Chapter Text
Thais rests on a bench in a world unknown to her, eyes closed.
She has traveled so very far from the desert that was once her home, but this might be the farthest she’s traveled thus far.
For one, the Keeper isn’t here as they have been on every world so far. Meaning that this world must be different from the rest, not a reflection of what she has met before, through a different lens.
For another, the Mother Tree does not grow alone, within.
At the very core of her, the Heart of Desire...she feels what must be the Mother Tree of this world. The Tree of Knowledge, its own children named it, and how fitting! For is that not what the Mother Tree is, humanity’s will and desire and yes, knowledge, sprouting up ever higher.
Much like her own Mother Tree, though, this Tree is also...gone. She rests her hand on her breast, thumb rubbing at her sternum. Destroyed in a manner that even takes after Dissolution, that devourer of souls and memories, burned so as to be forgotten. Not a Seed left behind to spread the fruits of this tree, maliciously destroyed.
(Gone from this world like her dearest people. If she ever has the chance to meet the perpetrators of such a crime...well. Only one of them would be walking away from that.)
Except. One Seed. One that carries the Blood of this Mother Tree, the Desire of it.
Thais knows her name, of course. What mother does not know the names of her own children?
“Nico Robin,” she breathes, tasting the sounds. Only for herself, no other.
Of this Nico Robin, Thais knows little more. Only that her heart still beats, connected to the spirit of the Tree of Knowledge resting in Thais. As long as she lives, Ohara lives, for that is what the people of this tree named themselves.
Thais needs to find her, find out more about her. See if any of the other souls around her know of Nico Robin, of a lead she could follow.
Her eyes open, to see the bars surrounding her. The first step, of course, is getting herself out of this cell.
She glances at her chained up wrists, tilts her head to feel the weight at her neck. A collar of some kind, heavy. Free of the chains as well, at that.
Desire cannot be fulfilled in a cage.
Thais knows this better than anyone. After all, did she not become the Tree after defying a king who sought to chain its fruit?
In the long years of her lonely exile, there were many who also sought to enslave her people, seeing them as a useful fodder in how they multiplied under the Blessing of the Mother Tree.
Dearest Alva took many of those fools down. The rest, well, the desert is ever so big a place to hide in. The sand took them and their bones will never be found.
Her fingers dig into her palms.
No, Thais does not hold for slavery. Not now, not ever.
It will be a pleasure to break these bars for everyone else here, when the time comes. All she needs is power shared from another to multiply, to make her power more than hers alone. Someone strong, preferably.
She sniffs at the air, tasting of the emotions surrounding her. There is, of course, fear. Lots of fear. Despair.
Yet there is one feeling that stands out from the rest: waiting. Patience, in its sturdiest form, of a soul’s power waiting to be unleashed. Like the Keeper holding their Silver Key, ready for what comes.
Her eyes light upon the source, in a hunched over, cloaked figure. An elderly man.
Ah, him.
Some may say this man is too old to be worth much, long hair silvered and skin wrinkled from age. Those ‘some’ would be fools. For beyond the surface appearance teems a hardened Will. Yes, this is the kind of man she wants, a man full of power and experience and determination. This is a man who knows what he wants, and what he wants will not be in here.
Perfect for her own needs.
She crooks a finger in the man’s direction, winking.
“Would you like to share your Seed with me, handsome?”
~
Silvers Rayleigh has to blink at what, frankly, has to be the most blatant come-on he’s received in...quite some time. Even Shakky isn’t as up front as that, though it’s not really like she needs to be.
And in the pens of a Human Auction House? Even more unexpected.
He looks the woman over, both with eyes seen and unseen. Her tanned body is well-fed and well-endowed, along with being unmarked by any injuries or scars. Long white hair, with strange deer-like (goat?) ears breaking up the fleecy looking texture, and curled horns jut from the sides of her heard. Her other more non-human features (like the eyes and legs) also imply a Devil Fruit, an instant factor in driving any slave’s price up. Most likely a Zoan type, from how goatlike she appears in this hybrid form of hers. Rayleigh would place the money he doesn’t have (due to his gambling debts) on whoever captured her being particularly cautious not to damage such fine merchandise.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t seem worried at all, that illusion of safety. But somehow, Rayleigh doesn’t think that’s it. Something else is at play here.
“Well?” The woman prompts, still smiling brightly. Posed confidently like she isn’t dressed in white rags that barely cover her form.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry to say, but I’m taken. By someone else, that is.”
“Oh, what a shame, but my congratulations to your partner. You are quite the catch.”
While Rayleigh’s still musing over that interesting compliment, the woman steamrolls onto her next question.
“Mh, might I ask for your blood instead?” The beckoning hand curves into a cupping motion. Ready to catch blood as it may be offered.
He raises an eyebrow. “And what do you want either of those for...?”
Her other hand curls up under her chin. “To multiply and flourish, of course.”
A power of some kind, one that requires blood to operate, it seems.
The simplest answer for that, along with the woman’s horns and hooves, would be a Devil Fruit, and sure enough, her cuffs are definitely of sea stone on a second look.
Again, the simplest answer doesn’t seem to explain everything. Least of all the woman’s apparent ease even under the seastone. But then, the simplest answer rarely does in the world Rayleigh knows, much bigger than most other people’s he encounters.
Rayleigh’s not against taking risks, the opposite, really, but he’d like to know more about the person asking for his blood before handing it over.
“Ah, not at the moment.”
The woman sighs, clearly disappointed. “Oh well. Might I ask a question about something else instead?”
Not pushing further. A point in her favor.
There’s nothing more interesting to catch his attention, at least until it’s time to break himself out. He nods.
“Go ahead.”
“I am looking for a child of mine. Do you possibly know her name, so I might find her?”
Hm, interesting.
The odds of him knowing the name of this woman’s daughter...higher than one might suppose. If he doesn’t, then it is even more likely that Shakky will, with the ear she keeps to the groves of Sabaody. Rayleigh feels a smile stretching on his face.
It is rare that he can feel that turning points of the world to be these days, but this is definitely one, humming tight against his bones. A Will, to be fulfilled.
“Tell me, what is it?”
The name drops from ripened lips, like it’s nothing at all.
“Nico Robin.”
Well. Well, that is certainly a surprise. A name known to many more than he had even supposed at. He barks out a half-choked laugh, as those caged and listening around them break out into mutters and murmurs at this revelation.
“She? Related to that Devil Child?!”
“Fitting that a child of a devil should have such a demonic looking mother-”
“-wonder what crimes this woman’s done, worse than her daughter-?”
“Hey, bet there’ll be a decent price on her head, for a connection as close as that.”
There the woman sits. Steady, chained hands in her lap, back straight and horns held high. Uncaring that revealing her connection to one of the most hunted people in the world will have sealed her fate, to be hunted in turn. Because people talk, slaves to be or not, and the word will get out.
Under lesser conditions, bounties have been set. Islands have burned on the flight of a small rumor. That, Rayleigh knows all too well, as he rests his arms on his knees.
But maybe this woman has a plan for that. Pretending to be related to another as to draw them in for their bounty is a ploy he’s unfortunately seen before.
The lone survivor of Ohara deserves better than that, unconnected he may be to her.
“And what would you say to her, as your child?”
“Tell her that she is loved,” comes without a pause. One hand rises to rest on the ample chest. “Tell her that with her, Ohara still lives.”
Ohara still lives.
Rayleigh sucks on his teeth briefly.
What a thing to say, what an assurance to give. One that the woman means with her entire heart, he can sense with his Observation.
“Ah, I’d be a hard-hearted man indeed, to turn down a plea like that from a woman.”
He shakes his head. Shifts his posture. “Blood, was it?”
“A few drops should be more than enough.” She extends her hand, the one on her chest, towards him once more. Revealing an interesting mark on her chest, close to the base of her throat, in the process.
He puts that thought aside for later, turning his attention to drawing the asked for blood. A nick with a Haki-hardened fingernail along the side of his index finger, and he offers it to the woman. Who takes his hand in hers, through the bars.
She gently squeezes, and red drops roll out into her palm. Plop. Plop. Plop. Then she draws back, allowing him to take his hand back as well.
Someone chooses, at this point, to speak up. Another trapped man sharing the cage with Rayleigh.
“Hah, should have guessed that someone who has the tainted blood of a devil would drink blood like one.”
The woman turns her head with weight, to look the speaker down with a slitted eye. Shutting up the others muttering as she does so.
“There is no such thing as tainted blood. Not in the sense that you speak of.”
On that, she licks up her arm towards her cupped palm, lavishly enjoying those bloody drops in a way some might call obscene.
More than a few watchers choke at the sight, and Rayleigh knows one of the supervising guards has just released a low whistle. Guards that are actually in the process of moving closer towards her particular cage.
Keys twist, the door unlocks. Others in the cage shield away from the bars, from the grasping hands, but the woman does not. Instead she stands and steps out into that grasp, head held high. Unafraid, completely and totally.
The guards, of course, miss that. But if they were the types to appreciate such, they wouldn’t be working in a place such as this.
Rayleigh watches, glasses gleaming. Watches and listens.
“Nice to have merchandise that knows their place.”
“A shame she has to go up to auction untouched, I’d like a taste myself...”
“A taste? Try for the whole package!” A guard laughs.
Talking about her like she’s only a piece of meat, as they attach chains to lead her away. It takes some struggle to keep the smile firm on his face.
The woman does not struggle against them, but neither does she back down. Let them make her only an object to be owned.
“Thais,” she corrects firmly. “I am Thais.”
A guard tugs at her collar. “You’re whatever your buyer wants you to be, slave.”
Goat ears flick, but the woman, Thais, says nothing more. Not when the guards are already moving towards where the slaves go to be sold, forcing her to go along in the process.
Before she leaves, Rayleigh has to ask.
“That tattoo of yours, on your chest? What’s it mean?”
Does she know? Or is it mere decoration to her?
“Oh, that?” She flashes another smile in his direction, as the guards start herding her farther away. “Desire, of course!”
“Hey, shut up!” A guard shoves at her shoulder roughly, and the woman says no more, easily following them to the auction stage. Following them, but by every appearance, leads them, unafraid of her destination.
Leaving Rayleigh to prepare and think on what he’s just heard. Because...
Desire is a different translation of that poneglyph, an accurate one for what he knows. Not a lot, just what he picked up here and there on that final journey.
But he himself calls it by a different term: Dream.
Rayleigh braces his chin on folded hands, gathering Haki as he focuses. Ready to break his collar. Because he has a feeling he won’t have to wait long on Thais’ part.
“Thais...” he muses.
A name to keep an eye out for.
Because a woman with the poneglyph of Dream on her skin, seeking out a Devil Child with a Will enough to shake the earth?
That’s someone to watch.
~
“Showcasing Number 17!”
Ah, so that’s what the tag they’ve hung about her neck is for. A number, one among many in this meat market.
The auctioneer acts like this is a game, and so does everyone else that she can see. Everyone that doesn’t have a collar about their neck, that is. Those people have eyes that have long lost hope of any kind.
“-and look at those breasts, aren’t they soft enough to serve as pillows? Well-fed, this female-”
Meat market. Always the meat market.
She plays along, twisting her body here and there as the auctioneer speaks, to showcase the attributes that will apparently drive up her price.
The crowd looks upon her with greedy eyes, eyes that she knows all too well. Eyes of desire, and oh, how she hates them! For that desire is not to allow life to grow, but to stamp it out. A desire to own her, Mother Tree and Tree of Knowledge and Thais in one. An object, not a person, something to throw away once they’ve gotten bored of her.
“-unmarked, a fresh and ready canvas! And no doubt a fantastic breeder to boot-”
If she can multiply life to innumerable numbers in a desert no other dares to cross, then she can certainly have it flourish here. Already, roots from the mangroves that seem to make up the entirety of the land around her reach and grasp. She mentally bats them away with a laugh, with a hushed soon, darlings.
“Now, to start the bidding!”
A clear invitation. She takes it.
Laughing, Thais stretches out her arms as she twirls. These people are not worthy of her dance, not in any form of it. But this simplified movement will be enough for what she compels. Invites.
The chains about her wrists snap alongside her next words. Whatever explosives are supposed to go off with such an action are neutralized in the wave of her overrushing power.
“Grow and thrive, my little saplings!”
The roots leap to obey, throwing aside floorboards and wall stones as they desperately reach for her. The Will of the man’s blood thrives in them, directing them to break the solid metal of chains as well. Collars snap and grind, as does every weapon in sight and not a few out of sight.
The cheers turn to screams, as too late, the crowd realizes what she has wrought.
Will they survive, the watching crowd? She will certainly not be disappointed if they don’t! Because she can sense the filthiest of Desires among them, that have been fulfilled into outbursts of rotten fruit. Best to be pruned for the rest to thrive.
The auctioneer, the seller, turns towards her with rage in his heart and eyes. The pleasure from before gone in an instant, like dew under a desert sun.
“You-! You’re ruining everything!”
How funny that he actually bought that she would be pleased by the notion of becoming a plaything in order to line his pockets. Always so funny, how blinding greed can be in particular.
“Here I thought I would be your best sell of the night!”
He lunges at her. Towards her outstretched hand.
Easy enough to thrust her fist into his chest, right through his heart. Blood, blood, blood all over her hand. Weak hearted literally, along with metaphorically, the remains of the organ is easy enough to shake off onto hungry roots when she draws back her hand.
The corpse slumps over, about to be far more useful in death than its owner ever was in life: food for her saplings.
Saplings that rise from the roots in turn to push towards the roof. Eventually pushing up against the roof. Threatening collapse and complete destruction.
The few smart enough to flee do so and the rest?
Perfect fodder for the children she is to carry and bear forth. Fertilizer is fertilizer, never mind how thin the blood.
For Thais needs to be prepared for what comes. What she desires to do on this world.
Nico Robin, the Keeper, any other that comes to bear her Seed...
She will find her children. Protect them.
For that is the promise of Thais, Last Queen of the Aramites, Aeon of Desire. To be fulfilled to the last.
~
For once, Rayleigh doesn’t need to break himself out.
Roots from the mangroves of Sabody grow longer and larger, moving on their own. Entangling themselves in bars and chains to crack them open, choking out any bombs before they have a chance to blow with the...resin, he thinks. Bubble sap surrounds the bomb, sticking them up so they don’t hit ignition, or if they do, the bubbles also prevent air from getting in to make the explosion actually happen in a serious way. Huh. Clever.
He can sense his own Haki in those roots, and isn’t that interesting?
“Suppose that’s what she needed it for,” Rayleigh muses, easily cracking the collar off his own neck.
There’s not much he needs to do to break anyone else around here out, the roots are already taking care of it, and that must be what his Haki is for. They’re quick to leave, the others in the cells, leaving only Rayleigh. Who hums to himself and stands. After taking a sip from his flask, of course. Gives him a nice buzz.
He bats away seeking plant tendrils, standing up to walk through the holes in front of him. Through the cell and the walls, to outside. Outside where there is definitely panicking at the large scale disaster that’s just befallen the Human Auction House.
Rayleigh takes a moment to admire how the building still shakes from the roots thrusting through it even now. He’ll need to keep an eye out over the days to come, for escaped slaves and searching marines alike. But in the meantime...
“I wonder how they’ll try to sweep this under the rug...” Because the Sabaody Archipelago is meant to be a heart of the World Government’s power, a place where the monsters which run that government can come out to play.
Maybe on some of the pirates that sweep through each year, on their attempts to cross over from Paradise to the New World? Ah, but the problem with that is no one truly notable has come by so far.
And that... he glances over his shoulder at the shifting wreckage. That is notable indeed. Notable enough that Rayleigh is left dodging Marine patrols all the way to the bar, each patrol frantically searching for a ‘monster.’
Heh. He can’t escape the dry chuckle that escapes, as he shakes his head.
The world’s definition of a monster has always been a loose thing, but in this case, it’s a definition not loose enough. For who expects someone with Thais’ appearance to be strong enough to destroy a slave market in the heart of Sabaody, instead of being the merchandise at said market? No, those Marines aren’t going to catch her any time soon.
Even the patrols aren’t enough to delay him, as he returns to Shakky’s bar. Always a lovely place to see. What he finds inside...Rayleigh squints through his glasses at the sight.
There’s the woman of the hour herself, sitting right at the bar. Leaning on the bar in Shakky’s direction, hand tucked up under her chin.
He raises his eyebrows.
“Decided to follow me home, I see.”
“Nowehere better to go at the moment,” she admits, finger twirling a thick cluster of white hair.
Then she smiles. Full of teeth.
“But I can see why you turned me down, when you have someone as beautiful as her waiting at home!” Thais winks slyly at Shakky.
Shakky laughs, taking out her cigarette for a more full body motion of the expression. “Rayleigh, you turned someone like her down for me? How sweet!”
“But now all three of us are here...” Thais shifts her goat legs, as to lean closer in Rayleigh’s direction. “May I keep the two of you company?”
God. He gulps. It’s been a while since he’s gotten an invitation for sex as serious and as sincere as his Observation Haki is currently picking up. And wanting to do it with both of them? What a hungry woman this is.
Shakky is a merciful woman, in at least this area, and turns Thais down for them both. Though she does it with a smile behind her hand.
“Thanks for the offer, darling, but we’ll pass tonight.”
Thais pouts, an extremely artistic expression on her face, exaggerated and unoffended.
His captain would have liked her.
“Oh well. If you ever change your mind...” Another wink. “I’ll be up for it.”
Thais sits up straight, readjusting her strange legs to recross them.
“Now, for the reason I came here.”
“Oh? You didn’t come for our company alone?” Shakky teases.
“As lovely as you two are, no, I did not. I am here for something else.”
“And that is?” He lifts an eyebrow, waiting. Not that he ends up waiting very long.
“You knew the name of my child, earlier,” She says simply, rubbing a finger at the base of a horn. “You are my best lead at the moment, as one who is strong and did not badmouth her name.”
Ah, he can see how she would come to that conclusion.
Shakky, from where she leans, tilts her head. “And who’s your kid, lovely?”
The name drop, again, cuts through the air like a steel sword through flesh. “Nico Robin.”
Shakky hisses, breathing out smoke. “Ah. I see.”
And the love of his life would, having been a victim of the games the World Government liked to play. A victim like Nico Robin must be, because Rayleigh knew Ohara. What they accuse the girl of... no, one of their own wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that.
Slitted eyes watch silently, goat ears flicking back and forth through white hair. Then Thais speaks once more.
“Well...” Her fingers tap on the bartop. “Any suggestions of where I should start my search?”
Suggestions of a destination, huh. Rayleigh leans back, thoughtful, arms folded over his chest. Somewhere to find Nico Robin, well, he wouldn’t know for certain, that’s more Shakky’s deal with how she gathers information.
So he nods to her, and Shakky puts her cigarette up to her lips. Thinking out loud.
“There’s always-”
~
On top of the world, those who rule over said world gather. Discuss the newest threat of their kingdom as it was established eight hundred years ago.
“There are claims that she is related to the Ohara survivor herself. Ludicrous, of course.”
“Yet there might be some truth to it, hmm? Even if it is not a direct connection of mother to child, like those fools blabber about.”
“Blood enough to condone her.”
“One of those glyphs, marked on her flesh? She must know their language. There is no other reason for her to bear that of all marks specifically.”
“She must be eliminated before others seek her out for that forbidden knowledge.”
“This woman has already established herself as a threat, with the very public destruction of a servant auction house in the heart of our territory.”
“One that had Nobles in it, no less.”
“A decent enough excuse, for a higher bounty.”
“Yet not too high, lest the hunters are frightened off.”
“She and that surviving child of Ohara must not be allowed to meet.”
“On that, we can agree.”
~
WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.
Nico Thais.
Mother of Devils
Bounty: 84,000,000 Beri
[In the photo, a dark skinned woman winks at the camera-snail. Long white hair flows down over a large breast, from underneath two sets of curved horns.
At the base of her throat, lies a clearly defined tattoo, though one slightly obscured by the silver necklace its owner wears. A mark that can be seen as a poneglyph, by those who know what they are looking at.]