It truly is a depressing place. If I weren't already feeling similarly I'd probably want to leave as soon as possible. As it is, I just find myself leaning my back against a rickety old house, surrounded by refuse. The smell is horrible, but honestly, after days here, its become the new normal. So, the slums aren't much worse than the rest of the city at this point.
I think back on my actions just now, head resting on my knees. Surely I could have handled that better? Going for the sword was surely too much. It's just, the moment the lady came at me for my hair again, I just got so angry. I really wanted to hit her with it, even if I'd never actually do so. I feel like I was secretly hoping for the reaction the previous people I met had, to get back some modicum of control, but even that was taken from me.
Seriously, what kind of idiot comes at someone holding a sword with their bare hands? It's like bringing a knive to a gunfight. Hell, if it were me, I'd have run the fuck away. At least I had a spear going up against that bandit, and he looked like he was out for me, I just wanted to get away. These people...
I wonder if the guards will be called? That's what you'd normally do in a situation like this right? Then they'll start searching the city for signs of some black haired woman wearing a scarf. I wonder what the punishment is for accidentally cutting someone's hand in half. Guess it's better not to find out. Knowing my luck I'd be charged with attempted murder, if they even stop to give me a trial. The men in the village sure didn't.
Maybe they could fix it with magic? If magic does things like that in this world. I've really only seen it move heavy wagons.
What now? The thought falls into my head suddenly, and I realize that I have no idea. My plan was to find work, but interesting work seems reserved for men, and the work females do seems to be reserved for those without black hair. What the hell is it that people expect me to do to them? Are we usually witches or something?
I consider standing up, but then figure there's little point until I figure out what I actually want to do. I look at the shuttered buildings around me. All old wood, grown dark and moldy with age. One of the sheds looks like it's about ready to fall over. I wonder if it'd be possible for me to find an abandoned one. It certainly looks like there should be enough around.
Maybe I can use the few things Ronain taught me and set up a business selling those? It's all common ingredients, so I shouldn't have too much trouble actually making the things. But I have no idea if there's a market for a '3 days of experience' herbalist. Is what he taught me common knowledge, or esoteric? Apparently they needed a herbalist for it in his village, but how about the city?
I chuckle darkly at my own silliness. How would I go about selling those without speaking the language, much less setting up a business.
Am I doomed to go around acting like a villain until I can make myself understood? Could I even survive long enough that way to get to that point? I don't think it's really a question. I'd die or get caught way before I got to that point.
No, instead of doing anything stupid like that, I should do what I should have done long ago. I should just return to Ronains village. I can survive in the cave, and can now even purchase some supplies to survive there for a while. If he's still just as willing to teach me as before, then I should go back to find the single friendly face I know.
I should also do it before someone reports what just happened to the guards, and they lock down the city or something.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
Happy that I've finally made a decision that I can feel good about, I move to stand up, and look up for the first time in ages. Right as I'm doing so, a little urchin, covered in dirt and who knows what bursts out from behind a nearby stack of wooden refuse. It's hard to tell their age or gender at a glance, and I do not have more than a moment to consider it, as they are upon me in an instant. For a moment I think it's an attack, and I ward up my hands to ward them off.
Their eyes widen when they see I noticed them, but they don't break off their sprint. For a second I wonder what they're going to do, but then they're past me, and sprinting away again. I shake my head, bemused at what the hell that kid was doing, when I realize that my sack is gone.
My head whips after the kid, and there, clutched between their scrawny hands, dangles my sack. For a moment I marvel at their ability to grab it and not cut their hands open, before I realize that the sword is back in its scabbard, and I'm scrambling up in pursuit.
I thought I'd easily catch up, but the stupid kid knows where they're going, and I have no idea where I am. Ever time I think I can catch them in a dead sprint, they dart back into an alley, squeeze between two buildings that are too close together for me to pass through, or just turn with an agility my adult body cannot hope to match. Pure speed I can do, but it doesn't help me here.
I can't let that sack disappear though. It contains literally everything I've accumulated in my short time here. I have zero confidence in being able to make it back without its contents.
My motivation just seems to encourage the brat though. They surely think they've managed to hit the jackpot, and I can't help but agree. A dirty as the sack itself is, with the way the kid looks its contents must represent a veritable fortune.
In my previous life I'd probably have given up. I never carried anything that was of more value to me than my life, and the single time that my wallet was stolen from I just shrugged and moved on with my life. But I had a bank account then! And an apartment filled with junk that never seemed to run out.
This time, I can't let that happen, and so I push myself. We rush past dilapidated buildings, dirty laundry, a whole set of dogs apparently having a fight to the death, several people that can't even be bothered to look up at what is going on. Eventually, I cut a lucky break, or the brat an unlucky one, and someone steps out of a door right in front of their face.
By some miracle, they're able to adjust and perform some truly epic dodge roll through the blockade presented by the man and the door, but their momentum is gone, and while they scramble back up and away, I grab them by the hem of their dirty shirt.
I'm just about to launch into a tirade I know they won't understand, but I'm suddenly just holding a dangling dirty shirt, and the goddamn brat is off again. I look back at the man that just came out of the door, just trying to say 'did you see that?', but I find that they haven't even paused in their journey, and are already halfway down the street.
Time falls away from me, and I carefully plant my legs as the world slows down around me. This brat will not escape. I chase after them, and even though they are very agile, and I'm relatively large, the fact that I can adjust before they even really notice they're doing something makes up for a large part of the difference.
They notice something is wrong as they throw a glance back and find me right on their heels. Where I was previously blundering into anything they threw in my path, I can see it coming now, and avoid it. The gaps they squeeze through are observed and noted even before the child moves through them, and suddenly it feels like I'm always one step ahead.
This time our chase is a lot shorter, and, still holding the stupid shirt I took from them, I don't take any chances. The next time they're within reach, I wrap my hand tightly around their wrist, and nearly dislocate their shoulder when they notice and suddenly try to jerk away.
Seeing the child struggling in slow motion is very interesting in a way, things you don't usually see come to the forefront. Like how their eyes jerk in the direction they will try to go before they actually make a move in that direction. Never mind that there is no way they'd ever... Oh no you don't!
The hand I'm not using to hold their arm swings around and gives them a ringing slap to the face. Hard enough to make them pause, but hopefully not to do any lasting harm. Their eyes slowly widen when they realize they were foiled before they even did what they were attempting to. The little fucker was going to bite me. This kid is nasty!
It does make me a bit sad when I realize what that probably means about the world they're living in. I have to fend of a few desperate kicks to my belly, some stomps on my toes, and even a fully fledged attempt at some wrestling hold before the kid realizes it's pointless. But at that point I'm thanking my lucky stars that I have the juice to slow down time. I might have come out on the wrong end of that exchange if I'd attempted this without.
I'm not entirely certain how much would have changed if I were willing to knock them out by force.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
They finally stop struggling, their small body sagging in my grasp as they seem to deflate like a punctured balloon. I feel a mix of relief and wariness, as I study their face, taking in the dirt-smudged cheeks, the tangled brown hair, and the wide, disbelieving eyes that stare back at me. For a moment, we just look at each other, the only sound the heavy breathing of the child as they try to process what just happened. Somehow, I find myself feeling a pang of curiosity about this small, scrappy monster that's been trying to hurt me for what feels like an eternity.
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I tear my gaze away from the child's disbelieving stare, and my eyes scan the surrounding area, taking in the crumbling buildings, the narrow alleys, and the few passerby's that seem to be pay us only a modicum of attention. I glance around, my hand instinctively tightening around the child's wrist as I feel them move, a finger slipping towards my eyes like a snake. I jerk my head away, my teeth gritted in annoyance as I grab the child's other wrist, holding it firm as they try to wriggle free.
So much for the impression they had given up. I can't let my guard down for an instant with this creature.
My grip is still tight as I try to get a better look at their face. For some reason my mind keeps wandering back to the tiny, delicate hands I'm holding. I'm mildly bothered by the fact I can't tell if this bundle of joy is a boy or a girl. It doesn't truly matter, but I somehow feel like I should be able to tell. Some hangup about a girl being this... feral? I glance down at the child's remaining clothing, but their emaciated, scraped body, and their ripped pants do not give me any clues.
"A nighean?" Guess I'll just ask then.
I'm met with a look of utter confusion as I ask the question, my words hanging in the air like a challenge. The child's gaze lingers on me, their eyes narrowing as if trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Their small chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. For a moment, I'm convinced this is a precursor to them launching themselves at me again, but they just stare at me like I'm some kind of lunatic.
"Tòisichidh thu leis a' phrìomh dhùil?" she finally says, as the words answer my question without me truly understanding their meaning. The incredulity is abundantly clear though.
I smirk, surprised at how the answer to that question resolves some bizarre anxiety I was feeling about the fact.
"M'phaigheadair?" "My bag?" I ask her, as I let go of one of her wrists. She looks down at the sack that's now protectively stuck between her two feet. She dropped it to get at me, but not anywhere, no. Only where she could get it back easily, and I can't reach it without bowling her over. The forethought in that action baffles me, though it probably shouldn't surprise me given everything that happened.
I narrow my eyes, studying her face for any sign of deception, but she just looks back at me with a mixture of caution and curiosity. "M'phaigheadair," I repeat, trying to not make it sound like a command. For a moment, it looks like she's going to refuse, her new free hand reaching to grip the sack tightly as if prepared to fight me for it. I tense, ready to react if she decides to make a move, but then her face softens ever so slightly. She looks down at the sack, and I can almost see the calculation in her mind. I hold my breath, my heart beating slightly faster as I wait for her decision. I really do not want to try to force it. But then, to my surprise, she slowly reaches down and hands me the sack, her small hand extending it towards me.
I know how heavy it is, so I marvel at the strength in that small arm. She may look half starved, but there's a wiry strength to her body.
I take back the sack, and release her other wrist as I do so. The moment I do, she immediately scrambles back several meters, eyeing me warily. Wonders if I have anything terrible in there that I'll now attempt to use on her maybe? Either way, with her at a safe distance, I finally feel secure enough to return to normal time.
It is immediately apparent to me that this latest use of juice has had a larger effect on my reserves than any before. I wonder if the cost depends on how much you actually try to do?
I dig through the sack, making sure that everything I had in there is still there. And finally look back up to find her still there, staring at me from what I'm sure she considers a safe location. I figure I might as well, and open the pouch on my belt to retrieve five of the square holed copper coins, which I hold out for her to take.
As I hold out the copper coins, the girl's eyes flicker to the pouch on my belt, and for a moment, her gaze lingers on it before snapping back to mine. Her face, which had been etched with a mix of caution and curiosity, suddenly contorts into a look of absolute betrayal. Her eyes widen, and her small chest heaves with a ragged breath as she realizes that she targeted the wrong thing. She takes a step back, her eyes fixed on the pouch, and her hand instinctively reaches for it, as if she's trying to snatch it from my belt.
I suddenly feel bad, and say "Tòir dòchas. Sgiath cudromach." "Not bad. Bag important." or something like it, I hope. And I realize that maybe giving her coin was a bad idea from the start. Anyone would assume an urchin like that approaching them with coin had stolen it, even if she seems perfectly willing to do so regardless.
I figure I better take a note out of the Ronain playbook, given she looks around the same age, and sit down at the side of the road. She's seen me do exactly that before, but somehow still seems surprised I'm willing to just plop down there. I'm not entirely sure of the reason. A glance at mine, and the clothes of the people around doesn't distinguish me as very different. Sure my clothes are marginally cleaner now, but...
Anyhow, instead of coin, which I put back in the pouch as she tracks them with her gaze, I pull out some of the bread and dried meat in my pack, and hold that out instead. Patting the floor next to me exactly as I did with Ronain.
To her credit, it takes her nearly a minute to satisfy herself that I'm not suckering her into anything. Even when she does approach, it's to grab the food quickly, after which she scurries back out of reach. She does sit down to eat though, which I count as a small victory.
As the girl eats, I keep a watchful eye on her, still wary of any sudden movements. Her hunger seems to have gotten the better of her, and she's wolfing down the bread and dried meat with an appetite that's almost comical. I find myself smiling slightly at the sight, which catches me off guard. I'm not sure I've smiled in days, and it feels... strange.
The girl looks up at me, her eyes narrowing as she catches my gaze. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the only sound the crunch of her eating. I can see the wariness in her eyes, but also a glimmer of curiosity. She's trying to figure me out, just like I'm trying to figure her out.
It suddenly dawns on me what strikes me about this kid. In a way that's hard to explain, I feel like I'm looking at a version of myself - not exactly as I used to be, but as I perhaps fantasized about being. Of course, I've never had to deal with the kind of hardships this kid has faced, which is likely why they've ended up in this situation. But there's something about their attitude - that defiant 'the world is against me' spirit and their determination to keep going, no matter what? That's something I used to have, or at least I thought I did. So, when did I lose it? Is this what being middle aged does to you?
She swallows her bite, then works up the courage to finally ask, with slightly squinted eyes "Cath a tha thu?" "Who are you?" I guess that's a fair question. I haven't introduced myself yet. "Tha mi Emma. Ciamar a tha thu?" "I'm Emma. How about you?"
"Tha mi... Mairi" she hesitantly replies.
As Mairi finishes speaking, she looks at me with a mixture of curiosity and caution, her eyes darting back and forth between mine. I nod, trying to appear non-threatening, and she takes another bite of the bread. I watch her, fascinated by the way her eyes light up as she eats, and the way her hair falls in tangled brown locks down her back.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the present moment. "Ciamar a tha thu, Mairi?" I ask, trying to sound friendly and non-threatening. "How do you do, Mairi?" She snorts, and bread flies everywhere. There's genuine, but bitter amusement in her eyes as she looks up at me. "Ciamar fada tha thu a dhol a dhiùin dhomh gum faoiir dhomh an dòchas sin?" "How long.. ask.. that?"
She sweeps her arm out wide, encompassing the sprawling slums and its inhabitants, as well as herself. "'S ann àrachd é a bheatha." "Life.. is fucking hell." she says with a scathing tone that speaks volumes, as a sneer spreads across her face.
Ok, maybe don't ask the potentially orphaned street child how life is. That's an expression I should never see on a childs face.
Somehow it disarms her though, and the expression of disgust slowly reverts back to curiosity as she looks at me. For the first time she approaches me "Tha thu a' dol a bhith a' chàirdeil." "You... strange" she says, as she sits down next to me and continues munching on the remains of the bread I gave her. The dried meat is already gone.
I hand her another piece of bread, and smile wryly as I mutter under my breath, "Yeah, that's what you get for being yoinked out of a literal wonderland when you compare it to here." I can't say that to her though, not least of all because I don't know the words. Instead the best I can do is, "Tha eagalach." "Things happen."
She takes the handed bread, and asks, "Cà nan a tha thu an sin?" "What are you doing here?" I can't help but celebrate my ability to understand a full sentence, but thinking about the answer quickly turns my mood dour. "Na obair. Tha mi A' dol." "No work. They hate me." at least I don't have to be worried I'm dumping my worries on her. Nothing I can add that she's not already dealing with, and frankly, I don't care. It pisses me off that the only people willing to listen are children, but I'll take it.
She frowns at me, then points at my sack, and the pouch I keep my money, "Ciamar a tha e sin?" "What about that?" I grin, and lean towards her as if telling her some great secret, "Thachair dòchas." "Stolen goods." Her eyes widen slightly, but quickly narrow, and she exclaims "Tha thu dol a bhruidhinn!" "That's a lie!"
I can only shrug my shoulders. Not like I can make her believe me by any extra words. Instead I just question her. Pointing at my sack, "Cò tha thu a' ghabhail e?" "Why take this?"
It's her turn to shrug, and I'm fairly certain she's deliberately exaggerating after my own just now, she looks me over meaningfully, then says "Sgaoth beò." "Easy... target?" I'm mildly affronted, but I can't deny that I probably am. If I hadn't had my juice to help out she'd have gotten away without a doubt. No way I'll tell her that though. I wish I knew how to say "What does that make you then?", but those words won't come. I can't help but continue to be surprised by how much I've picked up just by being immersed though. I've been doing nothing but walking around for days just listening, but when you do it all day long...
"Cà nan làimh?" "Where do you sleep?" If you count caveman "Where sleep?" as valid language anyway. She looks at me with a conflicted expression, and I immediately wonder whether that was a rude question. I guess she's a thief, and she might not want to tell random people that. No, scratch that. That'd be a terrible idea. I guess I was just hoping to not keep spending 3 coppers a night.
Instead of answering, she again looks at my sack, then tentatively asks me "Tha e gu math thogail?" "Really stolen?" I'm not sure how this relates to my question but, "Tha gu math." "Yes." A speculative expression crosses her face, and I'm suddenly struck with the feeling that I'm in an interview, a realization that makes me uncomfortably certain where this is headed.
"Tha thu cuideachd ga thogail?" "Are you... thief?" I'm not sure what to think of my suspicion that the word I don't get means 'also'. I mean, I kinda knew she was since she went for my stuff, but... This implies more than being a passing target of opportunity. I'm not sure how to feel about the idea that an 8 year old kid identifies as a thief.
How to answer that? I have certainly done more of that than anything else since coming to this world, but it's not by goddamn choice! Something in me rebels at answering that question with anything but a resounding no. On the other hand, my bleeding heart does very much wonder if there's anything I can do for this kid. It doesn't make sense, and I should just leave well enough alone. I just decided to return to Ronain too.
But then I think about returning to Ronain and telling him all this, and I'm sure he'd be disappointed. A tiny, but insidious voice whispers in the back of my head that if they're thieves, and already outside the law, there's no possible way they'd be upset about my hair either, right?
"Tha gu math." "Yes."
She nods to herself, and sits there pondering for a while. After she finishes the last piece of bread, she stands up and starts walking away, before looking back to me.
"Tha mi a' dol." "Follow me."