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It had been a sweep and a half since the day that had ruined her life, closing onto her wriggling day. It wasn't a day she really "celebrated," but it was still a day. She was close to being eight sweeps old. Finally an adult in the globes of the law. Time to be whisked away to whatever hell the Condesce and her minions had in mind.
She had kept herself free from the ever present culling fork for quite some time. She could manage to stay "safe" for another few sweeps. Maybe enough to die at a decent age. She would be living in hell, but when wasn't she? Enough old highbloods came to Alternia for whatever reason to keep her business alive. Whether they show up to help cull the weak, orphan the unlucky, or to grant the rare fortune on a young seadweller. Either way, there were sad pieces of excrement that couldn't get a pail unless they paid for it. And pay they did. She wasn't the best looking out of the others who fought for the same clientele, but if someone needed a kismesis pail filled, she was the one to call. She often wondered how many descendants she had. The slurry of some she had met wouldn't make jackshit. Those pathetic shits wouldn't be alive if it weren't for the blood in their veins. Coddled. Catered to. Everything she wish she had. Never staying in the same place for long, but having many returning customers. They had some way of contacting her when needed. Mostly Trollian. These trolls were feeding and clothing her after all. After some time, you pick up the patterns of these individuals, so was sure to be in their neck of the woods when they would normally schedule an appointment. It worked. They paid extra for a fast delivery. Those men and women may have been vile, but they had the caegars. It was always a pain to find shelter during the day. More than a few times she made the mistake of trying to travel while the sun was up. A burn scar here and there. Nothing too bad. Nothing to label her as anything more than "Damaged Goods." She had grown a thick skin. In both senses of the phrase. Sticks and stones didn't hurt her. Words bounced right off, or she made it look that way at least. Words had a habit of burrowing under her skin, nesting in the deep recesses of her soul. Waiting. Waiting for a time of quiet to strike. Being a wanderer she had most of her time filled with silence. She was deaf, so all of her time was silence. She did have the ability to see sound when she was younger. It was a nuisance then, but it was saving her chute, now.
One of her regulars was a seadweller. He was a sad excuse for a violet blood. No spine. No sense of command. Pathetic. The only good thing about that was she could name a ridiculous amount of money and he wouldn't question it. Simply nod and shake her hand, trying to seem professional about needing to pay someone to pail for the drones, or for luxury. She never knew what exactly he did, but that wasn't her business. Her business was getting the pail to the right level, so he could live. He had made a few "unprofessional" advances on her. Asking her to stay the day, offering to pay for her meals while in town, and, lastly, asking how much a date would be. She had to stifle back a laugh. Did he think this meant something? Fucking hell, he was nothing but a dollar sign to her. She raised her eyebrow in disbelief while looking him up and down for any sign of bullshit. He seemed kind of nervous, like he was a wriggler asking his flushcrush out. How much more pathetic can someone get? His toothy smile made it that much more pathetic. Jesus fucking Christ. She was in no shape to turn down a job that would give her more spending money, so she agreed. The night and time had been selected. The place of the event and price were discussed in detail as well. He had given her a night to "freshen up" as he put it, so she took this time to rest. It was going to be a long and dreadfully boring night. After waking up near three hours before the agreed time, she quickly dressed and prepared for the hell that was to ensue. Upon making her way to the location on the beach, she spotted some bulge head wrigglers on the sand. Wow, those two were really going at it. She was going to be twenty minutes early, so why not crash the party.