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A marking showed who the slave's trader was. A more known slave trader's mark, meant that the slave was more expensive, but higher quality. Zack's marking was a black butterfly, the mark of a very well known slave trader. Than coupled with his unusual hair and eye color made him an expensive slave.
A man reached through the bars of his cage to try and touch Zack. The slave cringed away from the man's touch, but his reaction was sluggish because of the drugs. The man's fingers still brushed against his face, causing the slave to shrink away. The man laughed at Zack's reaction and walked away.
The auction was beginning, each slave would be auctioned one by one, putting them on the spot. The ones who were auctioned off would become personal slaves to whoever bought them, the ones who weren't would continue their work at the brothel. It wasn't Zack's first auction, he knew the routine by now. He had just never been sold before. He guessed that people just wanted him for a night or two and didn't actually care for him at all. Zack sighed as the auction moved a little closer to him. Maybe today would be his 'lucky' day.
Sara only spent a few seconds looking at him. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a slave that would be up for sale soon-- he was almost next in the line. He looked... malnourished. She had seen malnourishment before, of course. It was a rare day a slave wasn't so skinny their bones were visible. But this seemed worse. Like his bones poked out a little more or his eyes were that much more sad. Sara looked at him sadly before noting his hair and eyes. He would more than likely be desirable to the crowd, in a way she never was. Even as... untouched, as she was-- she never became a personal slave. She was always either too young or too plain. In fact, her owner had often told her this, cursing her for not being born with unusual hair or eyes. He always said that was why she came so cheep-- not that she was useful for anything but cleaning and tending to wounds.
Sara looked down at her feet and shuffled them quietly before hugging herself tightly, remembering what it felt like to be in those cages, to feel like she was trapped. To feel horribly exposed. Sara was suddenly very thankful for the simple white dress she wore-- it covered her well and hid she scars on her back. It also covered the marking she had been branded with as a slave (in some of the books she had found she discovered that a tattoo in that place used to be called a 'tramp stamp'. Sara found that horribly fitting). Her's was in the shape of an flower. It was a design that marked her as middle-quality, at least going by how well people knew her previous slave trader.
The small brunette touched her shoulder almost immediately, where one of her deeper scars rested. It was the only one she couldn't hide with makeup or clothing unless she wore a coat. It ran over her shoulder blade and wrapped around her shoulder before twisting out over her arm, just poking out under the straps of her dress. She became aware that anyone behind her would be able to see even more of it, as it was only really hidden except for that one spot if someone was looking at her from the front. She shuddered and shut her eyes tightly before taking a deep breath and looking at the male currently on the selling floor.
David glanced over at Sara-Anne, sitting next to him in the auction house. She was probably the only female in the whole entire world that he could handle, all the other ones annoyed him to no end. His mother had left his dad when he was little, but he was old enough to know that none of it was the eldest Grace's fault. Mom had just been insufferable, only cared about money and slaves, the opposite of his father. They were wealthy, yes, but his father hated taking advantage of that. His mother was horrible, when she left she told them that she had never cared about either of them, and had never loved his father, and that he had been a mistake. David was nine at the time, and it scarred him, made him grow resentful towards women. All women. Though he didn't think that was the reason he preferred to be with guys either, because he was sure that if he really found a girl he liked, he could be with her. Like Sara-Anne, but she was sort of almost ten years younger than him.
The blonde picked the slaves he bought at random. They all needed help, unfortunately he could not afford or house them all. Sometimes it was every three got bought, or every four. Or it was hair color, he bought all of the blondes or all of the red heads. It was completely random, so they he could not feel biased or, well, just like the slave-owners that actually bought them to make him slaves. He also did this secretly, never did he bid on an auction himself. That would just give it away, yes? People in this world wanted the slaves, they didn't know how to work without them. If they found out he was buying slaves just to help them out and then set them free, they would find a way to get rid of him. Whether it be by banning him from auctions or putting a red X on his back, he wouldn't be able to help anymore. Instead he had contacts, which he gave his preference to and they bought
them for him.
Today was the first time ever that he actually stood up and bid at an auction. His preference today was orange and black hair, just something random, and butterfly tattoo's. Neither things were this boy, but something about him... It was literally impossible for him not to stand and bid. A few minutes later and he was standing up and walking off without a reason, not telling Sara where he was going as he headed towards where the sold slaves would be going- where he would meet the boy he had just bought.
Zack stared at the man he was sold to, he looked nice enough. But Zack had learned the hard way that looks were decieving. His back still ached from the last nice looking man who had bought him for the night. Well, it was only the night before, so it was no wonder. The man who had bought him had been rather stressed from work and being a sadist, tortured Zack for several hours. Whip scars and burn marks covered his back, all but his butterfly tattoo, which was left untouched.
Zack's slave trader opened his cage and grabbed him roughly by the arm. The slave couldn't do much but follow him, he didn't have any strength because of the drugs. He was led to the area with all the other bought slaves. Most of which were sitting there looking utterly stoned. Zack didn't have to wonder why for long. The familiar prick of a needle in his arm told the slave that they had been drugged. Again. Moments later, Zack slid to the floor, feeling the full effect of the drugs. They wanted to keep slaves completely helpless until they got to their new homes. It didn't start happening until about a year ago, slaves who were kept in brothels tended to get ideas of escape when they saw the sun for the first time in years. Drugging them to the point where they could barely remember their own names solved that.
Zack had no choice but to sit there and wait to meet his new master.
Sara caught up with David quickly before he walked into the area reserved for the purchased slaves. She touched his shoulder lightly so he wouldn't be freaked out when she was standing right behind him. That would do no good if he was berating her while speaking with a new slave. Especially if he was on drugs. Which all the slaves were, normally.
"I couldn't stay back there alone. There was a girl that looked too much like me..." Sara weakly explained as she hung her head in mock-submission, just in case anyone were to ask why she was there. Easy enough to explain she was a slave-- she had the proof, after all.
As Sara walked closer to the male David had bid on, she realized it was the same one she had seen earlier. The one she figured would be desirable. Currently, he looked horribly drugged. Of course, so did everyone else, but still. Sara followed after David quietly, waiting for him to make the first move. She was supposed to be a slave, after all-- seen but never heard.
"Take care of him." David didn't even turn his attention to Sara, just gave the command and walked off, expecting her to follow it. Normally he was not like that, never rude, very understanding of everyone and everything. This was different though, they were in public, and while some masters weren't monsters to their slaves, they weren't nice either. David could act no differently, he would give them no reason to look into his affairs. They would find out then about what he was doing, how he was using that wonderful mansion his father had left him when he had died. That he was helping slaves get back on their feet instead of having them running around cleaning floors and paintings and statues that weren't even dirty.
Not wanting to seem like he was interested in this new slave of his, he instead moved around to the other ones he knew would be coming home with him, seeing if any had anything that particularly stood out like the purple haired boy had. There was one girl that was tapping a rhythm on her knee, consistently, and seeming to bob her head to nonexistent music. When he engaged her in conversation, he was reassured that it wasn't that she was crazy, and instead enjoyed music. It had been a long time since he had run into another being that loved music as he did, and was glad to know that he might be able to teach the girl some of the things. No one had ever really been interested in the music room, none other than him.
Once the auction had ended, he made his way back to the slave he had bought, hoping the drugs may have worn off at least slightly by then. He would need to get him to at least stand up, or perhaps he could carry him... But he would not want to frighten the boy. Looking around for Sara, he quirked an eyebrow when he met her eyes, then gestured to the slave in a... What am I supposed to do now? sort of way. "Should I carry him?"
Unlike every other slave that Zack had met, she looked healthy. She was well fed, well clothed, and looked almost happy. If Zack wasn't a slave himself, he wouldn't be able to tell what she was. But he was so he saw the signs. He broke his gaze when the man returned. He said something to the girl and it took Zack's brain a moment to register it. But when he did, he realized he needed to stand up. He didn't want to be a bother to his master, especially on the first day.
He didn't say anything, not wanting to make him angry. Instead Zack forced his drugged body to his feet, standing impressively stable. His stubborn nature was kicking in. He took a huge risk and decided to speak. "I think I can walk." He said softly.
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"Of course, David. You have to carry all the people you buy- don't you ever look over the rules" she said sarcastically with a slight giggle, knowing full well that the new slave on the ground would be confused by her forward and snarky approach to talking with the person who supposedly owned her. The slave in question began to stand, and Sara clapped her hands together and grabbed his arm to help him up. Before just as quickly letting him go and letting him stand on his own, mostly so she could see if he was stable.
"I think I can walk," the male said softly and Sara nodded her head before looking over at David and tilting her head to the exit as if in question. She really didn't want to stay any longer than she had to, but if David wanted to stick around a bit she would stay with him. She really wanted to get back to the large home of David's and tend to the wounds of the newly saved slaves. She knew some of them would need immediate attention or the scars they had could very well get infected and she didn't want to have to end her day without everyone at least checked over.
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David was actually a bit surprised to see the slave stand. Even if it had been almost two hours since he must have been drugged, the rest of the slaves still seemed pretty out of it. That had to mean something, perhaps he had done this a lot? The blonde knew that some slaves came to the auction often and never got sold but... Well, he didn't like to think about it. Sometimes he wished he hadn't been born to such a rich family, hadn't had to live through the divorce of his mum and dad, and then he saw this and felt like what was possibly the most selfish person in the whole entire universe. He had all of this money, this huge house, many people who wanted to be him- and he was still complaining about it all.
Sara clapping her hands brought the current situation back to the front of his mind, and he followed suit with a quick clap of his own and the flash of a smile, glad to see the 'slave' up and standing fairly steadily. He hated how his mental self had to continue calling him slave though, and made a note to ask his name as soon as he could. "Sara, when we get back to the mansion.. I'll take care of him." He gave a brisk nod, though his cheeks were flushed pink in embarrassment. He never took this sort of interest in a slave, he was usually detached, not wanting to get too close to them in case they relapsed.
"Come on then, the car should be waiting out front. If you feel faint you can lean on Sara or I."
"Come on then, the car should be waiting out front. If you feel faint you can lean on Sara or I." Zack gave the man a small nod and followed behind the man and Sara. He noticed that serveral other slaves were following too. Obviously this man was rich if he could afford multiple slaves. Again, Zack wondered what was going to happen to him now. What would he be expected to do as a personal slave? Better yet, what was a car?
Zack had only ever heard of them, the metal contraptions that let you travel faster than walking. One the nicer customers Zack had sometimes told him things about the outside world. he was always eager to learn things. It may help him now.
The first step outside was a total shock to Zack and the other slaves. They all covered their eyes from the brightness of the sun and seemed totally confused by all the new sounds and smells.
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Sara walked next to the purple-haired male as they walked to the car, holding her hands clasped in her lap. When they were outside, she waited a moment for the others to adjust before placing her hand on the purple-haired one's shoulder. "What's your favorite color?" she asked quickly as they reached the car. She wanted to make sure to plant a flower in that color, as she did with most of the others that came through. Her garden was really more of a sign-in sheet of who had come and gone through the years, complete with a little nameplate for every one. If she was asked about it, she normally just told people she liked to name her flowers. Odd, sure, but everyone had their quirks and that wouldn't raise suspicion.
The small brunette climbed into the vehicle after helping some of the others inside. Some of them seemed very dazed about the car and the sun. Sara could remember being like that, too. The outside world being such a mystery to her, and then a wonder once she saw it. Now, of course, she bustling noises of the world seemed as natural as breathing to her, and she took a moment to be thankful for that. Once she was settled into the car and the others were too, she grabbed a small notebook from the holder beside her, as well as a pen. She really still didn't like car rides, though many of the other slaves that came through seemed to like it. She never had. It had scared her. Writing and drawing and planning out gardens in her notebook took her mind off of that. Plus it was a wonderful way to practice her vocabulary and writing skills, which were sort of new. She'd never needed to write as a slave and words like 'aspiration' wasn't something she had needed to know. Besides, slaves didn't have aspirations, and now she did, so the word was needed in her new life. And hopefully, so would the newly purchased slaves. If all went well, they would all be successful and happy in life.
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The other slaves were not supposed to be following them. It defeated the whole entire purpose of having someone else to buy them for him. Pulling out his cell, he sent a rather annoyed text to whom he had purchase the slaves that day, then made a note to remember to never let the man do it again. There were plenty others though that he had, and losing one person would not matter much. So long as he didn't go and try to tell everyone about his scheme, which he doubted would happen, it wasn't like he paid the people to do it. They mostly offered, were people who didn't agree with the slavery either, and were his friends. David didn't just trust anyone to do the job, that would be foolish. For a rich boy in his early twenties, the blonde man was not stupid.
Fortunately, the other cars that the other slaves were supposed to go in were still there. After helping them into the respectful cars, he got into his own personal car with Sara and the purple haired boy- they were the only ones. Without him having to say anything, the butler shut his door and moved around to the front seat. A few moments later the car lurched and they were off, heading towards his mansion a little less than a half hour away.
The windows of the cars were tinted, so that it was not too bright for the slaves, whom were not used to sunlight. Though they were not blacked out either, so it was like a prison, David didn't want them to think negatively about their first experience out. They could look out the windows without their eyes hurting very badly, which he counter as a plus. Turning towards the ex-slave, he stuck out his hand in a friendly and hopefully non-scary way. "I'm David, what's your name?"
He picked purple because people liked him because of his odd hair color. The slaves were loaded into different cars, something that confused Zack, but he wasn't going to question his master. He, himself was put in the same car as the man and Sara. As soon as the door was closed Zack's claustrophobia started kicking in. Usually it didn't bother him when he was in a cage, because he could see outside of it, reach through it, things like that. But being trapped inside this metal contraption with three other people was very different. Zack didn't like it. Automatically he hugged his knees to his chest and got as far away from the other people as he could.
The man stuck a hand out toward him. "I'm David, what's your name?" Zack had no idea why the man was stucking his hand out, he didn't know how to respond to it. So he simply looked down at his knees and said his name, "Zack." He hoped he didn't do something wrong with the hand, he had heard about some masters who would take any excuse to punish their slaves. Zack hoped he didn't get one of those masters.
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"I'm David, what's your name? David said as the car drove off, and Sara decided to skip the formalities for now. So, she turned back to her notebook and doodled in the margins, mostly of little stick figures because she had no idea how to draw. She faintly heard the purple-haired boy say his name was Zack, and she quickly said "I'm Sara, nice to meet you, Zack," before doodling little flowers. She still had to decide what flower to plant for Zack. A violet would be far too ordinary (besides, she already had a violet planted for a girl coincidentally named Violet who liked the color purple). After some thought, she decided on a Veronica. Pretty enough and easy to grow, so she could plant it farther out in the garden (it was a fairly large garden and she got tired sometimes and put it off, so the easy to grow plants were always in the back).
Sara slowly made plans for the planting of the Veronica on the page of her notebook, deciding where to put it and things of that nature. She had an already flowering one growing in the greenhouse, mostly because it was one of her favorite flowers, so she decided to move that one into the sign-in garden. Easy enough, and simple too.
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It was always difficult with the ex-slaves at first. They didn't know anything of the world they lived in now. They were confused, and lost, and uneducated. That part probably took the longest, trying to educate them. There was definitely a reason that children started school so early, because it was easier to teach them at that age. These boys and girls were already teens usually, and they sometimes didn't even know their own name, or what a color was. They knew numbers, they knew terms of pain, they knew everything that they would have to know to work in a brothel and nothing more. A slave that knew more than he was supposed to was a dangerous slave, because knowing meant hoping in a way. If they knew of something better, they could want something more, and who knew what happened from there. A long time ago he had met with a man who had lived before slavery, and wasn't fooled into it. David was not much older than fifteen or sixteen, but everything that had been told to him... stuck with him.
Especially with nice masters. Slaves had a tendency to be untrusting, totally understandable, you know? When they met a nice master, that seemed maybe even like they wanted to be a friend, they didn't buy it. Obviously their master was just trying to trick them, make them believe they might be okay and then make life hell. But that wasn't the case when it came to David and how he treated them, but who was he to tell them that and have them believe it? Instead he just acted like he would with any other person he met, or well, mostly, and let them figure it out for themselves. For some reason, it usually just worked out better that way. Though sometimes he would have to break out of character to explain something, like then.
"It's very nice to meet you Zack." He kept his hand out though, then used his other to point at Zack's opposite hand. "It's called a hand shake. You put your hand in mine, and then we sort of shake them." He leaned back a little, then looked to Sara. "Here, I'll shake Sara's hand as a demonstration." After showing him how it was done, he stuck his hand back out towards Zack, still smiling kindly. "Wanna try again?"
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