Where We Came From, Where We Are

Kind, sweet Artorias... he claimed that her deeds didn't make her a bad person. He hadn't stared into the dying eyes of her victims, however. He hadn't left children, families without their loved ones for personal gain. It weighed on the girl. Much less than it had the first time she'd taken a life, but it still weighed on her. The black and blue brute continued, saying that she was still Bowen. He then reiterated that she was still his Bowen. Hearing that come from his lips brought a little flutter in the girl's stomach and her mind warred. Others had called her theirs as well. One had lovingly dubbed her his little bird. In the end she didn't belong to anyone. She hadn't even belonged to herself then. Now that she was her own master once more, she didn't know how to exist yet. In time it would come to her, but for now she was paddling in deep water, trying to stay afloat.

Lifting one russet paw, Bowen placed it upon one of Arts large blue paws. He promised to do what he could to help her regain her sense of home. They would to go the beach. They would enjoy the breeze together. She appreciated the effort that he was making, but Bowen didn't want his life to change just because she was back. He was heir to The Hallows now. Surely he had responsibilities. A broken little sister shouldn't be one of them.

Bowen had placed her paw back in the grass when Art asked about the length of leather wrapped over her left foreleg. The girl almost recoiled at the touch and visibly flinched. Pink lips parted and she gave a soft gasp, her emerald eyes moving to rest upon the leather. Caramel ears pulled back in shame and she tried to decide whether or not to tell him what the bracer was hiding. Bowen was silent for a long time, a war of emotions banging around inside of her skull. In time, she decided that she would tell him. She'd already told Art that she had been a sexual object. How could this be any worse? Well, saying that she had been sexually taken advantage of was just that; words. What lay beneath the bracer was physical. It was permanent. She couldn't just pretend that it didn't exist.

Slowly, Bowen pulled the laces at the back of the leather. As she loosened the ties, she spoke. "Each slaving organization has a different mark." Sliding the leather down, she removed her dainty paw from it completely. The slicked down fur proved that she never took it off. With a deep inhale, Bowen turned her leg to show her brother what she had been hiding. Burned into the flesh of her leg were five lines. Three stretched in one direction and two stretched in another. One was much more fresh than the other four. "When I won my freedom, the slavery brand had to show that, so they did it again." She had been a slave. A possession. This mark proved it and it was something that she could never run from. It was burned into her very flesh and would remain there for all of her days.

"Bowen"