Author's Note: I feel like they just keep getting longer. Thank-you for all the reviews I've gotten so far. I've particularly enjoyed reading Challa's progression through the chapters. Very amusing. And quite encouraging. More exposition in this chapter, hopefully getting back to the rest of the crew next chapter. I hope you enjoy the chapter. As always feedback of any kind is always welcome. Leave questions, concerns, or comments in a review, or even suggestions, if you have them! I apologize for any spelling/grammatical mistakes I've made. No beta and early mornings. You know the drill.

Chapter rating: M- implied nudity, conversation of mild adult themes

Disclaimer: I have no claim to this beautiful world of pirates... only guilty of swapping stories a little.

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Trophy

Robin raised her brow, turning to face the pair. She had fully intended on giving the girl her privacy, unlike a certain curious navigator, and had missed the brief display. Nami was already back-tracking, scratching the skin at the back of her neck.

"I mean. I guess you'd know if they were scars or not. I just… could I see them again?"

The orange-haired femme had seen scars. She was no stranger to them, the faint lines of her own marks disguised in the art of her tattoo. Zoro's scars were always on display, the marks distinct and unmistakable. Scars were stories of weakness and triumph. Tales of overcoming physical and emotional trials that tested mind, body, and, in some cases, one's will to live. But these were…

"Could I see them?" The pirate asked again, fingers twitching as she held back the desire to simply tug the fabric away from the object of her enquiring mind. The older female remained quiet, but she too watched the stranger girl with curiosity, obviously wanting to see the supposedly confusing marks for herself. It wasn't often Nami got caught up on something like scars, when every town bar from here all the way back to Logue Town were crammed with people baring them.

There was a brief moment where Vivian tightened the towel around her shoulders, brows furrowed in distress. Nami retracted her questing fingers, folding her arms across her chest sheepishly. "Only if you want, Vivian. We're not gonna hold you down or anything." Searching eyes moved from one pirate face to the other before she slight femme sighed softly, letting the towel relax in her grip. One slender hand kept hold of the cloth while the other made quick work of sliding away the long locks of slick black hair, exposing her naked back to the inquisitive women.

"They are scars," she muttered to them in quiet assurance, either ignoring or not hearing the small gasp behind her.

The scars were unlike any Nami had seen. There were no ragged edges or pockmarks from claws or bullets. No slashing lines from knives or swords. It wasn't just her shoulders, either. The design –for what else could these swooping, clean lines be?- extended from her shoulders, two lines working their way up onto her neck, and then diving down under the bandages on her hip. Fainter lines could be seen curling just under the line of towel that kept her mostly decent, apparently looping around just above the swell of her butt. The pattern was a series of intricate, swirling streaks that contoured her supple body in an almost spiritual way, as if the convoluted strokes were used in some sort of ritual or rite.

Nami caught herself thinking them beautiful. Robin was equally impressed by the complexity of the spiralling curves that accented Vivian's pale skin. The lines themselves were red, a brighter red than she expected. Old scars faded over time. Were these new? She could understand why Nami questioned them as being scars at all. That wasn't the only detail that stood out to the archaeologist, though, ever watchful as she was. Her sharp eyes took notice of the well-developed form under the scarlet design, the flutter of lean muscle that twitched beneath the ivory skin. She pegged the girl as older than her energetic friend in spite of her young, frightened aura, though perhaps not quite so old as her. It was hard getting a read on the stranger-woman.

At seeing Vivian's wary face peeking at them from over her shoulder, Nami reigned herself in long enough to ask the questions that must have clearly been scrawled over her face in earnest. "When did you get those? And, I mean… how?" What sort of situation left something as artistic as that behind? Nami was confused. Robin was quiet, blue eyes hiding the dread that sparked within her, a black flame fed by the flicker of heartbreak she felt emanating from the exposed female.

It couldn't be…

"My…" Vivian hesitated, right hand losing grip of her midnight tresses, the soaked strands sliding back into place. She recovered from her false start quickly enough, slowly dragging the towel back up around herself. "Sugar Town wasn't always a… vacation spot. The people that lived on the island before it was, um, 'converted' used to play a game on the beach called 'Starving Ouroboros'." Vivian wasn't facing the women, instead staring a hole in the floor in front of her. "You're supposed to use a stick to make one long, fancy line in the wet sand with the two free ends ending up as close to each other as possible without touching. If the waves caught up to you before you finished, you lost. It's… a children's game. The kids had more fun, but usually their parents had better designs. You had to make it as appealing as possible, of course, as judged by the players and whatever audience they accrued. Just some silly thing to pass the time before the tides came in."

Vivian faltered slightly. "My… master, heard stories of Starving Ouroboros from the navy. He challenged many of the other Nobles to a game. He never usually won. He took too much time and the waves would always erase my master's efforts. He'd get so mad." Vivian swallowed roughly. "But then one time, he won. Nobody even tried disputing his victory. My master always had an eye for art. He- he was quite fond of his Ouroboros. Enough he wanted to proof it always existed. Enough he had an artist carve it into my skin."

Nami couldn't breath, looking to Robin for what she didn't know. Air? Reassurance? Acknowledgement that this was indeed a terrible story and she felt the same horror she did? Robin's face was tight with concern and pity, that wall maternal instinct building itself around them brick by tragic brick. The navigator was silent, but Robin spoke with quiet conviction. "How did they dye it?" The story had a subtle air of elapsed time woven between her words, this incident obviously having occurred some time ago. And the neat, puckered lines should have dulled within a couple weeks…

Vivian paced towards her clothes, apparently trying to steady the tremors that ran along her spine. "My master didn't ever want his triumph to disappear. He had the carver use a blade dipped in toxin to… decorate me. There are plants in Sugar Town that irritate and stain skin when prepared properly, and Master made sure it wouldn't heal properly. He told me if I moved during the process, if I messed up the lines, that he would have to flay me and start over again." She turned back to the women, though it didn't seem as if she were looking at them. Her gaze was far off, eyes glazed and distant. "He told me I looked prettier with them…"

Nami wanted to vomit.

She felt so acutely the betrayal of her own mind, cursing her own brain for thinking those awful marks beautiful. They were nothing but a reminder of pain, and blood and the torment of being a slave to the disgusting creatures that called themselves 'Celestial Dragons'. She knew first-hand how appalling the Nobles treated their slaves and people in general, Hachi's tears and Saint Charloss' smoking gun still haunting her dreams from time to time. This was just another brutal reminder that these tainted humans had to be taken down a few notches. Though, she certainly wouldn't complain if they had simply vanished completely either.

"I'm so sorry Vivian, I didn't know- I-I wouldn't have asked…if…"

Robin laid a gentle, staying hand on Nami's, the younger women gripping her forearm in duress.

"You don't have to worry about the World Nobles anymore, Vivian. You needn't call that monster your master any longer."

Vivian did not weep, her shaking already steadied, but that only made the raven worry more. Instead of tears, there was only a quiet emptiness in the girl's eyes. As free as she was on this ship… the chains that shackled her soul were still firmly rooted in her psyche. She'd heard the phrase muttered in varying tones by people in her travels. "Once a slave, always a slave." Her brief stint as captive of the World Government gave her a unique understanding of those words. Hopelessness was a corrosive feeling. It sapped away at a person's willpower, stripping them of their desire and happiness. Robin had almost fallen prey to that powerful bleakness. She owed her life to her nakama, the only people on this planet who cared for her more than she cared for herself.

She couldn't imagine living under the such oppression for so long. It was no wonder the woman had a hard time evaluating the girl. She was barely a husk of frayed nerves sheathed in bundled fears and trepidation. How could she believe she was free when she most likely didn't understand the feeling? Robin watched the femme in quiet contemplation as Nami helped her into borrowed clothes and picked at the ruined bandages. It would take a lot more than a bath to wash away the filth that tainted this young woman's spark of life.

"We'll have to get Chopper to change them for you." She came back to the waking world at the sound of Nami's voice. "Can't have you wandering around with dripping wet binding, now can we?" There was a tone of forced levity to her voice, the navigator trying to coax Vivian (and most likely herself, as well) from the maudlin trench they dug themselves into. It seemed to work well enough, the mention of people not currently in this room bringing back to her attention the true scope of her situation. Stranded in the middle of the ocean on a ship full of pirates. Odd pirates, to be sure, but pirates none-the-less.

"I'll fetch Chopper," Robin volunteered, slipping away from the humid air of the bathing room and into the buttery sunshine that painted the lawn deck a shimmering gold. The fresh, brine-smelling air cleared her head and soothed her rattled emotions. She wasn't quite sure what they were to do about the girl. They couldn't leave her just anywhere, but at the same time, Vivian hardly seemed pirate material. The StrawHats could only protect her for so long before they inevitably parted ways. Luffy wouldn't just abandon her knowing she had served under a Celestial Dragon. He understood as well as any other what kind of torment anyone near a World Noble went through. He was childish most of the time. Naïve and gullible at others. But being on Luffy's bad side was a terrifying concept, as Luffy was known to hold grudges, the World Nobles and their Government at the top of his list.

If he knew the extent of Vivian's tragedy… he might even order the ship back to Sugar Town to let off some steam.

Taking a deep breath, Robin moved away from door, padding around the ship and down to the second floor. She heard humming from the kitchen before she even entered, slight smile tugging at her lips from the cheerfulness of the tune. Such a happy reindeer their dear doctor was. She entered with a smooth, "Hello Chopper, Sanji."

Chopper was still assisting the chef with clean-up from the disaster that was breakfast. The young doctor was sweeping what looked like a pile of salt into his dust pan, while Sanji turned to greet her from his place at the sink. "Why hello Robin-chan! I trust you ladies enjoyed your food? Is our guest comfortable?" She offered her crewmate a polite smile. "Yes, thank-you for your concern. Vivian is doing well. Speaking of," She turned her gaze to Chopper, "if you could join us in the bathing room, Chopper? Vivian needs her dressing to be changed."

There was no denying the glint in Sanji's eyes before he even spoke. "Is the lady doing alright? I don't supposed you need any help with the dres-"

"Nami and I have got it covered. But your desire to assist is appreciated."

The cook gave her a lop-sided grin as the older woman cut him off. "I live to serve." He offered the navigator a playful, one-handed bow, fingers still covered in soap. Robin lifted her hand to cover a cool smile. "Of course, dear cook-san."

"I'll get some fresh bandages and some supplies from my room." Chopper carefully stowed his cleaning gear away before trotting over to the door of the medical bay.

"Allow me to assist you." Robin followed close behind, shutting the door softly behind the doctor as he rummaged around his desk.

"Chopper… have you seen them? The scars on Vivian's back?"

Chopper answered without looking, small hooves pawing through a drawer of ointments. "Oh! Yes I did. I saw them when I patched her up during the storm. At first I thought she got them that day somehow… I wonder if I have something to sooth them? I should ask when she got them. Could be infected…"

He kept listing off the names of various plants both in and out of his possession, that could possibly create a poultice for the mystery markings, but Robin's low voice caused him to pause.

"Don't."

The reindeer turned around, confusion etched into his animal face. "Wha-? Why? Don't what? I have to do-"

"Don't ask her about them. I can tell you, if you must know. But please, Chopper…"

As much as the archaeologist respected the girl's privacy, the thought of Vivian having to relive that memory, cycling that poison through her bruised and battered system again and again… she couldn't stand it.

"…do not ask about her scars."

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Word Count: 2294
Muse Source: Run from this Place- Hania Zdunek

"He reaches around, caressing your soul, within you, it feels cold
'Don't beg for your life, you won't find your voice'
He whispers 'You don't have a choice'
As he points to your name in the fire."