Kezia gasped for air, struggling against firm hands that pushed her in the well. " Please madam, I apologize, I swear,"
" Filthy brat." A stone cold woman, dressed in the finest jewels, stood nearby ordering her servant to attack Kezia, covering her mouth with a handkerchief to save her from the perceived dirtiness of the situation.
" I saw you looking at my husband!" She accused shrilly, causing Kezia to wince at the sound, the bustling night crowd surrounding the pair.
" No, Madam, I did not, I'm so sorry, please-" As Kezia's head was dunked in the well, all she could think of was the unfairness of the situation- in reality the noblewoman's husband, Count Francis, had been the one who had given her a most lecherous look, and after his attempts to solicite her failed, he flew into a bout of rage, accusing her to his wife.
When Countess Francis decided she had her fill, Kezia's head was spinning, and she slumped next to the well like a drenched rat.
Assuming she had to go back to work, she shakily stood up, smoothing her apron, and analyzing her appearance in the well's waters. Her long black hair hung in heavy tresses, and her warm brown skin glistened because of its dampness.
Squeezing out the water from her hair, she adjusted her gait- noticing something crucial. Kezia's white diklo, the one her mother had given her, had gone missing. Panicking, her vision began to blur, and she frantically groped around, finally finding the headscarf. Though typically only married women wore the garment, it served as a reminder of her mother, and she held it close.
Walking back into the tavern, Kezia was greeted with the salty smell of sweat and beer. The bartender, Lash, looked at her worriedly, and some of the regular customers looked on sympathetically.
Lash was Kezia's childhood friend, another fellow Gypsy. However, Lash's job obligated him to remain unmoving, working at the bar with hesitation.
Kezia began to clean up the tables closest to her until her boss, Miss Rose tapped her on the shoulder. The usually prim woman had a pained expression on her face, her blunt words masking her true intent, "You should go home now, it's been a long day. We can handle the rest of the day on our own, Kezia. Get some rest,"
Kezia might've giggled if she had the energy to; she could tell that Miss Rose truly cared about her but didn't know how to express it. Unfortunately, Miss Rose was one of the few people who carried truly good sentiments for Kezia. Because Kezia's mother had been rebellious, and her father's identity was unknown, the worst was always assumed.
Growing up, her mother had always told her that her father would come back for her, come back for them. And most of all, she told Kezia stories about their love, a brilliant fire in the pitch black night. Young Kezia knew- she knew that no matter what everyone around her said, her mother was true to her heart, and her father was coming back for her. But now, older Kezia was losing her faith. The support of a community had been diluted to surface level pity- " That Poor Little Gypsy Girl". Nobody was coming for her, and she had no true family.
Her mother had died years ago, and she had survived doing odd jobs before becoming a waitress at Miss Rose's Tavern, The Roast Bun. Sighing, Kezia began to walk the long path home. Before she left the tavern, Miss Rose slipped a shilling in her hand, urging her to buy something to comfort her, and she grasped it desperately. The moonlight lit her way, and soon she found a stall of roasted meat, the smell drawing her to it. Approaching the stall, she heard the conversations of a passerby couple,
"Sweetie, you must be careful! They say the devil has been roaming the streets.. He plucks young women off the streets as if they were berries,"
Shuddering, Kezia ignored the talk. A young woman living on her own, she was the biggest target. Even if she disappeared, it would take a long time for her to be noticed.
Handing her shilling to the vendor, she bought a stick of kebab, and was about to begin eating, when a tall young man approached the stall. He had dark black hair, intense crimson eyes, and pale skin that accentuated his exhaustion, with an intense gaze that made Kezia blush.
"How much for what she's having?" He inquired, with a quiet but calm voice that Kezia noted sounded like the deepest notes of a cello.
" A shilling, sir," The vendor responded.
Rummaging through his pocket, the man could find nothing, which puzzled Kezia, as he was dressed in dirty, but fine quality fabric that only a nobleman could afford. Turning away with disappointment, the young man began to wander off. Feeling pangs of sympathy she knew she couldn't take responsibility for, she reached out.
"Sir!" Kezia called. What was she doing? she thought. She couldn't even afford the meat herself but still wanted to show mercy to a stranger? That too, a nobleman.
It was to her surprise that the young man looked back.
"Would you want some of my meat, sir?"
The young man's previously sullen face broke into a beautiful smile, and Kezia found herself entranced- what could he have experienced that a piece of meat would make him this happy?
" I would be so grateful, miss," His response was short but kind, showing his gratefulness. " I will repay you, I swear to it-" He beckoned for her name.
"Kezia: My name is Kezia. And don't worry about making it up to me, we've all gone through tough times where the only things we own are the clothes on our back," She smiled.
"I am Raphael. Remember me," Finishing the meat, he bowed indicating his thankfulness, and walked behind the stall. When Kezia peered curiously afterwards, she found nothing but an empty alleyway that led to a dead-end, puzzling her.
Walking home, Kezia could not stop thinking about Raphael. In the world she had known, there were only two types of people: those who looked down on her for her bloodline, and those who pitied her for her situation. He had been the only one to treat her as an equal, to engage in discussion with her, and to even accept food that she had touched.
Nearing her building, she overheard voices, and warily listened.