72nd Zi'da, 716
Not better, exactly, but more free. It was ridiculous, she knew, but no one here knew her as a slave. With the continued fading of her brands and, by now, the total disappearance of the other scars her body had borne, she had no visible trappings of what had been her life. Because she knew that the psychological scars were fading, too, it was even more meaningful. At first, she'd thought that a lifetime of slavery had not impacted her psychologically, that she had simply been who she was and it had been what it was. Now, as she changed and she experienced so many new things, she knew differently. She'd thought about it a lot on the way here, considered it with care and she'd come to the only conclusion which made sense to her. Here, they were free to be themselves, not held down by the past or what had been. No one recognised them as anyone other than who they were now.
Which was evidenced, too, by the reaction of the Lightning Knights to the pair offering to help. They got there, gave names and so on and explained that they might have some skills which would be of assistance. Her job was as a seamstress and, she assured the knight in question that a lot could be told from the way that people sewed things. It was as different as handwriting. His job was an alchemist, and they questioned him on if there might be things he could do which would aid.
Then, once the knights were sure that they were who they said they were, they were let into a room. It was a plain room, just a table in the middle of it, on which were two scarves and some clothing. There was a Lightning Guard in there with them and Faith looked with interest. Moving in, the young guard who was accompanying them spoke.
"Two of the scarves, in case you can cast any light." That comment was directed to Faith. To Padraig, he said "Also, the clothing which might give you some clue as to where they were kept, what happened to them for the trials between them going missing and us finding them. Our medics tell us that they were kept alive until they were dumped, so there might be clues in the clothes."
Both their escort, and the knight already in there, stayed. Faith moved to look at the scarves and she spent some time examining them carefully. She waited to speak until after Padraig had finished looking at the clothing, but then she explained. "Whoever made these is left handed. Look at the way the stitches slant, it's a dead giveaway. Also, they're new, they haven't been used before. The thread is stil even, you see? When we get repairs come in to the shop, we have to check all over, because things that have been used have pressure put on them in different places each time they are used. So the thread gets worn, unevenly, the more something is used. These, it's new." She looked at Padraig and a frown creased her brow, because whilst she was sure of the first two, she was less so of the last thing she said. "And I think they were made in a shop. The cut is very good, but also the hems are tiny. They seem to be made for maximum profit. If I was making this for the shop, I'd make it like this. But if I was making it for you, I'd make it better. Whoever made it is good, no doubting it, but they've opted for profit not care." It wasn't a judgement, so much, because she did exactly that in the shop. It was what Alfonse, her boss, expected. Maximum profit for minimum outlay, after all.
The guard with them raised an eyebrow at her words, but he made some notes on the parchment he carried with him. "You're sure, miss?" He didn't sound unkind, or even uncertain, but more like he had to ask.
"I'm sure of the first two, yes. That they might have been made in a shop? Not sure, but relatively so, yes."
"Would you recognise others made by the same person?" It was the logical question, in fairness. She'd seen their blank faces when she'd pointed out the slant of the stitching and the size of the hem. Men.
"Yes, I believe so." Faith looked at Padraig apologetically as she replied.
The guard nodded his head. "What about you, sir? Find anything?"