Brichtrede kicked at the marine again, her baby clutched to her chest as she lasted out like a feral thing at the man. "Don't you touch me" she snarled. The island had already taken her partner, she would not let her child go so easily.
The marine in question struggled to get his breath back, doubled over and wheezing. "I'm just doing what they told me...."
"Roger didn't have nuttin' to do with this island, and you bastards all know it."
"I don't know anything but my orders, ma'am -"
"Don't you dare! don't you /ma'am/ me after you tried to steal my SON!"
her son, the babe in question, whined where she clutched him tight, and she bounced him lightly on her hip, attention drifting over to the cart of children the marine has been 'escorting' when he'd stopped her son.
Tiny little faces started back, confused and scared.
"They're unwanted" the marine said, following her gaze. "We've got schools and homes off island waiting for them. Most of them don't have any family left, a few that did.... would rather sell them off than keep them." he at least sounded as disturbed as she felt at the revelation.
"Buy em up and then you'll have an never ending supply of cheap little soldiers." She caught the eyes of one little boy - pale pale blue and wide. He wasn't crying like the others, but looked back at her pleading and scared. He could be more than three. Four at the absolute oldest, hands not even big enough to wrap all the way around the bars.
Fodder for the World Government might be kinder than staying on Kutsukku.
"Let them go."
"Ma'am, they don't have anyone-"
"Kutsukku is not part of your rule. We don't answer to you. You sure as hell don't get to waltz in here and just start taking things."
"Hey, we paid for a fair few of them - "
"Slaves. you buy slaves of us"
He balked at the word slave but said nothing. Brichtrede tightened her hold on her son but stepped up into the man's face. "Let them go."
<><><>
Most of the little ones did aperatnyl have people waiting for them at home; Brichtrede noticed them more now out and about on the streets, shy little faces clinging to siblings or behind the tall legs of a parent. maybe they had been one sold, but none looked any worse than the day she'd watch them flee from the cart.
Some of them recognized her still. A few would point her out to their minders and she'd exchange little chats - they'd thank her for freeing their child, they'd coo over her little one, and then they'd vanish back in to the streets. Little waves were still exchanged from time to time, but by the summer's end their meeting was forgotten by all parties.
A few others wouldn't make it pass the winter - she'd watch the little funeral processions with a heavy heart. would they have been better off alive with the marines in the end? As the weather turned and food grew scare, she'd hear about the little ones found with no one to morn them. How many of her little ones died alone.
maybe that's why when she sees the little boy with the blues eyes, she approaches first.
[[southern hemisphere!! finx dates]]
He's all alone, maybe he has been the whole time; Bricherede does know that he's far to under dressed for january and in the 9 months since she saw him last he doesn't look any bigger. any baby fat that he had is long gone, and he's so dirty the only colouring she's sure of is those blue eyes.
and Kidd - bless him - breaks the ice before she has to think of what to say. he's babbling none stop these days, and grabbing anything in reach. and now he's got his eyes on the little boy, kicking and stretching, making grabby hands. the boy had been watching her warily when she'd crossed the street to him, but at the sight of the 12 month old, he's face softens.
"hi!' he chirps, smiling at the baby, wagging his fingers in a little wave. Kidd tries to grab his hands, and the boy's smile dims a little, and he keeps out well out of reach.
Kidd find this to be an affuont to him, looks up at his mother and cries, still trying to grab for the little boy, "ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!"
