Enigmatic writings, 3/17
"Someone please explain to me how I wound up defending this brat.
Ah, right. Because that fat scum and the weakling started eagerly talking about torturing the information out of him.
Disgusting..."
[Image I.D: Qada stands to the right of a child, who is sitting on the ground and crying. Qada is a fat man with many vials on his belt.]
"I'm not worried about this weakling Astrae. I could handle him with my eyes closed.
But the drugs that fat one cooks up-- the poisons, especially-- could ruin the child's body.
And so we stood there, staring each other down for a full half-hour..."
"It wasn't for another thirty minutes that old man battleaxe caught wind of the standoff and came to my rescue.
Fatty and I were both drenched in sweat by that point. Astrae and the brat had passed out."
"In the end, the child became my responsibility.
Astrae is still spewing complaints, but it sounds like fatty was chewed out hard for his hand in the latest stunt.
Seems the kid is grateful for having been spared, even by someone like me. He's started to open up a bit."
"He's eight years old, and lost both parents to the war. His grandfather took him in, until disease claimed him as well. Textbook orphan story.
He was rounded up with the other orphans and put to forced labor. Between ditching work and saying strange things, he drew the guards' attention, and that landed him here."
"My efforts have earned me an unruly roommate.
When he's asleep, he's no different than any other kid...
I thought to turn in for the night as well, but the words he mumbled in his sleep as I put out the light stopped me cold."