The Girl and the Axe

The small girl walked among the market stalls, her head turning this way and that. Bare feet padded silently on the paving stones, with no concern for dampness, dirt, or mud. She dragged her doll along behind her, holding it by one porcelain hand, the doll's dangling legs dragging along the paving stones. The girl and the doll passed through the streets silently, searching, searching.

Eventually, she found what she was looking for. A stall outside of a blacksmith's forge. Within, the heat of the forge roared while the clanging of hammer on iron echoed out onto the streets. The blacksmith could be heard grumbling as he worked, each mutter of his breath punctuated by another strike on the anvil.

Outside, minding the stall, stood a younger boy. Various wares hung about on display: candle holders, simple tools, knobs and hinges, decorative wall hangings, belt buckles, and more. The boy hawked the wares, attempting to draw the attention of the various passerby.

Trinket stood before the stall, silent, studying the various items on display. Tools. Decorations. Hardware.

Boring.

Beyond the stall, inside the open front of the building, stood racks of more dangerous items, not to be kept out on the open street. Weapons for sale: swords, maces, daggers, flails. And one particular item that caught Trinket's eye: an axe.

The axe was small. No more than a hand axe, easily wielded in a man's single hand. Though it would be quite weighty to a small child. Quite too dangerous to be handled by such a small girl.

There was no easy access to the weapons. A barrier blocked the way, so only the boy in the stall could reach them. Trinket stared at the boy. He occasionally glanced her way, but mostly ignored her.

Finally, Trinket stepped forward. She pointed past the boy at the axe.

"I want that."

The boy frowned. He looked over his shoulder where she was pointing. Then he shook his head and laughed. "Go home to your father, girl."

Trinket stood perfectly still, her arm held straight, her finger pointing at the axe. "I want that. You are a trader. You give people what they want."

The boy snorted. "Yeah, not to little kids. And not for free. So get lost."

Trinket didn't move a muscle. Her eyes never wavered. The only movement came from the doll, turning its head to stare the boy down with its glassy black eyes.

"I want that," Trinket said once more. "Let's trade."

Soleil

Soleil is as at home in the swath of market stalls as she is in her own house. Most recognize her either as herself or as one of Sah’s children, and Halovians - despite gruffer attitudes at times - are more than willing to keep an eye on unaccompanied children. Communal raising was rather normal in such a small, hardy city.

They are just as familiar to Soleil in reverse, which is why she is simultaneously delighted and confused to find not only another child in the market, but one she doesn’t know. Hurrying over in a cloud of coils and furs that lie around her collar, Soleil catches the tail end of the argument, and her smile dims slightly. How rude!

Spinning to stand at the other girl’s side, Soleil puts her hands on her hips and frowns mightily at the older boy. “Why won’t you trade it to her?” Her sunny, bell-like voice is unaccustomed to these disappointed ranges, but she remembers vividly how Paige had saved Soleil’s own hide that day in Torchline’s market when she’d stolen the butcher’s meat to feed her and Jude. She had to repay the favor! Though as she looks over at her new companion (clearly decided on her own) she gasps at the girl’s bare feet. “Your feet! Are you sure we shouldn’t go find shoes first? Aren’t you cold?” Liquid amber irises shine with concern, immediately forgetting the forge master’s assistant in favor of the other girl.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

Trinket looked over at the other child, her arm still raised and pointing at the axe. The child looked to be about her age...or at least, the age she was created to approximate. When the girl approached and began questioning the blacksmith's assistant, Trinket's curiosity was piqued. Perhaps this would be an ally.

Before she could respond, the boy waved a hand at the girls, trying to shoo them away. "I don't trade weapons to little kids. Now get lost!"

Trinket lowered her arm, giving her attention to the girl for the moment. She held her doll against her chest. It had a soft cloth body with porcelain arms, legs, and head sewn on. The doll's black glass eyes turned towards the newcomer, looking straight into the girl's eyes.

Trinket glanced down at her feet. She had recognized the feeling of cold, but given it no thought. Her feet were, in fact, quite cold. She supposed it made sense to do something about that.

But after the axe.

"I am cold," Trinket said, her tone flat and emotionless. "But I need to get my axe first. Then we can go get shoes."

She looked over at the blacksmith's assistant. He was leaning against his market stall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the two children, though he kept glancing their way.

Trinket stepped closer to the other girl and said softly in her ear. "Do you want to play a game? If we get the axe, we win. And that boy loses."

Soleil

There’s quite a lot going on at once, from the boy’s harsh words to the girl’s pretty if bedraggled doll and Soleil’s own concern for the girl’s bare feet. “What if we just want to chop wood? Or we’re getting it for her daddy?” she asks stubbornly, trying to channel Paige’s bravery. Soleil has never really been treated cruelly before, so this is already far from what she’s used, mild as it is.

Turning to look back at her compatriot, Soleil - accustomed to magic well before her arrival in Caido - blinks quickly before smiling brightly. “Your doll is very pretty,” she whispers a little badly to the other girl, not wanting the assistant to sense weakness or childish fancy to lend strength to his argument.

Though she does brighten at the idea of a game. Naively, perhaps, she doesn’t consider the machinations as to how they will be obtaining the axe, only bobbing her head eagerly. [say“Okay! How should we get it?” Biting her lip with consideration, Soleil hums. “Sometimes wolves attack a different burrow hole to scare the prey out the other end. Something like that?” She’s gotten better at saying “wolves” instead of “we”, but most of her younger years she remembers being more animal than girl.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

"Yes," Trinket said. "I need the axe to chop wood. And split open the heads of my enemies."

She didn't really know how to split open someone's head, and she wasn't sure if she had any enemies, but the blacksmith had told her that was what axes are for.

She looked down at her doll, considering the other girl's praise. Trinket had never given any consideration for something being "pretty." She didn't know how to appraise how pretty something was. So she accepted her new friend's assessment. "Yes. She is very pretty."

She tilted her head to the side as the other girl laid out her plan. She was silent for a long moment, standing perfectly still, unmoving, unblinking. She tried to consider how the tactics of wolves would help them here. She looked over at the forge, trying to piece together the plan.

"The other burrow hole...we can scare the boy away from the market stall, to get past him to get the axe?" She wasn't quite sure if she understood what the girl was getting at, but she did consider it to be a good plan for the game.

Soleil

Soleil's dark brows furrow slightly, concerned as she leans back in to whisper to Trinket. "You have enemies?" She wants to ask further things, like 'are you safe?' or perhaps 'why?' but there is still the matter of the distracting doll and the boy that tries in vain to ignore them. She is far too polite to not reserve those questions for later.

Biting her lip as Trinket poses the idea in a different way, Soleil fusses with her coat buttons and realizes that while gophers and groundhogs are much easier and more fun to scare, scaring people seems a little too mean to her. "Well...maybe instead, I can distract him and make him leave the tent so you can go inside?" The same idea in reverse.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

"People are going to try to kill me," Trinket said, her tone dead serious. "I need to be able to split their heads before they kill me."

Trinket considered the other girl's idea. It seemed sound. She gave a small nod. "I'll wait near the door. When you distract him, I'll be ready."

Trinket set her doll down by the side of the road. It stood there under its own power. She gave it a simple command: Watch everyone. Dance.

The doll started doing an awkward little dance. Its cloth body was flexible enough, but the sewn-on porcelain arms and legs had no joints to move. But the dancing doll still drew attention to itself. The passerby looked down at the doll, ignoring the two girls in favor of the unusual sight before them. The entire time, the doll looked around, its glass black eyes watching everyone that passed by.

With the street crowd distracted, Trinket moved over towards the door. She gave the other girl a small nod. The blacksmith's assistant was ignoring the doll. It would be up to Trinket's new friend to distract him.

Soleil

Soleil worries her bottom lip between her teeth, concerned. Why do people want to hurt her friend? (For surely they are friends already, as far as Sol is concerned.) But before she can ask, for surely she will, they must accomplish this task first.

Puffing her chest up to try and inspire bravery physically, Soleil marches towards the edge of the stall with the larger wares leaning against racks, and - after checking that she’s just out of sight of the boy - collapses dramatically. Clutching her knee (which, incidentally, she had sort of bonked in the fall) the little girl begins to wail. Crocodile tears come easy, and every head not focused on the dancing doll swivels immediately towards her - including the boy in the stall, who is undeniably still the closest to the scene of the “crime”. “I-It cut me!” she warbles in her teary tone, and the boy’s face seems to struggle between paling and flushing as he immediately ducks around the counter to hurry towards her. “I told you you’re too young to mess around with these things! Now look what happened!” he scolds, and Soleil resolutely keeps her knee covered to buy her friend some time as the boy kneels next to her to try and get a better look.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

Trinket showed no hesitation. As soon as the boy was out of the way, she commanded the gate before her to open. The gate swung open, and she stepped inside. She put a hand on the axe and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. It took both of her hands to haul it off the rack.

She dragged it away without looking back. Once she had the axe in hand, she could dangle it at her side with one hand, though it would take both hands to swing it. She walked softly, patiently away, drawing no attention to herself.

Once she was around the corner, she commanded her doll: come. The doll stopped dancing and toddled off. The passerby--those that weren't focused on the crying girl--wandered off once the little show was over.

Trinket stood down a side alley, just out of sight of the blacksmith's helper. She waited for her friend to return.

This girl was fun to play with. She was sure they could come up with more games.