[Memory, Mature] Becoming

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Ava Weaver
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Tue Jul 30, 2019 6:24 pm

Late Night, 18 Dentis 2708
Somewhere in Uptown
N
ellie threw herself at the watchman, small and ferocious and utterly terrified.

“Wot – “ The watchman didn’t even stumble as Nellie hit him, looking down at the small girl in her white nightgown. He grabbed at her, and Nellie sunk her teeth into his arm.


“EY!” The watchman yelled, and shook his arm, hard, throwing the little girl back into the wall of the house. Nellie shrieked as her shoulder smacked against it, sobbing now.

“GET HER!” Ms. Burns yelled from the other end of the alley. “Get the little one!” She ran forward, ungainly and uncomfortable, huffing for breath after just a few steps, keys jangling noisily.

Emelia had made it past the watchman, but only just. He turned – he wasn’t quick, but he was large, much larger than the little girls, and he caught Emelia in a few strides, grabbing her arm with an outstretched hand. If she fought, he’d effortlessly lift her off the ground, one hand covering her mouth to keep her from screaming, pinning her back against him.

“NO!” Nellie screamed, shoving herself back off the wall. “NO, EMMIE!”

“That’s enough out of you!” Ms. Burns hissed. She grabbed hold of Nellie’s arm, yanking her back against the wall, and slapped her smartly across the face with her other hand. “Enough!”

“No!” Nellie shrieked, pulling. She shook with the effort, every bit of her straining away from the woman. She pulled as hard as she could, but it didn’t make any difference; the woman’s hand, large and strong from years of kneading and pulling and cleaning and scrubbing, held the younger girl in place. If it wasn’t effortless – it was still effective. “No,” Nellie was sobbing, too, again or maybe still. “HELP!” She screamed.

Ms. Burns slapped her again, and Nellie sobbed, harder, eyes squeezing shut.

“Give her to me,” Ms. Burns said, gesturing. She took Emelia from Grey, hefted her over one shoulder like a bag of flour, and began to carry her back inside. “Yell anymore,” Ms. Burns said, scowling, to Emelia, “and I’ll shove this apron in your mouth, girlie.”

There was a split second – just a split second – when Ms. Burns had let go of Nellie and Grey hadn’t yet taken hold. Nellie, shoulder aching, face smarting, sobbing still – took her chance. She ducked Grey’s hand and ran, bare feet flailing against the ground. If she made it – if she got free – she would come back for Emelia, Nellie promised herself. She wouldn’t leave her behind – she would never leave her behind –

But Grey caught her, as easily as he had the younger girl. Nellie fought – she struggled, desperately, her nightgown smeared with dirt and bits of leaves in her messy, tangled black hair, her face streaked with tears and smeared with dust – but Grey hefted her up over his shoulder, and followed after Ms. Burns, Nellie sobbing piteously against his back.

Ms. Burns opened up the small linen cupboard next to the kitchen with her keys, and tossed Emelia inside – not gently, either, the little girl landing roughly against a stack of kitchen cloths. Grey shoved Nellie in after her. At some point, both little girls had lost their black shoes - left somewhere outside, or maybe on the floor in the kitchen, left with scratched bare feet and no way to cover them.

“NO!” Nellie screamed. She flung herself at the door as it shut, small fists pounding against the wood, and both girls heard it lock, firmly. All the same, Nellie grabbed at the handle and tried to turn it, straining, until she was sobbing and her hands ached from the effort. Nellie stood, panting for breath at the door, and sobbed a little harder, resting her head against the wood.

“You stay in there and you be quiet!” Ms. Burns snapped through the door. “Madam will be here to deal with you soon enough.”

After a moment – tear-stained and still crying – Nellie turned back to Emelia. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Emmie – I’m so sorry – ” Nellie stumbled the few feet back across the tiny closet and collapsed on a heap of folded bed things, half-tucked beneath the shelves built into the back wall. She drew her knees up to her chest, buried her face in them, and sobbed so hard it hurt, each desperate sound ripping itself from her throat.

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Raksha
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Sat Aug 17, 2019 3:35 am

18th Dentis, 2708
VIENDA| LATE NIGHT
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Nellie was screaming, the Monster was yelling, the Beast was huffing and Emelia was running. Running as fast as her little legs would go, but it wasn’t fast enough. She screamed for help as the watchman grabbed, her making a cry of pain as he manhandled her by one arm to hold her against him, hand over her mouth. The little girl sobbed, kicking her bare feet wildly and looking at Nellie with wide eyes as the Beast grabbed her and slapped her.

Nellie was supposed to be the hero but. She was supposed to get them out. She promised.

“Give her to me,”

Emmie squirmed as the Monster handed her over, protesting with tiny fists and furious angry cries. The Beastly cook scared her, stronger than she looked, and the little brunette watched her shoes fall from her neck to the ground before trying to tilt herself upside down to see Nellie.

She was running this time. Away from Emelia. Away from here. Lower lip pouting as tears rolled thickly from her eyes, vision blurring. Nellie had to run away, because she could tell her mummy and daddy and come get Emmie. She could come back for Emmie, just like she was gonna come back for Nellie.

But it didn’t matter. The Monster was too fast, the Beast to strong. Emelia wept, a open childish sobbing, heart broken and afraid and a little bit sore. When the Beast threw her in the cupboard, the child let out a cry—ouch!—sobbing even more dejectedly. Saucerlike green eyes looked up at the adults, rubbing her elbow and reaching for Nellie when she too tumbled into the cupboard and darkness fell around them as the door slammed shut. But the older girl was already fighting with the door handle, angry and loud and crying. Emmie wiped her hands across her cheeks to no avail, there were still more tears to be shed.

The brave big girl came to settle beside her, tucking her knees up and sobbing in the dark, and the younger scooted closer with a snuffle.

“S’ok Nellie, you don’t haf’to say sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s the Beast’s fault. S’ok.” She reached to pat the other girl on the back, trying her best to help Nellie feel better. The sound of the girl crying only made her want to cry more, and she spoke with a thick hitch of breath.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry it’ll be okay. It’s their fault really. They left the door unlocked. S’not our fault and they are stupid and mean. But don’t cry Nellie.” The child said shakily, putting an arm around her friend and trying her best to hug her, just like Nellie hugged her sometimes.

“We’ll be okay.” Emmie said, too little to really know what consequences lay on the other side of the locked door, too innocent to know what happened to naughty girls who tried to run away from the house.

“When Miss Genevria comes, I’ll tell her I did it. I made you come with me and I opened the door. I stole the keys. I ran away first. You didn’t do nothing. It was me. Then they will let you go. They haf’to.” She smacked a small fist into her hand, brow drawn together and jaw jutting with fierce six year old determination. They couldn't be angry at Nellie if she didn't do nothing wrong, and Emelia was sure she was little enough to escape with far less punishment than the older girl.

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Ava Weaver
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Sat Aug 17, 2019 9:57 am

Late Night, 18 Dentis 2708
Somewhere in Uptown
N
ellie knew she was scaring Emelia; the smaller girl was patting her, hugging her as best as she could, telling her over and over that it would be okay. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and told the tears to stop, firmly.

It wasn’t quite that easy, but Nellie felt her breath hitch back under control; she felt herself relax, just a little, and she could uncurl enough to wrap her arms around Emelia in return, cuddling the smaller girl against her chest.

“No,” Nellie sniffled. “No, Emmie, you can’t,” Nellie stroked Emmie’s dark hair. She didn’t know how to tell the other girl that they wouldn’t let her go; they would never let either of them go. Nellie couldn’t imagine what it would take. She knew - she knew, already, she knew - that what Madam wanted, she got. 

“I’ll – I’ll explain,” Nellie promised. “You don’t – you don’t have to worry, Emmie, I’ll – I’ll find a way to – ” Nellie squeezed her eyes shut; she knew there were tears leaking down her cheeks again, but she tried her best to make her voice strong. “Since I’m older, they won’t – they won’t believe it was your idea, so I’d – I’d better – explain. Yeah? But don’t – don’t worry, we’ll – we’ll wait, and – next time, next time we’ll – we’ll escape, and we’ll go home.” There was a little fierceness to her then, a hot, aching feeling that Nellie clung to, maybe even more desperately than Emelia.

It was a long dark wait in the closet. Nellie would hold Emelia close as long as she wanted, would even let the other girl sleep against her, if she could manage it. Nellie didn’t sleep though; she couldn’t. Every time she started to doze off, she would think she had heard footsteps in the hall - would think they were coming - and it would jolt her painfully, abruptly awake, terror thrumming through her veins once more.

And then - finally - it was true.

The door slammed open, and Ms. Burns stood there, hands on her hips. “Now you’re in for it,” she grabbed one girl’s arm in each heavy hand, hauling them up out of the closet. She dragged them across the house, walking quickly enough that even Nellie would stumble, all the way to the big office that Madam used. The older woman had a heavy black and blue bruise on one cheek, with a little cut in the midst if it. A trickle of blood had dripped down from the bottom of it and made a track over the edge of her chin, visible even in the darkness of the hallways at night.

“You,” Ms. Burns snapped at Emelia. “You stay here.” She thrust the little girl roughly against the wall outside of the door. “Make one sound,” Ms. Burns said, firmly, “and I’ll make you wish as you’d never been born.”

“You,” Ms. Burns looked at Nellie. “In there.” She let go of Nellie’s arm, gesturing her at the dark crack of the open door.

Nellie looked at Emelia. She nodded, once, firmly, then looked back at the door. Slowly, Nellie pushed it open and stepped inside. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she wasn’t crying, not again, and when she walked forward it was with her small back straight, her chin up, and her shoulders square. Ms. Burns shut the door behind her, firmly, and scowled down at Emelia.

Nellie walked slowly into the room – step by step – and she stopped in front of the desk. She could feel herself starting to tremble, the whole of her little body shaking. She stared at the beautiful, elegant woman sitting behind it, wearing a red satin dress that Nellie thought looked as bright as blood.

“Ava,” The woman Nellie knew as Madam – Miss Genevria, Nellie reminded herself, she knew Madam’s real name – smiled at her in a way that made Nellie feel sick. She was beautiful – she was just as beautiful as she had been the first time Nellie had seen her – but she was terrifying too, like the waves of the Tincta Basta crashing into the pier during a storm, so hard that it seemed like it would go straight through the wood.

“Sit down,” Madam gestured at the chairs in front of the desk.

Nellie swallowed, hard, and, slowly, sat down in the chair, gripping the arms with her hands.

Madam rose from behind the desk, came around the it, and settled herself into the other chair in front of it. She had a way of sitting straighter than Nellie had ever seen anyone sit, perfectly upright, but she made it look comfortable, like she sat that way naturally, without a single wrinkle in the fabric of her long red skirt. “Ava, Ava, Ava.” Each repetition of the name felt like a slap against Nellie’s face. “What were you thinking, little dear?”

“I’m NELLIE!” The words burst out; Nellie screamed her name, small slight body shaking in the chair. “I’m not Ava! I’m Nellie – Nellie Tucker!” she was all but sobbing, breathless but she summoned the words anyway, letting them echo out of some deep space in her chest. “I’m not Ava,” she choked the words out again, taking a deep breath and looking back up at Madam with wide eyes. “I’m going to – to get out of here,” she said with all the fierceness she could muster, and her voice shook.

Madam was smiling. Her head tilted slightly to the side, her long sheath of utterly smooth pale red hair waving gently with the movement. “Get out of here?” The words were rough on her tongue, sounded wrong with her cool galdori accent. “And go where?”

“Home,” Nellie sobbed the word at her, hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly her hands ached. She chewed at her lip, anxious, looking away, letting go. The air around her felt like it was pulsing softly, woobly with something that Nellie didn’t understand, couldn’t understand.

“Home,” Madam laughed. “Nellie Tucker wants to go home,” the name sounded like a curse on her blood red lips. “Don’t you remember? Don’t you understand?” She reached forward, one slim graceful hand grasping Nellie’s chin, holding it tight. “Look at me, now,” she lifted Nellie’s chin until the girl’s dark eyes met her blue ones. She was smiling still, but it didn’t reach her eyes; they were hard and flat.

Nellie tried to look away, whimpering, and Madam’s hand tightened, gently, holding her in place.

“They don’t want you,” Madam said. Her tone was gentle, but her words weren’t. Her eyes weren’t. Nellie could see the faintest bit of something on the lids of them, some color she hadn’t seen from further away. “Do you want to know what you cost me? How little I had to pay them?”

Nellie shuddered – sobbed once, tried to shake her head. Madam turned her chin for her, from side to side, slowly, then brought her face back to center, so she couldn’t look away anymore.

“Your uncle warned me about you, you know. He said you were troublesome and no better than you ought to be,” There was some twist to Madam’s words, what Nellie knew now to call a cadence, one that sparked a familiarity in her chest. “He said your mother would be glad to see you gone.”

“No,” Nellie whispered. “No,” Tears streamed down her cheeks, coursing over the faint bruise on one of them.

“Yes,” Madam corrected. “Yes,” she paused, but before Nellie could take a breath she was speaking again. “There’s nowhere left for Nellie to go, little dear. Your uncle doesn’t want Nellie; your mother doesn’t want Nellie.”

Nellie’s breath caught in another sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake her head again, feeling the soft tendrils of her broken braid tickling her neck, or maybe it was the bits of leaves tucked in amidst the strands.

“Open your eyes,” Madam said, calmly.

Nellie tried to shake her head again; it was held in place tightly, too tightly, and another choked sob shook her whole body.

“Open your eyes,” Madam repeated herself, the same calm voice. Nellie couldn’t hear any difference but there was something in the air around her, something that prickled over her skin, and despite herself her eyes opened.

“No one wants Nellie,” Madam said, gently, her gaze boring into Nellie’s own. “You remember, don’t you? When your uncle gave you to me,” the words hung in the air between them for a long moment, another, heavy enough to bruise Nellie’s chest.

“No,” Nellie whispered. “No, he didn’t – he didn’t. It was a dream. It was – it was a dream,” her voice trailed off into nothing, faint and high.

“He did,” Madam said. “He took you out of your bed, brought you out of his house and handed you to me. He was glad of it. Nobody wants Nellie.” A breath, another, Nellie’s soft sobs the only sound left. Nellie squeezed her eyes shut again.

“But you don’t have to be Nellie anymore,” Madam’s voice was so low that even with them inches apart Nellie had to strain to hear her over the tight choking breaths in her throat. She strained, desperate for the words despite herself. Her eyes opened again, slowly. “You can be Ava now, if you behave.”

Nellie whimpered.

Madam was smiling again. It scared Nellie; it scared her like nothing ever had. “Say your name for me,” she said. “Say, ‘My name is Ava, Madam.’”

Nellie shuddered. She tried to pull back again; there was nowhere to go, and the tickling, tingling pressure on her skin increased, closing like water over her head. “My name is Ava, Madam,” she choked the words out when she couldn’t handle it anymore, when she thought she would drown.

“Good,” Madam smiled a little wider. Now it reached her eyes, and somehow it was even worse. “That’s a good girl. What’s your name?”

Nellie shuddered. “Ava, Madam,” she whispered, tears trickling steadily down her cheeks, snot running from her nose.

“Good,” Madam was still smiling, just the same as before. “Now, Ava, I will punish you for your misbehavior tonight. You understand that I must punish you, don’t you? Tell me.”

“I understand, Madam,” she said.

“I deserve this punishment, Madam,” Madam said, calmly. “Say it to me. Make me believe it.”

“I deserve this punishment, Madam,” she said, eyes trying to pull away before lifting up once more, meeting the galdor’s gaze with all the bravery she had left in her chest.

Madam let go of her, sitting back. Her voice rose in foreign, harsh syllables, echoing and filling the air.

As she stood outside, watched closely by Ms. Burns, Emelia would hear first Nellie’s voice carrying through the door, bursting out with her name, then only faint murmurs, indistinguishable other than as conversation; once, a high, tight sob. Then there came the screams: sharp, high-pitched noises, cutting through the air, echoing down the muted halls as the pre-dawn light began to trickle in through the high windows.

When Emelia came back to their little room, she would find her roommate curled up there, hidden so only a few strands of dark hair could be seen. Emelia had seen her taken from the office by one of the older girls, dragged past Emelia shaking and pale, but Mrs. Burns had already been grabbing at Emelia's arm, taking her inside.

Now, the older girl was crying softly, hitching little sobs that made the soft pile of blankets quiver; she didn't look up at the sound of the door.

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Mon Sep 09, 2019 6:29 pm

18th Dentis, 2708
VIENDA| LATE NIGHT
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Emelia didn’t sleep. Not a little bit, not at all. She lay in the dark, green eyes wide and staring from Nellies lap towards the sliver of light that beamed just under the door. Time ticked by, minutes or houses it was impossible to say. Sometimes they felt the same when you were six, but they weren’t the same really.

The little girl saw the shadows of feet at the same time they heard the stomping, scrambling to sit up and launching into fresh tears when the Beast grabbed for them. Trying to keep up with small legs, Emmie tripped, dragged along as she tried to find her feet to almost run alongside the mean old cook. Her eyes scanned the house ahead of them, knowing the doorway they were headed to.

“No! Miss Burns no!” She wailed, dirty fingers tugging uselessly at the woman’s vicelike grip, gasping in terror and shock when the Beast shoved her hard against the wall and growled at her to shut up and stay there. Looking at Nellie with wild eyes, she shook her head when the girl nodded firmly.

“It was me! It was me!” Emmie shouted uselessly as the door shut heavily, shying back from the cook as she growled down at her.

Leaning against the wall, Emelia slid down, sitting on the floor and straining to hear through the hard wood and plaster, unable to distinguish anything except soft murmurs. Except when Nellie screamed her own name. A fresh wave of terrified tears poured down her cheeks, and she looked up at the cook who all but beamed in her hateful joy.

“Little girls should do as they are told.” She chuckled, before the sounds of Nellie’s pained screams flooded the house. Emelia squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands hard against her ears, but it didn’t help. She could feel the sound, reverberating through her every nerve ending. When they came to take her away, Emmie kicked and shouted and lashed out with tiny fists, but they picked her up and took her anyway. Away from Nellie and to her own fate.

Later, much later, Emelia opened the door to her shared room with a shaking hand. She hadn’t had to scream, not like Nellie had. The man with the burgundy coat hadn’t let the Madam, he had argued. He had threatened to take Emmie away and that was too much. The little girl had wailed for Nellie, pleaded to stay with Nellie. They’d made her leave then, still talking about grown up things Emmie didn’t understand.

“Nellie?” She said quietly as she entered the room, shutting the door and approaching the bed. Dragging a small stool from under the bed, she climbed up, sitting at the end of the bed and staring at the older girl.

“Nellie?” The child asked again, scared more of the quiet sobs than maybe even the screaming. What had they done?

What had she done?

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Ava Weaver
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Mon Sep 09, 2019 9:29 pm

Early Morning, 19 Dentis 2708
Somewhere in Uptown
Nellie didn’t respond to Emelia’s soft calling across the room; she didn’t respond to the sound of the door shutting, or the click of the lock from outside, the heavy footsteps of whomever had escorted the little girl leaving back down the hallway. She didn’t look up as Emelia crossed the room; she stayed, curled up and crying, beneath the blankets.

But the bed creaked softly beneath Emelia’s slight weight, and when she called out again, soft and scared, the huddle of blankets shifted.

Nellie sat up, slowly, scrubbing at her face with the back of her hand. She couldn’t smile at first, although she tried. She sniffled, and swallowed, hard. She wanted to tell Emelia she was all right; she wanted to promise that they would both be all right. She wanted to promise that next time - next time -

“And go where?” Madam’s voice seemed to echo softly in her head.

Nellie flinched, and looked away, and drew the blankets up a little higher.

“I’m sorry, Emmie,” Nellie whispered, finally, looking at the small girl. “I’m sorry,” she couldn’t - tears spilled down her cheeks again. Nellie drew her knees up to her chest, the blanket pooled in lump over her, and cried into her hands again, trembling and sniffling.

Nellie shuddered; she tried to find the courage that had been in her chest. She tried -

“Don’t you remember?”

Nellie took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes again. She looked back up at Emelia, and opened her arms a little wider, beckoning the small girl forward for a hug. “Did they - did they hurt you?” Nellie’s voice cracked on the word, and she swallowed, hard, blinking uselessly against the tears.

Nowhere to go, Nellie thought. No one wanted her. Not quite no one; she held Emelia close, trying not to hug her too tight. They hadn’t hurt Emelia; she promised they hadn’t. But Nellie couldn’t help the aching fear that lanced through her at the news that they might move her, at the thought of being alone in this awful place, at the thought of Emelia alone too.

Nellie took a deep breath, and found what she needed to say. “You’d - you’d better call me Ava,” she whispered, softly. “It’ll - it’ll -“ Nellie faltered a little, tears sliding down the cheeks again. She rubbed her runny nose on her sleeve, sniffled, and tried again. “It’ll be easier that way,” Nellie whispered, and did her best to pretend that she was all right.

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