The World Is Crying Out for Love, Pt. 3

If I had to be the easy punching bag everyone swung for to regain any sense of power or normalcy after that display of cruelty, then so be it.

All I could think of were those kids… the ones Martha had probably sat beside until they stopped shaking.

I drew in a breath and stood up.

“I am sorry!”

People who were pining for my downfall definitely didn’t expect this.

“I spoke impulsively, I spoke with my heart, and I was an asshole about it—but it came from the heart all the same! I want the best for all of us! I said what needed to be said. 

I continued meeting eyes that had long since stopped expecting anything good from me.

"What happened to me and the others, Piper... that shouldn’t happen to anyone. And so long as they called the shots while we can’t stand up for ourselves financially, then what’s the point? If we don’t change things—just because ‘that’s how it’s always been’—then what’s the point of any of this?”

I held up the lotus.

The folds were a little sloppy, but it held.

“This takes less wood. Less paper. Same hands, less time. It might feel stupid but it’s better than riding a sinking ship.”

I swept my gaze across the room.

“We keep giving people what they need, but not what they want. Thing is, they already have what they need. We simply cannot compete against a blacksmith’s work in terms of utility. What we can give them is an emotional connection; the feeling that they contributed to a good cause.”

Even Johann shut his mouth.

I looked down at the Moonbox beside my lotus flower.

“We could improve on our marketability. Call it a ‘Night-Blossom’ Moonbox, or whatever. Maybe it sells for more then. But we can’t just keep doing the same thing and hope it suddenly works. It doesn’t.”

That was it. My piece, said and done.

Everyone was staring. Most probably didn’t expect me to have the guts to speak at all.

Well, here I was. In all my awkward, ugly glory.

And then, of course, someone snapped.

“You asshole.”

A chair scraped hard across the floor.

A blonde girl… Alexandria.

“You think you know better than the person who’s kept this place going for ten years? Who gave up everything for us?”

Her voice was shaking now.

“You get sick for a few days and suddenly you know more than Martha? Is that what this is? Well, news flash, I was sick too! Gods, you Crystals never change! Always so smug, so certain you’re right!”

She jabbed a finger toward me like I’d spat in someone’s food.

“Screw. You. I’m gonna give you a scar you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Tomorrow. Count on it.”

Alexandria, very audibly, sat back down. The murmurs were growing louder by the second. But the energy was shifting… and fast.

That’s when the Anubian girl finally stepped in.

“Alright! That’s enough gawking, rau! Back to work! Moonboxes need to go out tonight, stat!”

I didn’t have the mind to ponder the implications of what she said, because there was only one person on my mind.

I stood up. “I will come back to finish my batch later.”

“Crystal…” I heard Uriel say.

I gave her a look.

Immediately, the girl backed down... not out of fear, but resignation.

She knew I wasn’t about to let this go.

I owed Martha that much; to the one who gave this orphanage her everything.

\\

I found Martha outside, near the edge of the graveyard. After scouring nearly every corner of the orphanage, this was the last place left to check.

The scale of loss here… it was overwhelming.

“Piper’s in the infirmary, recovering.”

She stood with one elbow resting on a child’s stone, the other hand trembling at her lips.

“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear, Cotter? What do you want?” Her eyes stayed on the ground. “S-sorry… I’m just so—”

“Tired.”

“Hah… you always were quick to notice when something’s off.” She let out a weak laugh. “How’d you guess?”

“Other than the fact you look like a kettle about to blow?” I pointed under my own eyes.

“Mm. And here I thought I was hiding it well.” A sigh slipped out of her. “Posteria wouldn’t approve of me throwing a child to the wolves. You beat certain death today. It’s a miracle you’re even walking. And I… I should’ve known better than to pile it all on you.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her back. She didn’t flinch or push me away.

“I wanted to say I was really, incredibly, sorry.”

“I shouldn’t expect more of a teenager.”

“No, Martha, I mean it. It doesn’t mean I get to throw you around like that. Or anyone I’ve treated thus far, for that matter," I admitted. "I just… I don’t know. There was such a rush of excitement and sense of control when I fended off against those freedom fighters it fed into everything I did. I have to come back down.”

“Cotter, you know better than anyone acting like you’re better than everyone won’t win you any favors. For someone who articulates himself very well, you sure don't have common sense." She smiled. "I hope you will reflect on your actions. Truly. Though, I must ask…” She snorted. “How did you know the Moonboxes weren’t working out?”

The answer came easy. “Everything around me.”

She gave a short snort.

“Where exactly are we?” I asked. "Why did you come out here?"

“We stand in front of a gravestone next to the Spirit Room. As for why you were put in there, it is said Posteria’s Light felt strongest here. Don't tell anyone I said that, because a munity will start soon.”

“You’d still think whoever runs East Gate would be interested in preventing the deaths of children…”

“Do you know why?” I could tell Martha knew the answer already. She just wanted to make sure I was across it.

“More or less. Nobody wants to come this far out unless they’re lost, desperate, or unlucky. Reflects in the leadership, I guess.”

“Mm. East Gate’s a border town. Nothing here for businesses, adventurers, anyone with coin.” Her tone was bitter, but resigned. “There’s a saying in this place: people born in East Gate die in East Gate. Worst place to live this side of Schonewelt.”

That sounded about right.

But I’d known companies back home that built empires in worse places.

Koman Hotel made a fortune in a disaster zone. Toyota started with a loom.

“Why not leave?” I asked.

“Besides the fact that moving takes coin no one’s got?” She glanced up at the hills. “Maybe the view. Perhaps the quiet. Some people stay because it’s all they’ve ever known.”

I’d need to see that view someday.

But it wouldn’t mean anything unless I earned it first.

“Martha… would you say you’re an open kind of nun?”

“Mm… sometimes my peers say I’m too liberal. So yes, I suppose so.”

I took a deep breath. “Then I came to tell you something—something that might convince you these new ideas I’m proposing will actually work.”

“Oh my…” she said teasingly. “Are you secretly from the Capital University or something?”

“I’m not Cotter.”