Snippet #2731524

Primaris followed a few steps behind Iziti, his hands folded in front of him and his head slightly bowed keeping his gaze averted from his betters. He tried his best to not listen into the conversation that was unfolding before him, it was not his place to eavesdrop and he had learned long ago by way of a sharp application of birch twigs that he was to stand silent and unobserved until he was called upon to service his masters whim.

He had to admit to himself though that his ears did prickle at the sound of food. The smell of warm bread was a constant wake up call when he was growing up, having the good fortune for his cell to be located just beneath the kitchens meant that though he was more often than not only eating the scraps and leftovers from his masters table he could at least dream of the taste of fresh bread, imagine the feeling of how it must be soft and warm rather than cold and stiff from sitting stale for hours. He was glad his body was used to such a hunger for his stomach did not growl at the idea of the petty portions he was so used to.

Once more followed behind, making sure to walk far enough away that nobody would assume wrongly that he was attempting to place himself as the equals of the Magos but close enough that he would be on hand should he require him. It took a moment for him to realise that someone was talking to him, the one from earlier who had sped past who introduced himself as Quintin.
"Ah.. I.. I thank you for your kindness, sir." His voice was low and lacking in emotion, a practised monotone that served to draw no ire from his betters. A confused look spread across his face like the blossoming of a rose as he looked down at the hand that was offered to him, having no idea how to address the action he simply blinked slowly, hoping that someone would explain before he caused some form of offence.