[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Qxh8doE.png[/img][/center] [center][h1][b][color=d7beef]Freedom[/color][/b][/h1][sub][color=A69CAF][b]is[/b][/color][/sub] [h3][i][color=9788A4]Enslaved II[/color][/i][/h3][/center] [hr] The world was a gray fog when Ema startled awake with a bump. The Aelos was immediately aware that she was moving. And the night's journey resurfaced in her mind. She had walked with that elf man out of the city, led like some cattle. Many had gawked and stared but Ema only tried to focus on her own feet walking. One step at a time. The Lord Drakken, as she was told by him, was a man of thought and expectation. If she fell behind to the point the chain tightened between master and slave, he pulled at it with little fanfare and Ema hurried on. When they had reached the camp he had spoken about her with glee and Ema had been put inside a wagon with an iron cage. His men stared at her and spoke of the night's events. Ema wasn't really paying attention until the cage opened and a man with similar features to the Lord, placed a small figure inside with her. So they were slavers it seemed. When only one of the men remained to act as a guard, did Ema look at who she shared a cell with. A young girl with dark hair and pale skin, fast asleep. She looked quite cold and a small fleeting thought came to Ema. She wished she had a blanket to give. Fleshlings being unable to regulate themselves… She sighed but could do nothing. Morning light, with its bright uncaring demeanor, peaked over the hills, banishing the twilight of the world with bright colors. Orange was chiefest among them, tinged with reds and yellows. She could not remember the last time she had seen such a sunrise. Nor if she'd see anymore. They were heading on a long winding road, pulled by some sort of beast of burden through the green countryside as the birds sang to the dawn. It was a caravan of sorts and the men were many, riding horses and talking to themselves. She could not see the Lord. Their driver looked back now and again, a youthful face. Too young, she thought. Soon it would be a fleeting image, replaced with one old and wrinkled, if he managed to survive for that long. She looked back at the sleeping girl, wondering how old she was and how she ended up at the hands of such people. How long would it be before her innocence was gone? If she had any, that was, catching herself. Far too often did she assume what she saw was truth before understanding not every face should be taken at a first value. A trick she learned from the smiths, who so often had to check for impurities in the metal they wrought. Ema looked back to the land outside the bars. Tall grasses with grazing cattle passed them, guarded by men who gave them all stern looks as they gripped their saddles. But she focused on the flowers in bloom for a time. Wondering where they were even going. She hadn't a clue but the way the Lord had looked at her… She knew it wouldn't be good. But, as she curled into a ball, Ema knew dead things didn't care what happened to their corpses. No, they shouldn't care at all. [hr] Waking was an agonizing act. Wherein being asleep was serene and blissful, being awake was such stress and brutality. An onslaught of sensations - overwhelming. Kyoko slowly stirred, shedding the soft shroud of sleep and acquiring the weight of the world with a sigh. Her body ached; bones and muscles in mutiny against her before her belly began the assault. She spewed blood and bile from her mouth, sickened stomach releasing all the filthy fluids through her throat, and she choked, and she coughed, until the terrible urges concluded with weak utterances. Empty. Exhausted. She shivered and silently cried, straining to smile too. She called upon any remnants of strength and attempted to seat herself, to try to take in her shifting surroundings, so different during the day. The sunlight seared her sight, and she closed her eyes as she called out to her companions: “Rat? Steed? Where am I?” There came the shifting of something heavy, like a weight being moved about before it settled. She was not alone but it wasn’t Rat or Steed. Leaning against the iron bars of the cage, for that was where she happened to be, was a strange thing. Cool blue eyes, glowing with awareness stared at her with an impassive face of feminine features. A metallic face, like a mask. It said nothing but just stared at her. “Who are you?” Kyoko asked, squinting at the strange shape. Her voice was hoarse, and she swiftly began the futile act of cleaning herself, brushing her cheeks with stained sleeves. She remembered some of the scenes prior to sleep, and recalled the danger she sensed within Darwyn. She shook; seething, sorrowful, scared. A voice broke forth, emanating from the figure, who not only wore a face of metal but somehow, some way, had a body of armor, woven into a lithe shape but nicked with time and wear. But the voice, it felt like a voice out of a different time, ringing with clarity and forlorn strength. “Are you dying?” She asked, (for it sounded like a woman) ignoring her own question. “Am I dying…” Kyoko echoed, easing herself back against the iron bars that trapped her. The foul stench stuck to her. She was also aware of the presence of the Stigma that scarred her skin beneath the clothes she wore. Somehow, she could comprehend her sickness, the affliction that came upon sorcerers when they consumed aspects of the cosmos. The term cannibalism came to mind, but she banished the thought swiftly and smirked slightly afterwards. “Maybe I’m a confused spirit.” She said, head swaying while she struggled to stay awake. Her companions were spirits, and through what little she was capable of recalling from her dream, so was her mother. Memories were a mystery to Kyoko. Knowledge too. “Are you an Astalonian Prime?” She asked, studying the appearance of the one entrapped with her, accompanying her to wherever they were going. Her blurred vision became more clear, and she could see they were traveling with the soldiers from the night before. "I am not familiar with that term." The figure said, leaning forward. Dexterous hands tapped upon her own leg with a dull, rhythmic sound. "Spirit or not, does your kind eject those contents without having some sort of sickness or damage on the inside? Poisoned, perhaps?" She kept saying, as if talking to herself. “Hmm… What happens when you fill a cup already full?” Kyoko asked, and the mention of ailments called her attention to her arms. Her skin felt hot underneath the touch of her sleeves, and she swiftly pulled the silken material aside to see strange swirling symbols spreading across her flesh. A word written somewhere within her soul seemed to speak, and she said aloud without comprehension or connotation: “Gnosis.” No meanings manifested in her mind, and she stared at the shifting patterns that seared her pale flesh, forming writing which was indecipherable. She recalled something the Rat of Remembrance had said; they must travel to a library where a reader awaited them. She turned her attention to the metallic figure again. “Where are we going? Do you know?” "It overfills…?" Came the reply to her first question in the form of a question. The metallic woman then shook her head and seemed to look at the same patterns on her skin but made no comment on it. Instead she dragged her knees to her chest and turned away from Kyoko. "A slave does not ask for a destination. A slave only goes where the master goes." She said in a tired voice, at least she sounded tired. "Hide your skin." She added and then said no more. “A slave?” Sleeves hid the shifting symbols once more as she inquired softly about the strange term she heard. A series of images and applications appeared in her mind, meanings without meanings, as she wondered where she was without receiving an answer that showed her the way to who she was. “I’m Kyoko.” She simply said, introducing herself - however incapable of bowing properly because of her current position and pain. Her hunger had already returned despite how she retched earlier, and awareness of what would happen whenever she would eat again. The metal woman's face snapped back to her. She studied Kyoko again. "A slave." She nodded, "One who serves another. It's forced bondage. No freedom of our own. A worker with no rights." She looked to the floor. "Ironheart." She said, "You may call me that, Kyoko." “Who do we serve, Ironheart?” The question felt quite like a lost key to a quizzical door. "The Lord Drakken, who purchased me from my old master yesterday." Ironheart responded, pulling herself tighter. "Now you serve as well, no doubt, and through force if need be. That is slavery, Kyoko." She sighed, "Though, you're young," she glanced at her, "You might be sold to someone else. Your type works better indoors. You don't look like one who has many skills. Moldable to one's needs." She looked away and seemed to shudder, if metal could shudder. “Do you desire to be somewhere else?” Kyoko asked, another question that seemed a step closer to the metaphorical mysterious door. Ironheart did not speak nor look at Kyoko for a time. "Dead things have no desires." She eventually said, the words hollow and full of misery. Before Kyoko could say anything else, someone rode back to their wagon cage and slowed. It was Darwyn, smiling a toothy smile. "Ahhh Kyoko, you're awake. Good, very good. I wasn't sure if the drug would work on someone so strange but rest assured, here we are." He said, leering at her. "To think it would have been so easy, I still can't believe it. Ah but where are my manners? How are you doing, miss spirit talker?" He laughed. “Where are we going?” She asked, acerbic, an absence of humor in her heart. She found she did not enjoy the feeling of being within a cage while this man laughed. Her attention turned to Ironheart, and the thought of the two of them trapped here was hurting her head. The metallic woman made no sign of even acknowledging Darwyn. She just looked at the floor with empty eyes. Darwyn laughed again and then his smile became less until only a frown remained. “It seems you’ve grown a little, pity. I was hoping to get some more fun out of you yet but eh.” he shrugged. “We’ll have plenty of time.” he tossed a bit of bread at her that slid between the bars and landed in her vomit. He scoffed, “Try to keep that down, would you? Water will come later. Don’t make any racket, we hate unwanted attention.” His eyes glanced at Ironheart, “I can see why my brother wanted you. One of a kind.” With that he glanced at Kyoko again and sneered, then kicked his horse and he was away. Her hands reached for the bread, regardless of the filth, and she stared at the food she held with whining hunger whispering in her eyes. “Why?” She lamented, before shoving the bread into her mouth and munching happily. Whatever hesitation had halted her before biting into the terrible-tasting bit of supposed sustenance was swiftly gone. Yet her hunger sought more, a meager portion not enough to satisfy her stomach. “Hey! Bring me more!” She shouted, attempting to shake the cage as she held onto the bars with what little strength she had. "Quiet!" The young man driving the wagon snapped, having turned with angry eyes to look at Kyoko. "It'll be both our backs if you don't shut it." He said in a heavy accent. “Fetch me food then!” Kyoko retorted, turning her attention to the driver and angrily shifting closer. Weak with lingering sickness, she stumbled and swayed, but she refused to stay silent until she received more bread. “Give me something to eat… please.” She added, also attempting to be polite. The young man, with bright blue eyes and sandy colored hair that swept past his eyes, looked at her in bewilderment. Then he shook his head. “I ain’t got nothing for you, go sit and be quiet. We don’t want them to come back here.” He hissed. “You just have to go and find some. I will be seated and silent with something to eat. Otherwise I’ll shout.” She refused to surrender - resolve burning in her belly, demanding to be doused in drink and food. The young man was about to say something else but he seemed to notice something she did not. Within seconds a hand covered Kyoko’s mouth and another wrapped around her waist. Hard and cold, an iron-like grip. Ironheart’s voice was but a whisper in her ear, “This side of you, bratty and full of greed, I don’t like it. Look at him. Does he look like he has food? That he could go and get you food?” She asked in a calm manner, as the young man turned back to the front. “He was skin and bones- a slave, just like us. You would bring both harm to yourself and him if you keep acting spoiled. You don’t want to be whipped, Kyoko. Trust me. Now be calm and patient. Nod if you understand.” Her mouth moved before her mind could convey she understood, and after tasting metal upon her tongue as she tried to munch ahead, or specifically a hand, she simply shuddered. Eating Ironheart would not be an option either. She swiftly regained command of herself and nodded angrily. Ironheart let go fully of Kyoko and backed up from her. “I know you by name only, Kyoko. But what I can tell is that this is a new experience for you. An unknown. So here’s a lesson, don’t doom others through your own foolish actions.” The metallic lady went back to her side of the cage and sat down, dragging her knees close and then bending her head in between them. “Should I starve then? I’m so hungry!” She complained, seating herself as well. Stillness could not come, and she continually shuffled herself while whispering sardonic comments. “Keep the bread down. Then you may complain.” Ironheart chimed back. “You’re a malicious machine; mocking my suffering.” Kyoko moaned, tossing and turning herself away from Ironheart. She closed her eyes, and sought to see what was happening to the bread within her stomach. Shadows shrouded her sight, clinging to what she consumed as though her body rebelled against her attempt at recalling the relief of filling herself. The machine didn't speak, nor show any sign of acknowledging her suffering. The only other sound at all was the slow steady beat of the wagon being pulled and hoofbeats. Carrying them to someplace neither knew. [hider=Summary] Kyoko and Ema awake in a cage, on their way to somewhere likely terrible. [/hider]