Hafen's pregames interview

They stuffed me in a turquoise dress. Long until the train had met the floor, it took around 5 avoxes to force me into the dress with my shiny handcuffs still placed on my wrists. I heard mummers from the peacekeepers that there were instructions for them not to be removed. A beautiful dress against shiny silver cuffs and a beaten down face. One of my gold earrings had been lost in my struggle to run away only leaving the left hoop still dangling.

The irony of it all.

A gun pressed against my back as I walked the plank runway up to where Harlan Godfrey was awaiting me in dim light and an intimate setting. The interview room, nothing more than a court room. It did not matter what I would say, they would execute me anyway. The last sliver of hope that I would find another way out had not died yet. The flame still burning and just maybe if I were to go along with their charade, they would lower their guard down just enough for me to run as far as I could.

No one would miss me anyway.

Four guns remained pointed, two in the corner of each eye. Strategically placed where I would see them, their threatening presence glooming over as I had to be careful about just what I would say. Still, the audience was just as ignorant….part of the show, willing participants in a death match. Putting their curious minds at ease, reassuring them we were all just animals to be slaughtered.

"It says here that you've been raised on a ship, is that so? You're a... 'pearl collector'? That sounds intriguing. Family business?"

A glorified version of the truth, maybe my life would have been better if that had been the case.

"No, just a hobby of mine. Gotta makes money somehow when the sailors don’t have no work. Got pretty decent at it, I’d say…no real family to make it an actual business though. Don’t spend all year at sea, never have…It’s bad luck to have a girl on a ship but most of the sailors know now I’m a good luck charm. Different ships all the time, there’s one crew that I can usually count on."

My eyes do not look up from my hands, my eyes watching my hands struggle against the restraints. Small sentences with little info, afraid of what they might do to the cabin if I said too much.

"Do you have any siblings or loved ones who'll be watching you from home?"

My eyes looked up for a second with my nose wrinkled with annoyance. I wish I could have folded my arm or even stomped my foot out of frustration.

”I already told you; I got no family and no siblings. Just me.” my voice was agitated. I knew Drea would be insulted; she was my family. All of those kids and their lost souls…for better or worse they were my family. I did not want them to find them and tear down the one place we called home. I said a silent prayer that none of them were watching, they would just go on with their lives as they were. My gut telling me, Drea would have found her way into a pub, becoming a barfly just to make sure she never took her eyes off of me.

"Do you miss it? Home? Are you eager to return to it?"

Yes. There was nothing I missed more than the wretched smell and the endless choir of voices. I missed standing at the docks pleading with the sailors to take me on their ship. I missed the cold harsh ocean water and the way the salt would burn against my cuts and bruises. I missed the way Drea would hold me in a storm and how we would dance in the fire light as we told our stories. I even missed the days when my stomach was growling, and we were shedding fake tears to scam a few bucks of the rich.

All I wanted was to return back to the den of the Kraken where all lost children were welcome.

”I miss the ocean, and my rowboat. I belong at sea and that is where I will return to.”

There was a short moment of silence, my gaze now in the small crowd with eyes all hollowed out. The punches to my gut that I felt with the weight of the world became invisible. I was without soul, an empty shell for them to prod and poke out.

""Pardon my forwardness, but I wonder: Are you willing to do anything it takes to survive?""

I turned my emotionless face back towards Harlan and slowly raised my cuffed hands. The silver looked as if it became rusted through the dried blood from my wrists. If I could, I would have cut off my hands in exchange for my freedom.

”How ’ya think I got put in these?” that should be enough of an answer for anyone to see there was more fight in me than they could imagine. I was willing to break the rules, willing to do what it took to save my life and return to the helm of a ship.

“Any parting words?"

I smiled a devious grin, the first time my face had shown any kind of movement.

“Don’t always believe a yellow jack”, they may see me as weak and frail, but nothing should ever be taken at face value. There was nothing beaten or weak about me.