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They’re staring…Not the way they used to. That’s the problem. Sedna shifts near the edge of the market square, boots planted like she might need to bolt at any second, arms crossed tight across her chest like if she holds herself together hard enough, nothing can get in.
Before, the looks were easy…Suspicion.. Dismissal. That thin, polite kind of wariness people use when they’ve already decided what you are.
She knew how to meet those, chin up, eyes sharp, tongue sharper. Give them exactly what they expected. Make it easier for everyone.
It was simple. This? This isn’t simple. These are smiles that linger too long. Voices that soften when they say her name. People moving out of her way, not because they want distance, but because they think she deserves space. It makes her skin itch.
A woman steps into her path before she can slip away. Sedna tenses automatically but instead of flinching back, clutching her coin purse or narrowing her eyes the woman presses something into her hands.
Warm and soft.
Sedna freezes, a loaf of bread wrapped in a waxed cloth.
“For you,” the woman says, smiling like it doesn’t cost her anything. “For everything you did.”
Sedna stares at it like it’s a trick.
“I didn’t-” The words come fast, sharp, instinctive. “You don’t owe me-”
“We do,” the woman says gently. “I have family at the gate..”
And then she’s gone just like that. No bargain. No condition. No lingering look to make sure Sedna understands the price.
Sedna stands there, holding something that was simply…given, a kindness…Her fingers tighten around it.
This isn’t how the world works. Not the one she knows. The world she knows counts everything. Her father hauling in twice the catch and somehow paying twice the tax.
“Just how it’s calculated,” they’d say, smiling like it wasn’t theft.
Her mother handing over careful stitches, perfect hems, hours of work only to be told, “It’s not quite what I asked for,” as coins went missing from her palm.
And her mother would just sigh softly and say,
“Well…maybe they couldn’t afford more.”
Sedna’s jaw tightens. They could. They just knew her parents wouldn’t fight it.
Sedna had, Gods, she had. Loud. Sharp. Unrelenting. Calling it what it was in the middle of the square, in front of anyone who would listen or pretend not to and for that, she became the problem.
Not the theft, not the quiet taking…Her.
“…Right?” she mutters under her breath, staring at the bread like it might answer.
“You could just say thank you.”
Sedna startles, turning sharply.
Geraldus leans against a post like he’s been there all along, watching her unravel with that maddeningly calm expression.
“I was going to,” she snaps.
“You were going to argue,” He corrects.
Her scowl deepens, he’s not wrong. Her gaze drops back to the bread. It smells good.. rich, yeasty and warm. It feels almost offensive.
“People don’t just give things,” she says, quieter now.
“They do,” he replies. “When they can. When they want to.”
“That’s stupid.”
“It’s human.”
Sedna doesn’t answer, her thumb presses into the crust, testing it like she expects it to reveal itself as some kind of joke if she looks too closely…It doesn’t.
Around her, the market hums softly with the sounds of people going about their business. Talking low. Existing without fear pressing in on every breath.
Like the world didn’t almost end. Like she didn’t have to claw her way through it to make sure it didn’t.
Her shoulders draw tight.
“They didn’t do this before,” she says. “Not for my family. Not for anyone like us.”
Geraldus says nothing, just listens to her as he always does.
“They took,” she continues, voice hardening into something older than she should sound. “Extra tax. Short coin. ‘Mistakes’ that always seemed to cost us more than them.”
Her fingers curl harder around the bread.
“And when I didn’t let it slide, when I didn’t just smile and nod like my parents..”
“You became the problem,” he says softly.
A bitter laugh slips out of her.
“Yeah.”
The old instinct rises, quick and hot. Throw it away.
Call it what it is. Pity. Guilt. Performance. Something that can disappear just as easily as it showed up.
Something that isn’t real. Her hand twitches as she looks down at the loaf tempted…but she doesn’t drop it.
“They don’t get to act like it’s different now,” she mutters. “Like they didn’t see it. Like they didn’t choose it.”
“No,” Geraldus agrees.
She looks at him, thrown he's agreeing with her.
“No?”
“They don’t get to pretend,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t real.”
Her brow furrows. Those two things don’t fit together.
They should cancel each other out…right?
“They were wrong then,” he continues. “And they might be trying, now.”
“Trying doesn’t fix it.”
“No,” he says. “But it’s where change starts.”
Sedna huffs under her breath…Change…Out with the old as the saying went..The words feel sharp in her head, like something catching on bone.
Out with the old what? The way they treated her family? Or the way she learned to survive it
“…What if it goes back?” she asks, quieter now. “What if this is just…after? After the danger’s gone and they don’t need-” she gestures vaguely at herself, “people like me anymore?”
Geraldus pushes off the post, stepping closer, the scent of him filling her next breath, leather and spice.
“Then you’ll know,” he says. “And you’ll decide what to do.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” he gives her that crooked half smile that makes her forget everything. “But it is honest.”
She exhales, something almost like a laugh slipping through despite herself.
“…You’re annoyingly reasonable.”
“I’ve been told.”
Silence settles between them. Sedna looks down at the bread. Then slowly, awkwardly, like the motion doesn’t belong to her she uncrosses her arms.
It feels wrong…Exposed. Like setting down a weapon in the middle of a fight that might not be over.
She peels the wax cloth open and tears off a small piece. She hesitates a moment and then brings it to her mouth and bites, it's warm, soft and plain but good. Her throat tightens, sharp and sudden and she swallows hard, like the feeling might betray her if she lets it linger.
Sedna glances toward where the woman disappeared. Her mouth opens…Closes and opens again. The word feels unfamiliar. Like something she hasn’t used in a long time. Maybe ever like this.
“…Thanks,” she mutters.
Too quiet. Too late…but she says it and she doesn’t take it back.
Another pause.
Then she takes another bite, Her arms don’t cross again. Her shoulders don’t fully relax, not even close but they don’t brace for a fight, either.
It would take some getting used to this new way of things.. but maybe Geraldus was right…it was where change started in the trying.
She tore off a chunk of bread and handed it to Geraldus. He accepted it with a smile before wrapping an arm around her and they walked together towards the warm glow of the Hook, Line & Sinker.