Bosco wasn't like its neighbors. Oh, from an outside perspective, it probably didn't look much different. Different buildings, different scenery and different quant town customs, but on the whole the same as everywhere else. But anyone on the inside, especially anyone on the bottom of Bosco's social ladder knew differently.
Bosco was a rat's nest disguised by pretty words, winding flowers, and thick woods. A place where children without parents or guardians became less than animals, a place where the unwary were dragged off to the underbelly Bosco would never admit to having.
A place where one wrong step meant being chained, degraded, and sold as a tool to the rich who were too lazy or incompetent to care for their own estates and health.
Then again, perhaps all countries were like that. It wasn't as if Bickslow had ever been to any of them to check. He hadn't even seen any part of Bosco that wasn't the city of Aternum or its near outskirts. The roads were the territory of bandits and slavers and Bickslow had no intention of leaving the safety of his alley network to become someone's glorified bag carrier or floor scrubber.
Bickslow danced along the rooftops, eyes sweeping the streets below idly as he made his way toward market street. This week was the Festival of Songs and that meant there were lots of foreign merchants who didn't have as much skill in spotting and driving off street orphans as the native shopkeepers. Of course, the Festival also meant there were many more people on the streets and thus, many more risks of accidentally drawing attention to himself.
Energy swirled in the streets and houses below him as he padded across hot clay tiles, eyes flickering from red to green subconsciously as he checked for the familiar oil-tainted signatures of slavers. There were always downsides to life, and the downside to more people and food merchants was that the crowds were perfect for slavers to slip in and out of, collecting a lost child or young adult before any of their potential family members realized they had been separated in the throng.
Green wove with blue and red with lavender as people bumped shoulders and their energies intermingled without their notice. Bickslow scowled and looked away, quickly ducking to the other side of the roof he was standing on and flattening himself to avoid the watchful glance of a black-encrusted slaver. Darn it, there are more of them around than last year! It's going to be tricky avoiding them and getting something to eat. Especially considering… Bickslow idly raised a hand to trace the faintly raised lines of blue ink stretching down from his forehead and over the bridge of his nose.
He shook his head quickly and resumed his trek, taking a detour around the buildings of main street just in case someone else was smart enough to climb up on the rooftops to avoid the crowd. He stuck to the roofs of apartments, skirting along the tilted secret lanes that ringed either side of Aternum's side streets.
He was just about to jump over an alley gap when voices caught his attention and made him drop onto his stomach instead, "Ouch! Little brat-! grab her! Don't let her get away!" Peering over the side of the roof, Bickslow felt his stomach knot from something other than hunger. Three slavers scuffled about in the alley, hemming in the shaking form of a little girl. One of the men was cradling his bitten hand and snarling orders while the other two kept trying to snag the girl's arms.
Dirty blond curls bounced and flailed as their owner spun and twisted away from the hands time and again, running repeatedly for either the cover of the dumpsters or the alley exit only to be cut off and driven back by the much larger men surrounding her. Bickslow scowled and crawled backwards along the tiles, guilt gnawing at him even as survival instinct overrode his compassion. He had no intention of being captured by slavers and the only way he could feasibly overpower three full grown men was if he used the accursed power that throbbed behind his eyes.
I should stay out of it. It isn't my fault and I can't do anything about it without—and I can't do that so never mind. Besides, she's just a stranger, why should I risk my life for her? However, just as he was turning to run away, something surged and knocked him onto his stomach, freezing his lungs and making his eyes snap fully to glowing green defensively. Mist that hadn't existed seconds ago clouded the air, blocking normal sight and offering an eerie backdrop to the howling screams that rose from the alley he had just turned away from.
What was that? Bickslow twisted around, eyes widening even further as his power showed him a seething pulse of darkness in the alley, draining everything near it of heat and light for several terrifying seconds before it snapped shut. That was-! Scrambling to his feet, Bickslow ran, but not away from the source of the cold as everyone else on the streets below were doing, but toward it. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the roof, he looked down sharply.
The small blond girl lay in the alleyway on her back, wide eyes staring blankly at the sky, chest visibly heaving as the mist started to fade. Around her, two of the slavers lay sprawled and groaning weakly, the third nowhere to be seen. Heart pounding in his ears, Bickslow scrambled down the nearest fire escape and dropped down onto the cobblestones. He hissed faintly at the unexpected sensation of freezing ice biting his bare feet, ice in the middle of summer? This can't be natural.
He glanced hastily around the alley, searching for the third slaver to no avail before his still-glowing eyes landed on the little girl again. Red coated turquoise and flickered wildly in time with fearful green in a near dizzying display of different emotions. Yet despite the shifting colors, Bickslow could see a kernel of black, the same indescribably dark color as the cold-inducing pulse, resting behind terrified aqua eyes.
The girl was starting to sit up, limbs shaking as she looked around, spotted him, and froze, eyes communicating her confusion and terror even more clearly than words. For several seconds, the two stared at each other, the girl's colors dancing with more and more green and Bickslow's mind seething with just one thought, she's like me, she's like me, she's like me!
Footsteps and yelling voices rapidly approaching their location snapped him out of his daze and Bickslow held out a hand hurriedly, "We need to go!" The girl stared blankly at his hand, brow furrowing silently and making no move to take it. Huffing, Bickslow hastily reached out and grabbed her left wrist, pulling her toward the fire escape he had climbed down, "Run, stupid!"