lashed out, broke down as many walls as possible, tore through the rows, until the goal was in sight.
But the new her knew, better than her younger self, the cost of such a thing. Somethings can't be fought outright. Can't be faced head on. Or else you ended up like she had, dead and cast away.
There had to be other ways.
And yet, as she stared up the long staircase, she realized that she wasn't wholly a new person. Not really. The older her, the younger version, it was still there, beneath the surface. And it still laced many of her decisions. She hadn't truly locked part of herself away. It intermingled with all her other decisions. Shading and guiding them.
There was no reward without wager risk.
When Neeve disappeared down one end of the darkened hall, scrubbing diligently, Haven was quick to push her luck. It late afternoon, which meant the daughters were all down in the garden and, more than likely, their mother was as well. Most of the hired help didn't roam around the upstairs if it was otherwise empty. The only other person to worry about was Ewing himself, but from all she could tell, he hadn't been around since she caught a glimpse of him that day.
The upstairs should be mostly clear.
Mostly, however, was the problem.
It was dark upstairs, only the hall lights on, and Haven moved quickly, knowing there was no playing it off if she were caught. She needed to be fast and efficient.
The guest chamber was down another hallway that branched off, completely unlit. Right outside the chamber, however, was a table of sorts, atop which a tiny sculpture set, a bust of some long dead man. When Haven had opened the drawer the first time, she noted its emptiness and high amounts of dust, taking it to meant that it was rarely used. On a whim, she'd shoved the papers in there, facing downwards, hoping they'd never be found.
Heart in her chest, thumping wildly, she flung open the drawer and was relieved to find the small stack of papers were still where she'd set them. Snatching them up, she flipped them over, knowing it wasn't safe to stay for long, but she just needed to know, to see what she had missed, to understand, to-
Someone was coming.
Haven could hear fast footsteps beating against the floorboards, but as she was moving to duck into the nearby guest bedroom, someone turned the hallway corner and it was Neeve, the woman she was working with, who came rushing right over to her.
"I was just-" Haven tried, holding the papers to her chest, but those weren't the concern of the other woman. When she reached for the blonde's arm, Haven tried to move away, but Neeve was insistent.
"You can never," she insisted, tugging on her arm, attempting to drag her away, "be alone. You must stay together."
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I was just-"
"You must," she insisted and her accent was so thick, Haven had to listen closely to understand, "stay together."
They weren't missed, thankfully, downstairs and the second they made it back there, Neeve only got back to work. With a moment to consider the consequences, Haven now saw the irresponsibility in having the papers out in the open and did the best she could, crumbling and folding them, to fit into her pockets or somewhere on her person.
It was an uncomfortable few hours.
When they ended, she took off for the bunk house, but didn't go inside. Rather, she walked around it, to the back, where she sat down with her back pressing against the wooden siding and slipped one of the papers from her pocket.
It wasn't much.
Just a single page, a copy of a handwritten decree in tiny, feminine print. Astra's, Haven imagined. It was four, concise paragraphs, the first detailing the point of the, so far, nameless group, intent on making direct change in the kingdom. The second described the groups motives in this, hoping to be spread among those most oppressed, who could help lead in the change. The third told vaguely of balancing your fear over this matter and recognizing direct change is the only way. The fourth, final paragraph was just a few lines, ending in a communication lacrima address.
Haven read it over and over again, as if trying to find a code, some sort of hint or explanation for why Astra had left her there. Ditched her. Sold her.
But there was nothing. She pulled out all the papers, all with the exact same copied writing on them, and there was no hint no little message scribbled on the back of one. Astra hadn't left her with a mystery; she'd just left.
Leaving behind nothing.
With a slight sigh, disappointment began to pool in her stomach and Locke would still be coming for her. Soon. Very soon. She knew this. So she had nothing to be afraid of. At all. With his help, she'd probably not even need her family. The two of them? What couldn't they do?
Again, her hand came up to her neck, but there was nothing there to grab. When she slammed her arm down, dejected, her elbow smashed against the wooden paneling that lined the base of the barracks and fuck, it hurt, but more importantly, the board she hit caved in, just a bit.
She had so few wins the past few days. If not weeks. But as she rubbed her sore elbow, something seemed to click in her mind and, though there were others milling around, no one seemed to be paying her much attention. She was old news now.
Turning slightly, Haven was able to pull out the board she'd dislodged, finding a hollow space between it and the proper foundation the barracks sat upon. Quickly, she shoved all, but one of the papers into the hold, positioning the board back to it's proper position.
When Haven rose, it was with the realization that she'd stayed out for too long. The bunks were all filled up, when she made it inside. Which was fine, honestly. There wasn't much room to do so, in the slight cots, but many women did double up,, when it was necessary.
As Haven's blue eyes traced over who she thought might be willing to allow this and, eventually, they landed on Neeve, her partner from that afternoon, who seemed to already be snoozing. Slipping in beside her, Haven was cautious about waking her, but this didn't seem to be a problem. The woman didn't move. Not in the slightest.
It was hard though, for Haven to find the same sleep. The same peace. She just kept thinking about the note and, at one point, even pulled it out to glance over with the dim light of the few lamps that hung on the walls.
She had to be missing something.
Short of Astra panicking, at the last moment, and just throwing her to the wolves, Havne couldn't imagine her putting all this work, all this effort, into something with the intent of it not producing anything. So what was her game? What was her ploy?
It was written in a strange way. The entire flier. Not once did it mention directly slaves, masters, or anything of substance, really. No mention of the word revolt or any specific details in how that would take place. It only spoke of finding hope in one another and to spread the word of change among peers.
Haven imagined it was so, if discovered, it wouldn't be directly tied to anything in specific. Couldn't be definitively declared propaganda or revolutionary filth. Mostly, it just felt like an empty promise. No directive or true intent.
As her eyes grew tired though, she found herself focusing heavily on the last paragraph. The one with the lacrima address. It was the most puzzling.
She thought perhaps, Haven did, that it was the name of the business in Fiore that Astra had used, back near the safe-house, to make the copies. Some sort of business watermark of sorts, but that didn't seem right. The name listed beside the lacrima address was Lambent Waves and that didn't sound like any copy shop Haven knew.
And what was its purpose, anyways? If Astra was intending for her to spread this information among those being held captive, then what good would a lacrima address do them? None of them had access to a lacrima. And if they did, Haven doubted they'd ever use it for such a risk. There had to be a reason she'd put it there.
But why?
Was it for Haven? What benefit would it have for her? Huh? Astra had sold her; she had no more access to a communication lacrima than anyone else. Was she supposed to be attempting to get her hands on one? Was that it?
Was that the message?
And what was Lambent Waves anyways? It sounded familiar. Or, rather, it read familiar. As if she'd seen those words pretend somewhere, before. Recently. But she just couldn't place it.
Just as she was starting to drift off though, a sound made her sit up. A wailing, getting closer, and most everyone in the bunk house jumped when the door to it was thrown open. But it wasn't someone out to harm them, to punish them. No. It was one of them, in fact. A woman Haven didn't rightly know (she didn't work in the kitchen, at least), but recognized, anyways. Clothes disheveled and torn, her eyes were filled with tears and her face was swollen, heavily, on one side.
When she stumbled in, some of the women rushed to grab her, pulling her further inside, while another only took a glance out the door before slamming it back shut. She was sobbing now, the woman was, and some shied back, but those who'd come to her originally only helped her over to one of the bunks, shushing her softly.
"Never be alone."
Haven felt a cold shiver run through her, as she turned away from the sight before her and instead to the woman in the bed beside her. Neeve did shy away or run to help. Just sat up some, at the commotion, and watched.
"You must," she insisted to Haven," stay together."
As tired as she was, the blonde found that night it was rather difficult to fall asleep.
No one spoke on the incident, the next morning. There didn't seem to be a need. They all got up, when they were supposed to, and did as they were told. Even the woman who'd come in crying so heavily. There were a few extra glances and some sighs, but their silence was upheld.
What other option was there?
None, it felt like, and maybe Haven would have agreed, the day before, but now she was distracted. Had something to think about. Mull over. Something that didn't lead directly into anger and self-pity. The fliers meant something. That last paragraph, Lambent Waves, meant something. She was just...tired and hungry and struggling to put it all together.
That's all.
She wanted Locke then.
Not for all the other reasons she wanted him, but because he'd be able to figure it out. Or Navi. Marin wasn't too dumb. Someone other than her, who was used to deep considerations and thoughts, should be there in that moment. Thinking these things over. Not her. This wasn't her place.
Or at least it hadn't been, maybe. In years past. But now…
Haven took a sharp intake of breath, when she nicked her finger, slicing onions. It was hardly the worse pain in the world, but it was sudden and her knee-jerk reaction was to jump back, from the counter, growling some while squeezing her fist closed.
She couldn't have timed this more poorly. One of the henchmen, who seemed to have some dominion over them, was stalking through the kitchen then and, at her motions, started to make his way over, a dark look in his eyes, but someone got to Haven first.
It was Neeve, dropping what she was doing to come grab Haven by the elbow and quickly walk her over to the tiny alcove, where a shelf of spices hung. While Haven tried to fix her face, attempting to get pass the discomfort slicing her thumb has caused her, Neeve produced a rag from where it hung from her back pocket.
When she held it out to the blonde, Haven only moved to snatch it, holding it against the gash. The pain felt moot now, but when Haven glanced out of the alcove, she saw the man still lingering around as the other few women stationed around the kitchen pretended to be busy with their work.
She wanted to say something. To Neeve. But the woman merely shook her head when Haven opened her mouth and it was just as well. The man would be barking at them soon, if they didn't return, and the rag was probably filthy, not exactly the ideal thing to clot your wound with, but it seemed to be the best option at the moment.
In the bunk house that night, Haven found her eyes falling over most of the women. She'd never given a hard count before, but she did now, including in it the two she'd seen out behind it, both silent, but seated together, seemingly watching the sun disappear beyond the mountains.
Haven felt like she needed to start taking more responsibility. Initiative. While she was still certain of reinforcements, she also still at least somewhat reverent of her original decree; for true change to come, for Bosco to actually see the light, it would have to be those forced into the dark, silenced and dejected, that brought it there.
But…
She still was the only real wizard around, it seemed. One without her powers, fine, but what difference did that make? It wasn't her magic that made her who she was; it was so much more. She was a leader with or without it. Of course she was.
Had she been born some lowly civilian, no magical background, she'd still rise to power in some way. Lord her other strengths over others in some manner. And here, now, with people who'd already given up, accepted their fate, she was the one that still had some. That still could believe in it.
It was more than just finding the fliers.
Haven had freaked out, at first, when she realized that Astra stabbed her in the back, but that was done with now. She'd had a few days to adjust and, with the aid of having something to distract her mind, she now was going to get back to her core reason for coming. It was never to join Astra's dumb band of idiots; it was to help Bosco.
And though it might not seem like it, she felt like she was in one of the best positions to do so currently.
"I thought we weren't supposed to be alone?"
Neeve had seemed surprise, to find Haven join her outside. She was standing over the trough, the water inside of it no longer fresh. No. Everyone would be out there, for it, if it had. The men would make their way over soon, the ones who worked out in Ewing's fields. They'd bathe in the old water, splashing it over their bodies and at least trying to get the sweat and sweat to stop clinging to their sun dried flesh. Only then would they be allowed to dump the trough, only to fill it once more, nice and fresh. Then the women would come out, right before bed, to drink the fresh water and at least attempt the same, as the men, from before.
"Only a moment," Neeve remarked as she dropped the ladle back into the water, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, a slight blush gracing her tan skin. "I like it better. Before so many-"
"I understand," Haven assured her, looking down into the water, watching the wooden ladle sink down to the bottom of the metal tub. "I wanted to ask you something. Alone."
"Your thumb?" the other woman suggested, but Haven only shook her head.
"No, It's..." Haven was rarely at a loss for words, but somehow, during all of this, she'd never actually considered how she would do it. Broach the topic. With people who were suffering, had been suffering, and no doubt had their own opinions and thoughts on the situation, feelings and… "Before I came here, I was working with a group. Through my guild. Fairy Tail. Back in Fiore? It's aim is to free people. Free the, well, the..."
And it was hard. To say. The word. Slaves. It felt so demeaning and demoralizing. Gross, really, plainly, was what it felt like, to say it. Standing there then, Neeve felt so much more than the term. And Haven hardly even knew her.
"Here." And Haven moved then, to pull the flier out of her pocket. "Look at this. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense and that this is really weird, but we could do something like this. We could-"
Neeve turned then, at her words, rushing back into the bunk house. Haven was confused by this reaction and followed after her. But the other woman only crawled into a bunk beside another and, well, it's not like Haven expected to hit it right out of the park on the first person she approached or anything.
Well, she had, but decided to chalk it up to a learning experience and only went to find a place to sleep for herself.
The next morning, Haven thought to try speaking to Neeve again, as so far she'd seemed to be the only person to take a real interest in her, but the woman only stared blankly at her when she tried to speak to her, before they exited the barracks that mornings and she avoided her the rest of the day, making sure to never be paired off with the blonde.
Haven tried to put the other woman out of her mind, reconciling that there were plenty more to reach and she was certain, the way she always was, that her next attempt (which she was definitely chalking up as her first, really, when you thought about it, because the other time was just a practice run. She needed to get her feet about her. That was all.
But it didn't seem to be a good day for that as when the light just began to peek around the mountain pass, there was a bit of the commotion in the house. The Ewing daughters seemed to be hurrying about and Haven even spotted the lady of the house, hissing at some of the other women stationed around the house. She wanted the place spotless, she claimed, more than usual, and Haven was only catching a glimpse from the kitchen doorway, but something about the way Mrs. Ewing's face contorted almost appeared demonic.
Mr. Ewing was returning. Haven wasn't necessarily surprised to find out he'd been absent from the mansion, was at least somewhat disappointed in the fact she'd wasted this time by not accomplishing much of anything, it felt like.
It also served as a stark reminder of how much time seemed to be passing. She forced herself to stop thinking about after the first day, but oh, it wasn't slipping past her just how long it was taking for them to get to her. Her family. Or Locke. While she was sure she wasn't doomed here forever, she couldn't help but begin to feel antsy once more, a heavy bile climbing into her throat at the realization that, no, she hadn't been forgotten by Ewing; rather, he'd been away.
And now that he was back…
Now that he was back…
He was going to be accompanied by another. One of the other men from a top family. This meant that everything had to be in top shape. Which, along with extra leaning, for the silent members of the household, this included bathing, actual bathing (well, with soap, anyways), and dressing in considerably nicer clothing. For the women, this meant dresses.
Lady Ewing came out into the back of the property, where they were ordered to strip and bathe, out in the open, passing around bars of soap and using fresh water in the trough. Haven had grown up around bathhouses and hardly felt embarrassed by her body, but in this context? It was different. Even though every other woman there, naked and attempting to cover themselves, most of them, as if ashamed of their nudity in the bright light of day, was in the same boat as her, Haven found a shame she'd never rightly known before. One that was unfairly being trust upon her.
She was yelling and snapping at them as well, the lady of the house was. Clearly, her husband's imminent arrival was bothering her. Knowing the man in the limited capacity that she did, Haven couldn't say that she blamed her.
And it was stupid. Dumb. To be so bothered by something so minuscule, but fuck, when they had to change into those dresses, Haven hated it with an equal, burning passion as she always did. It felt childish and silly, especially when she had so much more hanging over her head, but she just couldn't help it.
But she was thankful anyways, as she struggled into the one thrown at her, as it gave her something to escape into. To hide herself, finally, from others.
It was as she was doing this though, straightening the dress while hoping to avoid that gaze of Ewing's wife, when someone took to standing near her. Another woman. She was trudging into a dress as well.
"I heard what you said last night. To the islander." The other woman, stout, short one with cruel eyes, was avoiding looking directly at Haven. Still, it was to her that she spoke as she pulled the dress over her body. "Free people. Us. Do you really have some sort of a plan?"
Haven was surprised by the forwardness of this encounter, but when she took a good look at the woman and thought, she did recall seeing her, she thought, one of the few other women standing outside the bunk house the previous night. Still, she was slightly hesitant, as she said, "Yeah. Kind of. I'd never more people involved though. And I'm still trying to, uh, get back in contact with my home base about it all, but-"
"I'm in." And she said it with such ease, the other, nameless woman did. "Whatever it is, I'm in."
"Great." Haven couldn't help it. She felt herself grin. It was a small one, but the feeling of victory, in such a place, felt almost overwhelming. Running a hand down her side, she started to say, "Let me just give you-" but the words died in her throat because she wasn't wearing those same, itchy pants she had since arriving.
No.
Those, at the moment, were being dunked in soapsud-filled barrels, across the yard, where they'd stripped down originally, as some of the already dressed women were washing them. This was under the direction of Lady Ewing as, no doubt after this guest departed, they'd be right back to wearing them. Haven's heart only sunk momentarily though as, realizing her pants would definitely be completely soaked, she knew the paper would be smudged and unreadable, should anyone untoward find it afterwards.
Still, this proved a problem in the current moment and, it was with a bit of a sigh, that Haven told the woman, "I have the fliers hidden. That detail it. If you meet me, tonight, behind the barracks-"
"I'll be there," the other woman assured her and then she was quickly dispersing, dressed and following the command to line up, for those who were, the pair's conversation already lost in the hustle and bustle of preparations.
Haven started to feel better about herself.
That was the problem. That was always the problem. It only took a little glimmer, the smallest sliver, for Haven to start to feel in control once more. As if she'd already won. But there was no control here. There was no winning. How could there be? She kept falling into these false sense of security, ideas that she understood what was going on, had a handle on the situation, that even if she didn't, she'd quickly regain it when her family arrived, but this wasn't Fiore.
This was Bosco.
And it didn't belong to the fairies.
Haven ribbed hi for it constantly, but her boyfriend's adage of everything always working out was kinda lived by her as well. No matter how bad things got, even to her lowest point, six feet under, she still rose above it. Just to get here. Right where she was now. Sure, she was back on a down, but someone was interested in joining up and the wheels were beginning to spin, she just knew it, on helping people.
On helping herself.
Work was busier, but still felt the same. Grueling and tiring. Avoiding the leering gazes of Ewing's henchmen, who seemed to have grown in number at his approach, and for some of the more unfortunate of the silent women, it meant putting up with the Ewing daughters and getting them all pampered and pressed for their mystery guest's arrival. From what Haven overheard, there was something of a fuss between the oldest two, as the man seemed to be on the market for a wife.
So they were all extra bitchy and Haven, for once, was glad to be stuck in the kitchen, prepping food and scrubbing pans.
She also heard some complaints, though slight and whispered, from her fellow workers. Dresses, as one woman put it simply, felt like far too easy...access, and the way the henchmen were openly leering at them now, Haven imagined it didn't rightly matter if they were alone or all together; the night wasn't going to end well for someone.
Ewing arrived around midday with his esteemed guest and things sorta calmed down. Or at least everyone who might hand out a beating or harsh rebuke was too busy to pay much attention to anyone not stepping outrageously out of line.
Dinner was served in the grand dining hall that night, to all of the household members and their guest. The obvious tension in the mansion had reached its peak and, instead of bubbling over, seemed to be evaporating back into the typical unease that hung over the property.
When she was scrubbing at the after dinner mess of dishes and serving trays, Haven could hardly contain her excitement for when she could get out to the bunk house, where she'd be able to share a flier with that woman. It was all consuming, the thought fo it. She was convinced that all she had to do was talk to one person about, get one person on her side, and then it'd be all over for Ewing and his cronies.
But then it happened.
One second she was scrubbing idly at a dish, trying hard to keep her eyes open, when she felt a presence behind her. And not one of the other women. No. Just as she was turning to address the person, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and it took everything inside of Haven not to slug whoever it was. Everything. She could feel the electricity surge inside herself and she had to bite the inside of her cheek, knowing it would only be worse for her, possibly destroy her hopeful plans, if she were to do something aggressive now.
She'd claimed she could handle it, being undercover. And though she was hardly that now, far more in line with one of the actual prisoners, she still had to keep herself in check.
"You," the man seemed to decide as the blonde turned her gaze up at him. It was one of the henchmen, as slight smirk on his lips. "Ewing and his esteemed colleague need someone to bring them up drinks and some snacks." Then he nodded, over to part of the kitchen counter where a tray sat, glasses, liquor, and a bowl of some sort of nuts placed atop it. "Take that to his personal study."
It felt like everything stood still. Like she was being presented with a choice. At the time, Haven thought the feeling deep in her gut was nothing more than nerves, over seeing Ewing again, something to be forced down, that she'd come to terms with before she even left Fiore. It was something different, an instinctual thing.
Her fate on the manor had felt rather sealed, the second she let Astra lead her there, but somehow, as she lifted the tray and headed to Ewing's study, this felt far more the defining moment. It could be coincidental, them choosing her. To bring the drinks. Pure chance.
But when she first arrived, the other women seemed so certain that she was there for a reason, that she'd been purchased by Ewing for a reason, and Haven believed in that. That everything that happened to her was for a reason. A purpose.
It just normally swung in the positive direction, when she said it.
She was chosen now. Picked. By Ewing, specifically, to bring in the whiskey, and she almost forgot to knock when she got to the door. Balancing the tray against her hip, she managed it though, getting a stiff and gruff grant of entry on the other side before taking in a breath and opening the door.
His office was as impressive as the rest of the house. Built in shelves housing rather old looking tomes. A desk of a glassy ebony, thick and hearty, atop which sat an assortment of things. The window behind it overlooked the front of the property and the mountain ranges surrounding it. There was the scent of cigars, two actually smoldering on an ashtray among the assorted things on the desk, their scent taking Haven aback when mixed with the alcohol.
It almost smelt liked home. The bar. Even her own damn house, sometimes.
Ewing looked as he always did, imposing and brooding as he stood before his desk. The man he was with though, who he'd been talking to only moments before, was walking about it seemed, eyes tracing the bookshelves and hardly glancing at Haven.
But there was another person with them. A woman. She looked about Haven's age, with dark hair and thick rimmed glasses that she adjusted as she looked over the other woman. It was foolish, of course, the way this put her at ease. Lulled her into a false sense of security. Just the sight of someone of a similar age, who looked at her, rather than through her, seemed to actually
He ignored her though, Ewing did, continuing on his conversation after only a glance, with the other man as the dark haired woman stood to the side, silent. Observing.
"Stay," was the only thing Ewing said to Haven as, after setting the tray down on the desk, she turned to do the opposite.
Haven froze at this, her back turned to the man, but he only continued on with his conversation, just as he was.
"I thank you anyway, Alwood," Ewing remarked to the other man, who only kept his eyes on the books. "For accompanying me back. I wish your visit could be longer-"
"I appreciate you putting us up for the night," Alwood assured him with a bit of a laugh. "It's always a treat, to visit your estate. To visit with your wife and, of course, your lovely daughters..."
The younger man trailed off while Ewing only looked then to the dark haired woman. To her, he questioned, "What time are the two of you expected to leave in the morning?"
"I hoped to get us in the carriage by sunrise," she remarked as she looked down then, at a little black planner she held in her arms. Flipping to a certain page, she remarked, "I have allotted enough time for us to-"
"In any event," Ewing cut her off with a sharp glance. "I believe it is time for you both to retire, Alwood. Early to rise and all."
"Yes," he agreed, drawing the word out though a hand did come up, to snag a book off the shelf. "I don't think you'll mind if I take this to bed, hm? Some light reading."
"Light, huh?" Ewing snorted with a shake of his head.
"All things are in the eye of the beholder," Alwood retorted, but then he was looking across the room to the dark haired woman. "You are right though. My assistant here doesn't like it too much, when I keep her up or out for too long. We'll retire to our rooms now. Best wishes, Ira."
He never looked at her once, this Alwood fellow didn't. But his assistant, after nodding at Ewing, did catch her gaze one last time, as she departed from the room with her employer.
Haven had only stood there, silent and with her back turned to Ewing, but even as the door shut and they were alone, he didn't speak to her. Just took to picking one of the cigars up, to take a puff, with snuffing the other out in the ashtray. Then, his attention turned to the liquor she'd brought in, twisting the top off the bottle and pouring a light amount into the stout glasses.
"Turn around," was finally his command and she wasn't biting her tongue any longer. But she wasn't exactly shaking in fear either.
No.
Haven was stuck in this strange state she hardly ever got to. Where she knew it was futile. To resist. To do anything. Other than what the person requesting something of her wanted. This was a rarity from the blonde, something she hardly ever found herself doing. She always barked back, even the new version of herself she'd been touting recently, but there was none of that here. There couldn't be.
And, again, if she ever wanted to actually help anyone, then she was going to have to be someone else. Act like someone else.
Plus...here, on the Ewing estate...she kind of felt like someone else.
She did as he asked, a beating in her chest, and she knew she could take him. She should have taken him, that first day she ever saw him, when he was abusing those men all those years ago. It would have saved her from all of this, at least.
There wasn't fear in Haven's belly, as she turned to face the man. There was resentment and anger, a deep desire to destroy him, but not fear. She had to pretend as if there were though. Give that same doe-like look her sister had given her, for all those years. Terrified. She wasn't quite sure she was pulling it off- Until he made a new request.
"Drink," was the single word uttered and, for a moment, she thought she was confused. That someone else was in the room. That he was speaking to. But as the man continued to fiddle over the tray, hiding it from her view, he ordered once more, "Come, take this drink."
But she didn't move. She felt frozen. She knew, of course, as most anyone in that situation who wasn't a completely naive moron exactly what would happen if she followed this order. There was no way she was doing it. No way. It was definitely laced with something.
But she was still trapped. At least somewhat. She wasn't supposed to be some awesome mage from Fiore, bent on taking the man down; she was supposed to just be a normal, unfortunate women caught up in his underhanded nightmare. Not to mention...with her magic sealed inside of her…
The man wasn't that old, honestly. Nowhere near frail. She might be able to take him, but all of his henchmen that were lingering around the property too? And then what? Before, she'd run off through the mountains, starving and freezing as she traveled through their peaks, fearful of what awaited her if she stopped and rested for too long. Eventually, she found the man that Evergreen had set her up with, after hiding her branding and asking directions, but it had been a risk and one that Haven wasn't so confident she could accomplish again.
Plus...when she ran before, it was after only witnessing very few of the horrors the manor contained. Now, after having lived them for a time, she couldn't abandon the women she, well, not exactly knew, but certain was growing to.
She'd come here to save them.
If she bailed and rescued herself, then what did that say about her? About her ability to ever do what she'd set out?
"You won't drink it then?" Ira snorted, down at the glasses, before lifting both his hands. Rubbing his right wrist with his left hand, he said, "It would be easier on you, but fine. Filth. You don't deserve it anyhow.. The lack of realization. You should feel it all. Remember it all. Did you think I forgot you?"
He turned to look at her as Haven took a step backwards, and it all felt like too much. Like she hadn't been ready. Like she should have listened to Locke, let Shae go in her place, not allowed herself to fall into all of this so fast, because she wasn't ready.
She wasn't ready.
Her death had been one of the most traumatic things she'd experienced, but it was hardly the only. She'd buried this, drank until she'd forgotten it. Fucked around until it didn't matter. Bosco was in her past and, when she'd look down at her arm, it wouldn't have the mark anymore, the burning, searing symbol of her time abroad.
She lied.
A lot, honestly, but to anyone who asked. Locke. Ravan. Her family, once they found out, in the interim between her resurrection and Locke's trials. She told them that while in Bosco, it hadn't been that bad. That she'd gotten captured, battled her way out, and that was it. That was all.
But it wasn't.
And she'd had to relive it, when her memories were parade before her. In limbo. The horrible, awful decision to go there. Every fucking second of what had happened to her while she was there.
It hadn't...gone that far. Too far. But Ewing had been close to…
And it wasn't that bad, she always told herself, for that reason. She hadn't been...raped, so it wasn't something that she should think about or feel poorly over and it was all just something that happened, in her distant past, and it was getting further away from her every single second, and if she just lied about it enough, about how it wasn't so bad, about how Bosco wasn't so bad, her time there wasn't the worst of her life, then eventually…
She'd believe it.
And maybe she had. Started to. Believe that those nights locked up in the mansion hadn't been the worst of her life. That it was okay. No, not okay, but… It didn't matter.
There were just so many other things to focus on, to give attention to.
It stayed with her though. Bosco did. Followed her. And it was difficult for someone raised to think they were meant to save others, people beneath them, who weren't able to help themselves, to reconcile what she'd seen. What she knew was going on.
A complex. Maybe. Good-intentioned, but poorly executed. Haven wanted to save people, the women, in particular, who weren't going to be able to reconcile with themselves that it had been close, but not all the way, and that it was okay, because they could just put it past them, they could just go back home, to Fiore, and pretend it didn't happen. They could drink and bum around, fuck around, and if you filled your mind enough, muddled it enough, with other memories, with other sights and excitement and maybe you could forget.
The way that you did, sometimes. Not for long. It was never for too long. But maybe, one day, as time faded away...you would. Completely.
But it couldn't for the ones still trapped there. On the property. In Bosco in general, honestly. Her life was a constant stream of failing upwards and while she did feel chosen, she did think she was blessed, to know that there were others who weren't as fortunate…
Of course she had to go back.
Of course she had to try and help.
But how could she? As she stood now, cowered, really, and noted the slight trace of a white tinted glow begin to fall from the tips of Ewing's right hand.
"That woman… Kolines' daughter… I don't know where she found you. Or where you've been hiding. What luck is it then? That she would be low on cicles and, thinking of a quick way to amass a high amount, brought me her little plaything. What coincidence. Fate, almost? Hn." He made a noise then, in the back of his throat. "Tell me then; what did you do with her?"
"What are you talking about?" Haven questioned, holding a hand up then, as if to caution him not to come closer. Knowing that he recognized her...that he knew who she was… But it seemed confused, as to her being there. Or at least hadn't guessed the situation properly. She thought this might work to her advantage. "Do with her?"
"Her," he repeated, annoyed now, voice tight. The intrigue he'd had in knowledge died off into overt disdain. "Kolines' daughter. Depraved. The youth. It corrupts. But it has brought you back to where you belong, so I suppose I cannot outright denounce it. Besides, we all have our weaknesses."
The hand rubbing at his wrist dropped the other suddenly and, when he jutted it out towards her, Haven reflexively tensed, expecting whatever he shot at her to be reflected by her force-field shield, but of course, this didn't occur. Her magic was sealed away.
But it didn't matter.
Rather than a blast or a magic circle appearing before the man's hands, the white dripping only seemed to increase, magical energy floating into the room.
Haven could admit she was a bit slow at times, when it came to understanding things that weren't blatant, but she doubted there was much she could have done, had she noted the man's intentions right off.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice slow as she stumbled a bit, falling out of her tense, defensive stance, and she was fighting it. She fought everything. But his magic… "Some kind of...spell or-"
"Give into it," she suggested as, with his free hand, he picked up one of the glasses to take a sip. Dark eyes standing on the blonde as she swayed, once, twice, three time, before falling with little ceremony. "I warned you though, did I not? This could have gone much smoother for you."
She knew she was fucked now, if she closed her eyes, if she didn't force them back open, but there was just this intense, overpowering feeling that she just needed to sleep. To rest. Her poor schedule relating to that only aided the spell, she was sure.
As her eyes drooped close for the last time, Haven was certain, finally, that no one was coming for her.
Why would they?
You only got to march into hell so many times before the gate locked behind you.
.
The days felt long, every single one of them. More than before. Locke sat on the porch step every single day, watching the horizon, and now nothing could drag him away from it. He hadn't made a hard and fast rule for when he was going to go after Haven, but time seemed to be getting closer to him making his decision and, one day cloudy day, as a light shower passed over them, while he sat on the porch steps, still waiting, Astra chose to make a rare appearance and join him.
Locke stifled, just from the woman's presence, but when she sat beside him, he physically seemed to recoil. While he glared straight ahead then, Astra only sighed before resting her chin in her palms, looking out at the downpour with the man.
"You have to believe me, at least a little bit. Or else you wouldn't be here right now."
This, finally, got his dark gaze on her, but Astra only continued to stare out at the rainfall.
"It's the truth," she insisted. "Admit it. If you thought that I was lying, that your girlfriend had volunteered herself to stay behind, then you would be out there right now, looking for her. But you're not."
"You," he retorted with a frown, "don't know anything about me."
"Personally? No, of course not." She even shook her head. "But as a man? Yes, of course I do. I know a lot. You think that Haven needs you, don't you? You're wrong. She's just fine, out there on her own. She might want you, but she doesn't need you. And even if she does, she'll be better for it, coming out the other side without you. How could she not be?"
"We're stronger," he retorted, "together."
"Maybe. I doubt it," she assured him, "but maybe."
"I don't think you understand," he told her then, holding his head higher, "where I come from. Fairy Tail. If Haven doesn't come back and I go out there, but can't find her, or find out that you did something to her, then-"
"Why did you come here, Locke?" she questioned instead of respond to his threat. "Because your master told you to? Your girlfriend? Or because you actually know the history and pain and hurt of Bosco? Because that's why I'm here. That's why I do what I do. My goal is to change my country.
For the better. Where does your alliance lie? Your motives? If it's just to bag a woman, there are much easier methods."
"Fuck you."
"Fine." She stood up then, making a face down at him. "Don't talk to me. But you're not going to sit around all day, waiting on your girlfriend, on my property. Put your anxiety to good use. Richard has an idea for the old barn that might pique your interest."
He let her leave, not glancing after the woman as she disappeared back into the house. And he didn't follow her directions. Not in the moment, at least. It wouldn't be until the next morning that, as Richard bounded down the porch steps passed him that morning, Locke got to his own feet and followed after him.
"Na-ah, loverboy," Richard warned as they walked across the desolate property until they got to the haggard old barn. "Don't bring any of that sadness to me, eh? Ain't got no room for it."
"Astra told me you needed my help," he replied as they looked over it. The barn. Faded, old red paint with white accents, chipped and rotting in places. The barn doors had fallen off their sliders and, from the crooked view they got into the interior presented the same decay. To Richard, Locke said, "I'm just trying to help."
"Speakin' to Astra, huh?" Richard was moving then, to fully pull the barn doors off their hinges as Locke spied the tool belt wrapped around the older man's waist. "You already got you a woman. Stay away from mine."
"I wasn't- You and Astra are-"
"Nope." He was being rather cavalier, with the door, tugging at it, hoping to break it fully from its old sliding mechanism. "She ain't, uh, into the Dick, unfortunately. Not just me, of course. But in general."
"Then what?" Locke stood back, unsure of how to assist in the moment, though he did watch with a careful eye, certain, somehow, that this was going to injure the other man in some way. "How is she your...woman?"
"Women who reject all men? Outright?" He snorted, Richard did. "Just ain't found the right man. Astra's warmin' up to the idea. Takes some time with some women. That's all."
"That's a really shit world view," Locke told him bluntly, still only observing. "And really not true."
"Is that what happens when you get in a serious relationship these days, huh?" Richard was tugging harder at the door, hoping his brute strength would free it. It was with a bit of an exasperated gasp that he questioned, "You turn into a little puss- Ah! Shit."
Locke hid his grin into his palm at the sight of Richard doubled over, holding his own face. One of the roller attached to the top of the door had finally flown off, bouncing right off his face and into the grass at their feet. It smacked him right between the eyes, hard enough to draw an immediate welt.
"I'd help you out," he remarked with a bit of a shrug. "But I'm such a-"
"Don't need your help no how." He rubbed at his welt, Richard did, before lifting his head and trying hard to grin and bear it. His smile, however, just didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Already shaken off."
The immediate issues that had to be addressed with the bar, as far as salvaging wood and beams, to do patch jobs, as well as clearing it out of junk that seemed to have been stored in there, which seemed to preoccupy Locke for a few more days. Xavier helped out in this process and even Shae came around a few times, mostly to just roll her eyes at whatever comments Richard made.
Locke found himself thankful for the distraction. And for a place to escape Astra. Once the place was cleaned up a bit, he found himself actually sleeping out there, in his sleeping bag, to escape the tension in the house. There was some fear of mice and such, which they seemed to be disturbing with their construction, but somehow it was more peaceful.
Haven was adjusting to a new sleeping arrangement as well. A life arrangement, honestly.
It was in confusion that she first awoke, a pounding head and sore body doing little to aid in this. Her recollections were fuzzy and, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness that surrounded her, Haven was having a hard time deciphering where she was, even.
When she tried to move her hand to her head, the motion wasn't languid, like she expected, but rather fully restricted. This seemed to sober her quickly as, tugging at both arms then, she found them bound, chained to the wall, slight raised above her.
She was chained up. Beneath the manor.
This realization came with thrashing and attempts to shoot off blasts of electricity, energy, anything, but it died off inside of her and she couldn't breath properly, not because of her panicking, but rather because of her positioning. The way she was hanging made it difficult to breath and, as her chest ached, she had to push up, as best as she could, on the tips of her feet, her shoes, trying to make herself as tall as possible, to alleviate her pains the best she could.
As Haven scrambled to understand her situation though, she heard something else. In the darkened area with her. A slight scurry and a soft cry. A man's. Though this made her institutionally attempt to recoil at first, her muddled mind eventually made a connection it hadn't before.
She was in the modified basement, located directly beneath the house. She'd been here once. Before. Though she'd claimed to Richard that she'd worked the mansion before, for Ewing, this wasn't entirely correct. After capturing her, all those years ago, the henchmen threw her down into the basement, one sneering at her, to wait until Ira arrived, but the other bounded down the steps after her and she'd never...felt that before.
She'd been on jobs since she was a little kid, but all the men, the older adults, that wished to do her harm were almost certainly more concerned with physically silencing or harming her. Not…
It was definitely something to be cautious about. Maybe. Her father seemed to warn her about a lot of things, when she was young and started heading out on her own or with equally as naive children. Haven grew up in a bar with drunks and the not so savory types that the guild life style attracted. So yes, fine, she did know that sometimes…
It was wrong. To think. But… Haven just always thought that it was...weak women that got assaulted. In that way. Never someone like her. Or her mother. Or any of the women she knew from the guildhall. It was something someone like...Marin or Navi, maybe, would have to worry about, because they weren't as savvy or strong as she was, and Haven could hang out, late into the night, in the wee hours of the morning, in towns she didn't know. Associate with people she wasn't familiar with. All at seventeen. Because she was not the type of woman that had to worry about these things.
She was arrogant, when she was younger. Ignorant, maybe is a better way of putting it. For someone that traveled around the Kingdom, bearing witness to the horrors suffered by others, it just never occurred to Haven that she could find herself in any sort of similar situation.
It didn't even occur to her as she was transported in the back of that carriage, calling out for her father. The worst thing she could possibly imagine happening to her was that she'd be forced to work whatever product of which Ewing was in business. That alone was frightening.
But this…
They'd left her bound, when they'd tossed her down the basement steps, and as the man came rushing down after her, Haven struggled to shove up, questioning him, her throat raw from calling out for help the past few hours on the ride to the manor, but she knew. Somehow. It was a gut feeling, a sinking one, that caused tears to spring back into her eyes as she realized she was trapped and useless, without her magic, and when he reached for her…
But the other guy was yelling at him. Something about how Ewing had told them to leave her alone, remember? And he didn't want to get his ass kicked over it, did he? No, he didn't seem to. Though he did sneer down into her face one last time and Haven felt sick, all over again, as he told her she'd be down there awhile.
Ewing liked to keep ladies waiting.
She didn't know how to process it then. The idea. Of what was awaiting her. Haven had never felt so hopeless and helpless before. She'd only ever been with Locke, really, fully, at that point, and she knew that didn't really matter, did it, because this wasn't like that, but it was the only thing she could think about and how horrible it was, to have to think about, and she was so fucking sorry, for everything she'd done to get her to that point.
So fucking sorry.
Because she was weak.
She was so fucking weak.
But Ewing did seem to enjoy the aspect of it, that the men mentioned. Forcing you to wait. And dread just what you were awaiting.
He left her too long.
What they bound her with wasn't enough and, even without her magic, Haven was eventually able to break her rope bonds and, the first time that thick, basement door was swung open, she stormed it.
A woman, no doubt one of the poor unfortunate silent ones, who now she was sure was punished severely, being forced to take the blame, seemed to be heading down into the basement to give her a small tray of food and a glass of water. But Haven body slammed her, in her mad dash out.
It was an exterior door, the basement's was, and Haven had no idea what to do, once she was out in the fresh air again. Only ran. This caused a commotion, of course, and as she chose to flee towards the mountains, hoping to lose the men on her tail along the way, it was stark reminder that if she faltered, if she tripped, slowed down, exactly what awaited her upon capture.
Which was why it was difficult to reconcile with herself why she went back. Now. She felt...stronger, obviously, than when she'd been here before, but also…
Ewing was still doing his shit and that was fucked because, once more, Haven felt more capable of stopping him. Than the other women that were captive on his property. Her own hubris, once more, doing her in.
Haven imagined this was why she was chained now, to the wall, in such a manner. An extra precaution. Or perhaps a punishment. It didn't matter. Explanations were null in such situations.
No one seemed to speak of the basement on the property. She hadn't really heard anyone mention it, honestly. But when she heard that other person shift around, as well as his soft breathing, she figured she understood. At least a bit.
The basement was windowless and hot, unbearably so. The walls were cement and the flooring to match. It made the perfect place to throw one of your 'workers' when other discipline techniques were falling through. As she knew of the lashings thrown out the other day, towards the men, Haven reasoned the one trapped down there with her was one and the same.
Her mind was flooding back to her now, no longer struggling against her chains, and even allowing her feet to relax, knowing she'd only exhaust herself otherwise. She had no idea how long she was intended to hang there, but she was aware enough to realize she'd have to pace herself on the shoving up thing.
If it was truly helping her at all.
"Hey," she managed on the second try, finding her dry throat not quite cooperative. "I can, uh, hear you, you know. I know you're in here. Are you...tied up too?"
There was some more shuffling, perhaps some consideration, before the soft, masculine reply of, "No. Not...not like you."
"Good. That's good." Haven was fighting to keep her eyes open. "How long have you been in here? Er...how long have I been? Do you know?"
"For you? Not long."
"We're going to have to...figure some way out of this. You know? Like… Fuck, Locke could do this. Get out of this. Or his stupid dad. He'd just eat the metal."
"You're delirious." There was more shifting in the dark before, slowly, Haven could feel a presence near her. Though she recoiled initially, it was merely the man, his arms bound before him, but no other part of his body. Haven imagined most didn't require much restraint here.
As he stood, he groaned some, exhibiting rather clear discomfort, but still, holding something out in his arms, he motioned towards her.
It was a bowl of some sort, but Haven turned her head when he tried to present it to her.
"Keep it," she told him, imaging the liquid it housed to be water or perhaps some sort of broth. "You need it. Not me."
"They'll come around soon. With more."
He was insistent and it wasn't enough, not nearly, but as she allowed the liquid to travel down her throat, it at least soothed it momentarily. As she finished the bowl, he only stumbled back some, falling down onto his butt as he stared up at her.
"What did you do?" he asked her softly. "To Ewing? To get...chained?"
"It doesn't matter." Haven almost resented the tiny bit of water he'd shared with her. It almost seemed to drive her thirst more. "Are you from Fiore?" She couldn't see which direction he shook his head, but continued anyways. "I'm from Fairy Tail. One of the top guilds. My father...was the guild master, but the rest of my family… They'll all come for me soon. And raze this damn place to the ground. So don't worry, alright?"
He shifted away, once more, at her words, and Haven felt it was just as well. No one had to believe her. She knew they'd be here for her soon.
And the idea of it kept her mind off the inevitable.
Though she worked at tugging against the iron barring her wrists, it seemed to do nothing, but chafe them, and fuck, she wasn't going to be able to break out of them on her own.
Ewing had sent her down to the basement still in the damn dress and it was hot as fuck, honestly, and she felt gross, her sweat dripping into the sores she was making on her wrists, tired and filthy, but she had to keep trying. It was true, she knew it was, deep in her heart, that they would be coming for her soon, but she just had to...keep trying, because if she didn't then...then…
If you don't try then…
The light hurt, when the cellar door was opened. Haven skewed her eyes shut while the man, who she now got at least somewhat of a glimpse at, scurried back, furthering into the basement, hiding from it.
But it wasn't Ewing. Or a henchman. It one of the other silent women. She only walked a few steps down into the basement before behind over, dropping a tray in her hands, and hurrying right back out. As Haven, finally, relented and closed her eyes fully.
The second the door was once more shut, the man rushed forward, to look over what he was given. While he'd given her the last few drips of his water not long ago, Haven imagined that he wasn't going to be much up for sharing again. And, the thought that he could possibly have been given enough rations for them both, but was now in complete control of their share.
She was the mage. She was the one who had to save him. She was prepared for this shit.
When she heard him stand again, letting out a low moan, Haven's eyes shot open, though it provided little assistance in the pitch blackness.
"Save it," she insisted to him. "For yourself. Ewing...he won't let me die. Let me starve. And if he did...my family-"
"There's no family here. You're from Fiore?' He let out a short huff of breath. "Fiore means nothing now. They cannot come for you."
"They will."
"They cannot. So eat. You're not special to Ewing." He only had a stale crust to share with her and a small portion of the water. Still, it was with a sigh now, that he assured the blonde, "No one is special down here."
The past few weeks, months, maybe the past year, since she'd been awakened from eternity, all seemed to crawl by, getting slower and slower with each iteration. She'd thought there would be nothing worse than waiting for the fall to fade away, to get to the first trials, but no, Locke wasn't picked for those and she had to wait for the snow and ice to melt, so what? She could sit around some decrepit house and, once it drifted by, it was only to fall into weeks of menial, but grueling work and abuse and now, here...here…
Time truly had no meaning. No passage. No signification. At all. Boredom wasn't a symptom because it was something much worse, wasn't it? Not even dreading now, no. She had no reason to dread anything. It felt akin to the limbo she'd been sealed in, a year prior, but without the constant memories and thoughts.
Seconds felt like hours and if a multiple days past, she'd have just as quickly believed it as if only one. The man with her seemed weak and, given his frequent grunts and groans, Haven had to wonder how well he was in all.
She thought they should make conversation. Keep one another awake. But this felt like too much and it was just all so bleak. The man did offer her his name, Jed, but little else. Only insured her that it would be a day, at least, before they arrived back with more rations. How do you punish the already punished? With even harsher restrictions.
It was sick, but she almost found herself longing for the evening meal, around the time she thought it came, and a chance to walk the grounds.
Jed seemed to grow antsy at some point, tapping a finger against the ground while Haven was forcing herself up again, trying to take clean, clear breaths. Something seemed wrong. Like he was awaiting something. While she doubted his ability to keep time any better than she, Haven imagined that perhaps his internal clock, over the course of the days he'd been trapped down there, had become accustomed to a schedule. A routine. And clearly, it was being broken.
It was together though, that they sensed what was brewing beyond the basement door. At first, it sounded like maybe one of the horses had gotten loose, turned over a carriage or something. There was a lot of shouting, at least. Maybe someone was getting beaten.
Slowly, as these sounds didn't die away, Jed found himself slowly slinking towards the thick door, to press his ear against it, while Haven only raised her head, not fully lucid.
"Could it...be your family?" he whispered softly to her, but Haven knew that wasn't the case. No.
If someone had come for her, from Fairy Tail, it would surely be her father. Her mother.
Locke.
She'd have sensed any of their magic miles off, out of it or not. Beneath ground or not. So no, it wasn't Fairy Tail. Or even anything particularly magical. But the commotion wasn't dying down and Jed jumped some, stumbling backwards down the stairs, when they heard what sounded like gunshots.
Haven's eyes snapped closed, when the door was suddenly shoved open, expecting the worse as Jed, unprepared, tossed his arms over his face, as if to protect himself from the unknown intruder.
But it wasn't one of the henchmen. Or a man at all. Rather, it was one of the silent women, standing there with the door agape, allowing the light of a setting sun inside along with the reverberating sounds of screams of panic.
The woman at the top of the stairs glanced first from Jed and then to Haven, where she hung close by, peeking her eyes open slowly.
It was Neeve and, at the sight of the blonde, she rushed forwards, passed Jed, coming over to frown at her.
"What's going on?" Jed questioned as Haven's vision was filled only with the other woman. "Up there?"
"I thought you to be...deceptive. Before," Neeve said instead to Haven. "I thought… There was talk of how you came here and having connections to Ewing and I… After you were taken, I thought this true, but when the girl who brought you your meal the other day confirmed you were down here-"
"What," Jed insisted as shadows ran passed above, "is going on out there?"
"You told of...fliers. Behind the dorm." Neeve was patting at her pants then, retrieving a key from one pocket. "We found them. When we heard you were down here… If you were to die or be harmed, how can we be certain? That your group will save us? There was a vote and… It had to be now."
"Is..." Jed stood with another low groan, staring up and out of the doorway above them. "Is there a revolt?"
"Yes." Neeve slipped the key into the cuffs at Haven's left hand. "But we must hurry. Help me."
Jed seemed unsure, hesitating for a moment, no doubt thinking of just running for it. Haven couldn't blame him if he did. But as the first chain fell, he did head over, allowing Haven to fall against him when, after Neeve released the second, Haven couldn't support herself. Though he wasn't too stable himself, the man was able to steady her as Haven only gasped, the feeling of her full weight back on her own two feet almost too much to bear.
"We have to hurry." Neeve was moving them to grab the blonde by the arms. Staring into her blue, clouded eyes, she insisted, 'We could note wait for you to make the first move. We had to make it on our own. Can you still get in contact with your team?"
"If I...had a lacrima," she whispered, thinking more of Fairy Tail than Astra's group. "Then-"
"Then come."
Neeve bounded up the steps, Haven and Jed limping along behind her, only to be welcomed into what felt like unadulterated chaos.
It wasn't like Haven didn't know wounds. Or battle. Because she did. But it was all relating to magic. Given the prevalence of it was not nearly as strong in the Bosco, as in Fiore, they had other methods of destruction.
Guns seemed to be one of them.
But not magically powered.
No.
There was a strong scent in the air that Haven didn't right know as, along the grounds, there seemed no order at all.
She'd counted them all before. The slaves. Including her, she'd never counted more than fifty and once or twice arrived at what felt like the solid number of around forty-six. Before, when she thought of how to set off a revolt, she had something of a plan, hoping to get the men fully on her side, and use them to overpower some of the henchmen in the night and storm the mansion. From what she could tell, however, this was no the plan deemed by the others.
It all came together so randomly. There was vote, as Neeve had explained, among the women, led by the one Haven had so easily convinced the day she was taken by Ewing. She'd been the one to discover the fliers and disperse them, with little concern, to those who were willing to take one. The men included, handing a couple of them off on one she passed on the grounds.
There was a brazen approach to this, a sense of necessity as, given the flier's not fully divulged details, it felt as if, should they lose Haven, then the entire dream would be dead and gone and then what?
This was crap-shoot, fine, but it was the closest to hope some of them had gotten in a good while. And the vote was hardly unanimous, but it felt strong enough to risk it all on. Their only chance. Before it slipped away.
"Where," Haven questioned as her eyes adjusted to the dusk, finding the grounds before them speckled with bodies, one of the women, three of the men, and what appeared to be a few of the henchmen, "is Ewing?"
"He left," Neeve told her as they walked, but it felt like with no direction, Jed's eyes bounding wildly around, trying to pinpoint what exactly they should be doing, where they should be going. "Early this morning. That is when we held the vote. He will only be gone until tomorrow night. We knew with him being gone, taking some of his men with him-"
"His wife and daughters?"
But Neeve seemed uncertain of Haven's question but, as the adrenaline began to pump through her veins once more, the blonde was beginning to feel in control once more.
There were people running about, but they all seemed to be the silent men and women, some attempting to care for wounded and others seemingly to be at a complete loss of direction. There were no henchmen around, it seemed like, other than the four she spotted lying in blood nearby. Their guns and weapons had been confiscated, mostly by the men and one in particular seemed to be something of a ringleader, maybe, as he held the gun confidently over his chest, at the nearby stable, where there seemed to be some people loading up in the carriages and trying to calm the spooked horses.
"Do you know if anyone's left the property?"
The man frowned at Haven as she shoved her way over to him, looking gaunt and unwell. Still, he only retorted a gruff, "What?" in confusion.
Still, she insisted. "Do you know if anyone's left the property?"
"What fucking difference does it make? And what the fuck do you think we're trying to do?" he questioned with a bit of a growl, but she only kept his gaze.
"The city's not far from here," she told him simply. 'If we flee there then everyone will know what's going on up here. If they don't already, with all the gunfire. We don't want that."
"What are you-"
"She's the one," Neeve spoke up then as she and Jed still stood at her side. "From the guild. She has a plan."
"So do we," came the retort from one of the other men who was climbing aboard the carriage. "Get the fuck outta here."
"With those marks on your arms? All together? Where the fuck do you think you're going to go?" Haven shook her head. "We can let people leave. Not until I contact my people. Please. If someone heads into town or someone from down there comes up here to investigate, then we're going to end up with a lot more bloodshed. So just fucking listen to me, alright? I know what I'm doing."
"That why you were locked up?" came a jeer from another, but Haven ignored him.
She knew this game, after all. It's how she got along those years she was away from the guild. You just had to get in good with the one person, the guy, usually. Get him on your side and you can do whatever you want.
As he stared into Haven's blue eyes, the other man's weren't filled with nearly as much confidence. There'd been a rush, after all, in the immediate aftermath, when the bumbrushed the henchmen stationed out in the yards, ripping their guns and tasers from them. Some of the guys had been shot, during this, but fuck, if it wasn't cathartic. The pure adrenaline was exhilarating and it felt like nothing else mattered.
Other than garnering power in those moments.
But they were over now.
And some of the men and two of the women that had been shot were already dead. The other injured weren't necessarily in the best hands either. There weren't enough carriages to get everyone out and nowhere to take the ones who could. Ewing would be back soon, with the rest of his men and, should anyone have been alerted to the town outside the valley, then they were fucked, because he would find out and be coming with reinforcements.
"Give her a gun," the man finally grumbled, but Haven only shook her head.
"I just need to know where his daughters and wife are," Haven said simply.
"Barricaded inside." The man nodded towards the mansion. "There's a panic room hidden somewhere in the manor. Some of the others have gone inside to try and find it."
"Just keep everyone inside the grounds," Haven insisted to the man before turning to walk away.
She wanted to appear confident, but it was difficult because her body ached and she needed to lie down, honestly, but these were the sorts of things they found through, weren't they? Her parents? In all the stories of how they'd driven out evil from their Kingdom?
Now it was her turn.
"You have a plan," Jed questioned as he and Neeve continued to follow her, but Haven didn't answer.
How could she?
When it was certainly in the negative?
They entered the house through the back door, but it was no less chaotic. The rest of the men and women were inside, some raiding the pantry and others harassing a lone henchmen, tied up in the living room. Haven ignored all this though as, looking to Neeve, she had one request.
"Do you know," she asked, "where I can find a communication lacrima?"
It wasn't difficult. There was one downstairs, in fact, in a tiny library off the main hall. It was where Lady Ewing kept in contact with most of her distant friends, the lacrima already set up on the desk and a pad of paper with magical addresses of different contacts. Haven only fell into the seat at the desk while trying to hide a moan.
They'd lost Jed somewhere along the way, the kitchen, probably, but Neeve still stood by, staring expectantly at the younger woman.
She couldn't call Fairy Tail.
Well, she could.
Technically.
But it would take them too long to get there. Ewing was to arrive the following evening. That gave them a day, if not less than that, to formulate a plan. And though she was pleased to keep the rest of the Ewings and henchmen locked away, hidden within the manor, she imagined they wouldn't stay that way for long. They were no doubt with their own lacrima, perhaps, trying to contact someone to get there, to stop what was taking place and fuck.
Fuck.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Any of it.
So close and yet…
"Do you have one of the fliers?" Haven asked and Neeve frowned, but did produce one, folded neatly, from her pocket. After she handed it off to the blonde, Haven only told her, "Leave me alone. For a minute. If that's alright. I think that Lady Ewing is going to stay hidden for now. Just wait outside the door, alright?"
Haven didn't quite know who she was going to be greeted with on the lacrima. At all. Lambent Waves still...distantly familiar, maybe, but…
It felt Astra left it for her, did it? Hadn't she? She'd done what the flier told her to. She'd told of the group's intent, spread the message, balanced their fears, and now...now…
"Lambent Waves. Capt'n speaking."
"Luka," Haven whispered breathlessly when, on the other end of the lacrima, she was greeted with the bright face of the other woman. "It's your ship. On the crates. Lambent-"
"Cargo," she remarked warmly, a grin spreading across her features. "You look...like fucking death."
"Why?" was all Haven could think to ask, confused, as she stared at the other woman. Shaking her head slightly, she questioned, "Are you going to help me?"
"With all your shipping needs."
"No, I mean… Ewing's gone. And there's been a revolt. And I have to get everyone out of the mansion before he gets back, but-"
"When will he be back?"
"Tomorrow. In the evening, but-"
"Ooh, cargo gotta move that quick is gonna cost you there." Luka sighed as she shifted, on her side of the lacrima, to write something down. "How many of you are there?"
"Around...fifty? But his wife and daughters and some of the henchmen are somewhere in the manor and-"
"Subdued?"
"Sorta, I guess, but-"
"You have to be certain that they won't recognize my men." Luka dropped the pen in her hand, sitting back as she tipped her hat. "Once you've gotten them taken care of, get everyone gathered outside. Be prepared to let my men in through the front gates. They'll load you all up."
"Load us up into what?"
But Luka didn't answer, instead warning simply, "Remember, cargo don't talk."
The lacrima cut and then Haven was staring into the crystal at only her own reflection. Her eyes were drooping and the dress she wore wasn't much better. Before she went back out there, to command the others over a plan she still felt rather in the dark about, Haven to collect herself a bit. Calm down. Take a breath.
But not rest.
There was still too much to be done.
Rising, Haven went to the door and opened it to find Neeve, as well as some other women and a few of the men, waiting.
"Someone's coming for us," she assured the small group amassed. "Spread it to the others. We need to be in the front of the property when they come. They'll get us to safety."
"Across the border?" someone questioned, but she only walked on, passed them all and bounding up the staircase.
The basement seemed to span a rather considerable length under ground and Haven couldn't imagine the 'panic room' to be under there as well, even from a separate entry point. The downstairs in general felt too open, like someone would have seen where they'd gotten off to. At the top of the stairs, as she let out a soft sigh, Haven was certain they were somewhere among the maze of rooms.
There were far less people up here. Just three of them, one of the men and two women, who were in the hunt for the Ewings as well. They only had one gun between them, but had snagged knives from the kitchens well and, when Haven passed them in the halls, she found herself rather glad for their nod of understanding her way.
It was easy enough to ditch the dress in one of the rooms. It seemed to belong to one of the henchmen and, as such, his clothes didn't rightly fit, but felt better, at least, than the filthy, sweat-soaked dress. Glancing in his closet was dual purposed, anyways; she was certain that she'd find some sort of hidden trap in one, a false back, leading to the panic room.
Only a month or two prior, she and one of Erza's adopted sons, Ravan, had been exploring an abandoned mansion. There was trick to it, in order to open a secret passage down into a laboratory. She imagined it would be the same, here, and took to tossing what the others hadn't already rifled through off dressers and shelves, but to no avail.
All it was doing was weakening her. And she had to be strong, when she found them.
She met back up with the trio patrolling the upstairs and, much like her, they seemed to be at a loss.
"Everyone else is gathering up in the yard," Haven told them. "Maybe head out there. Or go stay in your bunks. In case someone from the city comes by to check on all the noise."
"What about the Ewings?" one of the women asked her. "Should we just leave them hidden?"
"Might as well," the man insisted, leading the women off. "Why poke the nest?"
Haven felt somewhat the same, but Luka had instructed her otherwise. And though she was still somewhat apprehensive about the other woman (she was Astra's connection after all and that brought up some obvious hesitance), her cautions were still valid.
She had her own reputation to protect.
But as she stood there, thinking, Haven tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling.
"The nest," she whispered, mostly to herself. Aloud though, she motioned on to the others, telling them to leave it to her; she knew exactly where they were hiding.
If you can't go down and you can't slip through the sides, where else was there to go, but up?
An attic of some sort, she thought, but where? She hadn't seen a pull string for a ladder or anything like that, in all her wandering. There had be some sort of way up, she was sure. Maybe hidden by magic. Or just a mechanical contraption. Something hiding it from plain sight, obviously.
Locke could have figured it out.
Haven even smiled some, at the thought.
But she wasn't Locke.
And fuck the Ewings and all that had gone in the fucking house.
Part of her wanted to burn it to the ground.
But part of Haven always wanted to burn traumatic shit to the ground. She usually came to her senses before that point. And now, obviously, if they were to start a fire, that would only attract more attention from the nearby town and they did not want that.
No.
She'd have liked to summon a bolt of lightning, to strike right through the roof, down to her outstretched arm, but of course, her powers were sealed within her and, though she could feel the electricity flowing through her, as she held out a hand, nothing came.
It felt bottled up.
She wondered, distantly and absently, if her father would have this problem. Her sister. Their lacrimas generated and stored powered within themselves. Would it be strong enough, then, to break the barrier presented by the magical slave branding? Or just completely circumvent it?
It was this that made her think of it. Consider it.
The magic was still there, of course, just barred from exiting her body, but she could feel it pooling inside of her, building up. She wanted to expend it, all, but she could think of no real way to accomplish that.
But then she thought of her mother. And her magic.
The seal was to contain magic within the person, keeping them from effectively attacking their captor. But her mother's magic...takeover… She wasn't expelling magic out at something; the magic was contained within herself the entire time. The demons that she contained…
Haven had her own demon now. And though, when she raised her left hand, it didn't drip with the sickly, purple hued magic, but she could feel a thumping in her chest.
"Ahesuka," she whispered, speaking aloud the name for the first time, truly.
She'd read it, not long ago, and feared mispronouncing it. Locke's mother, Levy, had given it to her, written it down, along with some other information on the name as it related back to the demon supposedly trapped inside of her.
The whole thing hadn't been absorbed. By her. Her mother, actually, had absorbed it, truly, after it released its hold on Haven, nearly a year prior. But she'd felt its presence still, the blonde had, even after it was supposed to be have vacated her body.
Her mother said she still had some of it inside of her.
And, as she clasped her fist tightly, she watched it transform in the dimly lit hall, closing as her normal, fleshy fingers, only to unfurl as long, skiny appendages, scaled and leading down into points. Haven laughed, sort of, to herself as she tugged up the sleeve of the shirt she'd found, just to see exactly where the demonic fist ended and she began.
While she felt somewhat like her mother, she felt far closer to her only true, blood uncle. Elfman. With her one, demonic arm.
Clenching her fist again though, Haven stared up at the ceiling once more, above her.
It was time to smoke out some rats.
She'd have felt much better, with her other, typical arm electrified, pounding it into the wood above and bursting onto the scene. But oh, the flair Haven had for dramatics was certainly quenched as, after running to gain speed down the halls, she'd spring up, with all her might, demonic claw outstretched, smashing right through the wood.
Her scaly flesh felt impervious to all and, with little concern, she jumped up, at the hole of splintered wood she'd made, using her new appendage to claw her way up, nearly falling back down on her ass, but oh, she could do it. She had to do it.
But the area she pulled herself into was nothing more than beams, stretched across the massive manor, and it was dark as shit, up there, given all that was above her was the underside of roofing. Her eyes seemed to adjust better though, or differently, at least, with her demonic energy radiating over her body, and she could spot it, in the distance.
There was a set of walls, looking strange in the mass of emptiness and beams. It was clearly what she was looking for.
But it wasn't like it was an easy trek over there, jumping over the beams and fearing missing. Her energy level was high in the sense she was pumped up, but she knew it was waning and she wasn't at her best. If she missed a beam and fell through the insulation, she was worried she wouldn't have the strength to try again.
It wasn't her best effort, and she almost slipped quite a few times, but eventually, Haven found her way made over to the structure, taking a moment out to observe it.
It was raised slightly, the beams supporting it enforced and thick while the walls appeared to be made of something other than just standard paneling or drywall. Some sort of sheet metal. She could hear soft talking, murmuring, from inside and, raising a single claw, she tapped against the side of the wall.
Haven imagined it was terrifying. To those trapped inside. But fuck, fuck, she wanted to terrify them. Horrify them. Make them feel even an ounce of the terror they forced upon others.
There was probably a special way to access the room. Like she thought before. But that would almost certainly be beneath them. If Haven was going to get in, then she had to get through the walls.
She thought it would hurt. After psyching herself up to try. Taking in deep breaths that she counted, having a number for herself to just go for it. When she dug her claws into the metal though and, with a loud grunt, the pain was overwhelmed by the adrenaline and her own cries by the ones of those trapped inside the room.
There was a firing of a gun.
And Haven felt it, hot and burning, as a bullet pierced her scaled claw, a dark red blood escaping and staining the white flesh. But this didn't stop her. She just continued to claw at the metal as she heard the Ewing women scream and the henchmen yell some commands at her, but it was no use.
Finally, truly, honestly, Haven felt like she was back in control.
She must have looked horrific. Sickly demonic. She could feel it anyways, Haven could, in this strange way. The purple aura that she emitted. She'd never felt anything like it before, but it gave her power where hers was beginning to flicker out and, as she ordered the terrified mass out of the hiding space, she wasn't surprised to find they listened on first command.
But somewhat disappointed. Maybe. Her desire for at least a bit of bloodshed felt disgusting, but as she marched the holdouts into the yard, it took some convincing on her part for the Ewings and their cohorts not to be strung up right there.
Honestly, had Haven not still been in her transformation, she wasn't sure she could have stopped it. And, upon not being able to, if she might not have participated.
Her transformation struck fear in the others as well, however, as she stood out in the yard, before them, her claw at her side and a soft, purple glow irradiating from her. One of the women cried out, even, when they saw her, but Haven only addressed some of the silent men, who stood by, cradling their guns over their chest, staring at her in equal terror.
"Open," she ordered simply, "the gates. And walk the Ewings into the mountains. Just to edge. They'll carry on by themselves."
"Fuck we will," came the angry retort from one of the henchmen, but when Haven turned back to look at him, he only coward backwards, disarmed and powerless.
The daughters, in their nice, summer dresses, all clung to one another now, sobbing, along with some of the female, standard workers on the manor, who'd hidden away with them. Lady Ewing, however, stood before them, a dark look in her eyes as she attempted to stare Haven down.
"My husband," she began and she shook, slightly, as she spoke, but seemed able to swallow her fears as her voice appeared unwavering, "and he will strike you down. He-"
"Go to the mountains." Haven held up her claw then, point a long finger in their direction. "And you will not turn back. You will not return here. You will climb through the pass. And if you turn around, if you glance back… We'll shoot you dead." Lowering her hand slight then, she glanced down at her claw before back at the older woman and adding, "Or worse."
There was obvious hesitance, but the threat of guns (and a demon) seemed to be enough to get the Ewings and their company to march across the property and then, out of it, the men they'd previously abused now holding the weapons and egging them on.
Haven feared they'd shoot them, the second they were out of sight. Or that the Ewings would try something and they'd have to do so. Execute them. While she wasn't wholly against the idea, she did still have some reservations as well as fears of disturbing the town below and ending up in a full blown battle.
She couldn't handle that.
For many reasons, of course, but mostly because she felt like she was going to fucking pass out.
As she allowed her demonic form to fade back into her normal presence, it took a lot out of her not to collapse. Eyes were still on her, of those who weren't hiding out somewhere on the property, and those some of her formal peers were eyeing her with suspicion and fear, as the pruple glow evaporated, Neeve came rushing right up.
"You've been shot," the woman observed softly, reaching out for Haven's hand. It was back to its normal form though now stained with blood and with a gaping wound. The pain was beginning to set in as well.
Giving it over to the other woman, the blonde merely nodded as, just as soft, she whispered, "Yeah, I, uh, guess you were right. We should never be alone."
Neeve made a sound of agreement as, with nothing to properly dig the bullet out (or the knowledge of how to go about it), she merely had some sort of fabric that she began to bind around the wound and, well, Haven imagined that was the best she could expect for the time being.
There were so many worse off. And she wanted to help them all, she did, but she was without her medic or, even, really, strength to do much else. Other than sit and wait.
And hope.
After so long, hope had returned to the manor.
The sound was heard before the source was seen, as the silent fell back into this, seated either in the front lawn or back in their barracks. A slow, steady rumble could be felt against the ground and it was someone coming for a shipment, of course. Or one coming in.
This wouldn't have been a big deal, say, even twelve ours prior. But now there was no one there to greet them, bodies strewn across the lawn, and obvious disarray.
Haven rose though, from where she'd sat on the front porch steps of the manor, to walk the long path down to the front gate, some of the men coming to peer out with her, into the night.
Big, burly men were walking along, leading the way, a clipboard in the hand of one, a torch in the hand of the other, as behind them two long, shipping containers were drug on pallets by horses.
"Shipment?" one of the men questioned Haven, a knowing glint in her eye, as they stared at one another front behind the closed gate.
"To Fiore?" she whispered softly and, at his nod, was quick to unlatch the gate.
It wasn't exactly easy to convince the hysterical and apprehensive people to climb into unmarked shipping containers, stack in there, honestly. She honestly wasn't looking forward to it either. But, as she explained, the only other option was to wait around for Ira Ewing to arrive home or, maybe, test their luck out their on their own.
And though they were welcome to try, she spoke from experience; it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. Far worse than what they would endure, following her into the crates.
Honestly though, one of the harder decisions to make were leaving behind the bodies of those who didn't make it. Haven wanted to take them with them, to bury them somewhere other than the hellscape they'd spent their final months or years trapped at. But the logistics didn't make sense and the best anyone could offer them was to toss white sheets over their heads and carry on in their memory.
The wounded were another difficulty. They needed to be silent, on their decent back through town and transported onto the awaiting ship. But many of them were, truly, gravely wounded and though Haven though it might be for the better, to leave them behind, she knew she couldn't.
No way.
Only if she stayed behind with them.
Luka's men helped her and the others carry any of the wounded into the crates first, to put them as much ease as possible, before they piled in as well, cramped and uncomfortable, but free.
Weren't they?
Not yet, truly, as Luka's men still had to leave them on a bumpy ride through towns and back to the docks, which seemed to take forever. Standing room only, for those who could. Haven found herself squashed between people and the stench in the container was just bad enough to remind her of her first job, all those years ago, back in Haiko with her friends.
Thinking back on the memories were enough to distract her from all that was going on about them.
After being tossed and tumbled around in the container, the second the crates were placed upon the ship, everyone was antsy to be let out. But Luka forced them to wait, until they were further away from land, in the open waters between the two Kingdoms, where no jurisdiction could claim them. It was only then that her men came to break the nailed shut crates and they all came flooding out, up from below deck to fill deck.
Haven thought to stay down below, where the injured were still confined, but regardless of her condition, there was still someone she had to see.
She found Luke on the bow of the ship, smoking while overlooking the endless water before them. The sun was high in the sky with a slight breeze accompanying it and Haven never noticed it before.
How good the air felt.
So close to home.
And even though they were headed from thousands of miles away from her real home, in Magnolia, at that moment, any fucking where in Fiore was good enough for her.
Luka's cap was gone that day, her bright, shiny hair being free to blow in the breeze and, as she took in a deep drag from the cigarette protruding from her lips, she hardly gave Haven a glance. Still, on the exhale, she remarked, "Cargo stays below deck."
But Haven ignored this, instead only questioning, "How are you going to get us into a port? In Fiore? And how did you get out of Bosco?"
"A good sea capt'n should always have her connections." The huff of smoke was short then. Concise. After, she said, "Just like her secrets."
Haven opened her mouth to speak, but the woman only shook her head.
"Look," she said simply, "the two of us? Me and you? Not much need for interaction. I'm contracted out through Astra. She gives me times and locations, I do deliveries. That's all. You and I? This is far more than we'll ever have to speak, on normal terms. Anything you gotta say, any comments, questions, or concerns, go to Astra herself."
"Fuck Astra," Haven retorted simply, but Luka only shrugged, her usual smirk folding over her lips as she only went back to watching the waves and focusing on her smoke.
Turning away from the woman, Haven looked back over the ship instead, watching as the men and women she'd seen so emotionless, so reserved, so...inhumane, at times, it felt like, impersonal, but they wept now, openly, with joy, while some of them only leaned against the railings, silent and somber.
It was over for them. All of them. Now. Finally. And for that, Haven was pleased. She wasn't sure what awaited them in Fiore and was sure most of them new even less, but it was better than where they were before. Loads better. And that was all that mattered.
When she raised her injured hand though up to her face, to frown down at the bloodstained gauze, she was reminded that this wasn't the case for her. No way.
Her first trip back into Bosco was complete, but she knew that it would be far from her last.
