Angela found herself seated in front of her vanity dresser, carefully piling her thick, dark brunette locks on top of her head. She carefully pinned it in place, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her illusive dark eyes, and tanned face met her, and she smiled vainly at her appearance. She stood up slowly, smoothing down the folds of her white dress, before glancing at the small list, pinned to the mirror.
The neat, elegant handwriting reminded her of the days tasks. She needed to organise herself for tomorrow night mainly, that and the usual chores. She rang the small bell on her dresser, waiting for her small messenger boy to come in. A soft rap on the door warned her of his presence before she allowed him access to her room. Without looking at the boy, Angela quickly layout the tasks that were needed.
She'd instructed Callie to be cleaning the house, Iggy was to be gardening, Marklex would probably be out hunting unless he was back…
"Let Antares know that I will be out acquiring new slaves, and he is to have the house organised. He and Fletchyr need to make sure the outside gate is fixed as soon as possible...I don't care who does it, whether themselves or some of the others, but it needs to be done. That's it"
She waved her hand to dismiss him, before remembering.
"Oh. And tell Antares Evie needs to be cleaning the servants dorms properly this time, otherwise she'll be in for another lesson"
She nodded in satisfaction, shooing the small boy down the stairs as made her way out of the house. At the moment she was fairly content with her staff, minus Evie, so she'd just purchase a few cheap slaves for tomorrow night at the main market. It was nice to be in control. So far she'd purposefully kept any of her servants from knowing who was to be Bound or a Hunter. The less they knew the better, and it would also ensure that each was working to their full potential to avoid being Bound. The situation suited Angela just fine, it wasn't an issue if you had the money to afford slaves.
Miss Edwards made her way down the stairs glancing over the interior of her rather expensive and elegant house. Everything was perfect, just how she liked it. Everything was in it's proper place, her possessions carefully tended to by her slaves. She made sure each of them was presentable. Girls with the plain, clean white corset, and long white skirts, boys clean white garments to match. It was the only thing they were allowed to own, no need to have them worrying about their own possessions, much more useful to worry about her own things.
Before Angela made her way out the door, she grabbed three of the silver bands used to mark each of her slaves. They were simple silver cuffs, to be worn on the left hand of her slaves. They were required in Tarsha, to make sure each slave was labelled. The cuffs wouldn't come off without Angela's small silver key, and were permanent unless slaves where re-sold or deceased.
After quickly checking she had organised everything, Angela left the household and walked down the broad street to the main markets due East of her wealthier district. Already, however, Angela could smell the bustling, and filthy place. Her carefully sculptured face moved slightly as her mouth hardened in anticipation of the filthy market place. How Angela hated it. The noisy and rough crowds, the beggars on the street and the continuous yelling and promoting sales. None the less, she needed the slaves, and decided she didn't want anyone else picking them.
She made her way through the fruit stalls and finally found herself in front of the slave market. She frowned slightly, careful to not crease the flawless skin on her forehead, as she realised how crowded the area was. No doubt many were here trying to find Bound slaves as well. Her lip curled slightly, but she managed to push her way closer to the front to get a better view of the goods for sale.
It appeared they had two different nationalities in stock, as well as the usual street urchins. Just behind the bidding area, the rest of the stock were getting organised. It appeared they had both the strong, warrior yet also rather uncivilised Helvanians and in another roped off area and bunch of Syri. That was rather good fortune. About last month, Syra had broken a treaty with Tarsha. The Syri normally supplied Tarsha's wood industry, however apparently couldn't keep up with the logging demand, eventually the Tarshan government, namely the emperor, had decided to take revenge, raiding the closest villages. Those slaves must have come from one of those areas. Currently they were quite popular. Mainly because of their appearance, the strange, beautiful, pure white skin and the dark hair, but also because most knew the language of Tarsha due to their previous involvement. The woman were also known to be quite weak, meaning better Bound slaves.
There was also rumour of the Helvanian tribes that had recently tried to attack civilised Tarsha. The government had said the soldiers were bravely out numbered, but managed to beat back the savages, however Angela had heard the other rumours of the Helvanians being vastly outnumbered and killing an extraordinary amount of the Tarshan soldiers. Angela herself wasn't all that interested, though she tended to believe the latter story. The Tarshan government would not like it known that the Helvanians had stronger fighters. Nonetheless, they were now also available for purchase. Apparently they were going rathe cheap as the government wanted them split up as quickly as possible.
Aside from the two different nationalities, there was also the misfits, the more average slaves, but also known to be the most reliable.
Finding herself wanting try out each, Angela quickly decided she'd purchase on of each to see how they were. That way if she liked one or the other she could purchase more, and if she didn't like them, well they'd be gone anyway.





Arya frantically tried to get back into the middle of the group of her people, as she noticed the Tarshan slave masters walking over. The were all roped in near the small platform that served as bidding area. She tried to press back into the middle, away from the outside, when one of the men grabbed her arm, hauling her out of the small pen, forcing her away from the rest of the Syri. She let out a cry, before she felt a sharp pain on the side of her head. She let out a gasp as she realised the man had slapped her. He promptly dragged her over to the side of the platform, binding her hands behind her back forcing her into the line of slaves ready to be sold. She turned, getting the last glimpse of the people she understood, before her head was thrust to the front.
The growing number of people in the market place made Arya feel sick with apprehension. She'd already watched a dozen or so people sold, and she could feel the line in front of her grow steadily shorter. Her hands were bound awkwardly behind her back, and feet were shackled together to minimize the possibility of escape. Her throat was raw from the lack of moisture and her stomach felt hollow and empty. Everyone around her seemed different. She stood out like a sore thumb amongst the locals, her pale skin standing in stark contrast to the darker tones around her. One of the slave masters grabbed a club and hit her harshly on the back of the head. She let out a pained gasp, but shuffled forward slightly. The stocky young lad in front of her was forced forward and she watched as the crowd started to place bets on him. The whole process made Arya feel completely worthless as the bidding grew louder and soon a wooden placard was hung around his neck saying simply "sold".
The boy was quickly taken away and handed over to his new master. All of the bidding was like this. There was simply no way to escape. As soon as you were sold, your feet were unshackled and you were taken straight to your new master end of story. Something sharp dug into her back as she was forced forward and onto the rough platform. Her green eyes widened at the sight of so many people, and she found herself unconsciously stepping backwards before one of the men shoved her forward again. Her mouth went dry as the man selling her began to highlight her good features. All Arya managed to notice were the words "serving girl" and "cooking" as the rest of the words went into a blur.
She was forced to stand there as the man continued to talk her up. Her tattered white dress was torn and dirty, her long black hair now tangled and unkempt. She could just imagine how many would want a half starved girl of sixteen, that obviously did not have much strength to her.
Seeing that he wasn't having much luck on swaying the crowd to buy her at more expensive price, he tried a different tact.
"...and of course after you use her for the serving and cooking, there's always the option for a cheaper bound slave."
Arya's face transformed into shock. She'd only heard of Bound servants briefly on the ship. They were simply described as the least favoured slaves that were up for the worst type of punishment. No one bothered enlightening her further. Surely they couldn't already decide to punish her already? She hadn't even been bought yet...she briefly wondered what exactly being Bound would entail, but quickly decided against the thought process. If it was worse than some of the other punishments listed, she didn't want to think about it.
Another pang of hunger hit her hard, and she swayed slightly, before one of the men gripped both her arms holding her steady it wouldn't do to have her collapse and only add to her undesirable features. She glanced behind her, finding the next person in line, waiting for her part to be over. Arya's head was suddenly wrenched around to face the crowd.
Her eye's met a tall, proud woman who began the bid. The numbers were bounced back and forth before quickly halting.
The harsh wooden placard was thrust around her neck before her shoulders were grabbed, and she was forcibly moved from the platform. She was quickly un-shackled and handed over to her new master.
"Name" the word was cold and straightforward.
"Arya Tundra" she managed to whisper, before a thick silver band was forced onto her left wrist. The slave master behind her started to untie her.
"No. Leave her for now" her new mistress ordered, and the man quickly backed off.
"You will call me miss Edwards" Once again the tone was harsh and matter of fact, before her mistress turned back to the platform, dutifully ignoring Arya.
She so desperately wanted to sink to the ground and weep, but the cold list of punishments stood as a sharp reminder to keep herself strong. She fought back the tears, staring at the ground praying that she'd some how get through, and trying desperately not to think of home. It was so different here. Hot and humid compared to Syra...she cut herself off, refusing to think of the white snow of her home.

Another slave was thrust forward onto the platform, and the bidding started all over again...

Callie dusted up aboe the windows, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the high cobwebs. She was in the parlour, where the guests would usually sit, if they were ever to come ovver. She had been instructed by Miss Edwards to clean. She hadn't been very specific about where, but Callie presumed she meant the entire house.

It was hard to focus, though, as all the slaves knew what tomorrow was. Tomorrow was the Blood Oath Ceremony. Callie's mind kept drifting off, thinking about the next day. Miss Edwards had left no hints about who would be Bound, and who a Hunter. The slaves could only hope it wasn't them, and that was the only reason that Callie didn't stop this tidying completely. If she didn't want to be a Bound, then she had better keep cleaning.

Just that moment, Callie heard a door opening. She glanced out the window to see Miss Edwards walking down the path, presumably to the Market. Callie couldn't think of anywhere else she would be going. Perhaps to buy a dress for tomorrow?

Callie shook her head, awakening from her daydream. She had to concentrate. Besides, she was almost done. This was her last room, then a quick spot check over the rooms again, before no more work. Until Miss Edwards came hope, at least.

She swiftly moved her wrist as she flicked the duster left and right, removing any trace of a cobweb. She put her arm down and stood back to admire her work of the room. Not a pillow left unfluffed or a table left unpolished. Callie gave a "Hmph!" of satisfaction, before turning around and striding out of the room.

After making sure not a speck of dust was left in each of the house rooms, Callie made her way back down the stairs. She remembered overhearing Miss Edwards talkin to someoneabout Gardening, which was most likely why the house was seemingly so quiet. But she couldn't be bothered to head outside, so instead started walking around the rooms, absentmindedly playing with the silver 'bracelet' around her wrist.

She glanced at an expensive looking mirror, making sure her hair looked presentable. She knew that, in Miss Edwards opinion, presentation of a person was one of the most important characteristics in any slave. Her hair was tied back in an exquisite french braid, so not to get in the way of her work. Her outfit was simple, but flattering - A plain white corset and long white skirt, just like the est of the female slaves. On her shoes she had white flats, giving her an almost delicate look to her. Her faded blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the sun's reflection of the mirror's surface. Callie gave a small smile to herself, and slight dimples appeared at the corners of her lips.

Callie blinked, and shook her head slightly. She should do something, though what to do, she wasn't sure. She had cleaned the house, and everyone else was doing the rest. And cooking was not Callie's strong point.

She sighed. She could at least look like she was cleaning. Or doing something that could help her Master. If Miss Edwards walked in to see Callie looking at her reflection... Callie winced at the thought. And that might make Miss Edwards decide to make her a Bound.

She quickly walked away from the mirror, and picked up the duster from where she had left it. There is something to do, she thought to herself. You foolish girl, what were you thinking, leaving the duster on the recently polished table? Fortunately, it hadn't ruined the table, but still... Callie made her way to the cupboard, to put make the cleaning supply.

A small and frail figure stood stolidly in the corner of the servant's room. The small candles that were allowed flickered with listlessness in the darkness. However, they did highlight the figure's facials and her red-orange hair. If it had been better kempt, however, it might even have reflected the fire's light. But nay, she had little to no time to herself, unless she was working all alone. The door had remained open, so when the messenger came in, it was still a small surprise. The girl, Iggy, had been looking down at her feet, waiting quietly to be put to work again. Everything was so different here. "Miss Edwards has put you to the task of gardening today. You should have learned what she likes by now."
And with that, the boy left. Iggy quietly clutched her left arm, and quickly shuffled out of the room.

Will Miss Angela punish me if I get my skirt dirty? It is... gardening after all. She could never be sure, though. She was frightened of her cruel mistress, and had at least learned never to talk period in her first week of working here. It wasn't a solid rule, that is, but she took it upon herself to learn it anyway. So the small girl stood at the doorway, her hands clasped together nervously as she looked both left and right down the hallways before pushing weakly on the doors. However, she couldn't quite get the door to open, so she had to put most of her strength into pushing into it; So much so that her feet slid back slowly as she attempted. Once the door was open, she stepped cautiously outside into the heat. Her hand was immediately brought up to shield her poor eyes from the elements, and she quickly scampered towards the gardens without even the thought to pull up her skirt as she did so.

Quietly she crouched on her knees, pulling up her skirt and wincing. Bruises ran up her thighs and a bit on her shins, but the twelve year old girl did her best to ignore them and get straight to work, lest more bruises be added to the collection. She placed one arm on her knees and began to dig in the soil with her other. The soil, instead of being packed down and choking the plants, needed to be freshened and rotated. Iggy carefully placed her chin on her knees, a crestfallen expression on her face. It had only been about two weeks since she was sold to the devil spawn that was Miss Angela, (and any other slave master for that matter), and her wounds were still fresh and foreboding; the mental wounds, that is. The screams still echoed in her head; the smell of smoke was still fresh and all-surrounding; the pain was still clutching and digging into her; the faces of those she loved and held dear, bloody and mangled and pocked with the mirror images of their internal pain twisted external; but the two worst things that continuously haunted in her waking hours and the hours of rest were her mother and her little lamb. She had been wrenched mercilessly from her mother, forced to watch her slaughtered before herself. Everything was burned, nothing was spared save that of herself and perhaps the sheep up on the ridge. Iggy at least prayed every night that her small lamb was preserved and kept from the vicious men who ransacked her home.

As she worked, her eyes only blinked a couple of times, reflecting the battle and the flames of her very much still fresh past. The orbs slightly reddened, and moistened very clearly as the tears started to spill over and roll down her cheeks silently. Her facial features were taut and she allowed none of the emotion to be shown on her face other than the tears which had to be shed. She did this sort of thing only when she was alone and couldn't be found out or punished. If she didn't, she knew she would break. What I wouldn't do for even the smallest of hats. I must risk asking Miss Angela; but I have not the foggiest idea if she would allow such a thing. Maybe I could tell her that I would sunburn with all those hours. I mean, it is true.... The small girl thought quietly to herself, blinking away the tears and raising one hand to wipe her forehead with.




Markelx growled silently to himself, his eyes narrowing viciously as he glared around the small clearing. He absently thumbed the dagger he always carried with him, frowning at how dull it had gotten. He stamped his foot on the ground, alone in his hunting. I am going to have to get this sharpened. I'll just take a short break to sharpen it up just a bit. He shouldered the leather satchel that was situated on his back, and walked off to go find a good stone to work on his precious knife. Unfortunately, he wandered a bit too far off and soon found himself in unfamiliar territory. His whole figure tensed and he pressed his thumb into the knife with irritation, making the faintest of cuts there. He set his facial features, and turned left, sitting down and picking up a small rock. It was hardly perfect, but it'd have to do. He placed his left thumb on the bottom of the blade to hold it there, and began to slide the groove of the rock on the edges. It created a small amount of friction, and a couple of harmless sparks flew off, but Mark was soon finished with the job. He sighed lightly, brushing off a few stray bits of gravel from his dark brown pants and light shirt. He was fortunate not to have to wear white while hunting. It would be the most foolish thing in the world. He shook his head, refocusing. Now to go find something worthwhile to use as an excuse for wandering off beyond my bounds. The boy set his jaw, slipping underneath a bush and making his way along, searching for a trail.

Soon finding what he was looking for, Markelx quickly crouched down, scrutinizing the hoof-prints cautiously. Deer wasn't something many of the hunters found often, so his sneaking out of the northeast gate would pay off nicely. The hunters mainly hunted inside the Great Park or out in the southern gates of Tarsha. It was a pain in the butt to get past the guards, sure, but he was tired of hanging around the Great park where the meat was so unappetizing. Nonetheless, he refocused on his task, soon coming to a very narrow stream where a doe and a buck stood grazing lazily. The boy's entire body tensed and he stood there frozen, his eyes following the doe and waiting for her to get into position to strike. It was at least a thirty minute wait, but he had been trained for this. As soon as her chest shown, Markelx carefully raised up his hand, dagger at the ready, and he pulled his arm back. It was absolutely crucial for the doe not to tense, lest the kill be made harder for himself.

With a good amount of force, he pushed the weapon forward, launching it from his hand and having it stick right into the chest. He had missed his initial mark of the heart, but by some luck he pierced a lung. The buck reared in panic, and then bounded off. The doe was in absolute fear, her whole body going rigid and limp, rigid and limp. She too leaped away into the forest, and then the pursuit began. Mark only needed to keep the doe in his sight until she collapsed from the lack of oxygen in one lung.

After a little while of pursuit, the doe finally collapsed, her eyes becoming glassy as her breathing ceased. Markelx smiled smugly, wrenching the dagger free from its point and wiping the blood off in the grass. He set it carefully in his satchel, and looked at the doe with satisfaction. He crouched with his knees, hoisting up the doe across his shoulders, and began backtracking. Hopefully he had left his own imprints clearly enough to find his way back to Miss Edward's district.

Fletchyr Caile

A blonde figure crouched in front of a gate under the gaze of the morning sun. Screeeeee the gate complained when he pushed it. His dexterous hands examined the broken hinges of the structure. Too much use had sent the gate into a broken state, and it was now his job to fix it. Not explicitly, but Fletchyr took any job that floated in his direction if no specific servant was ordered to perform the task. His white shirt was rolled up and his slightly sunburned elbows were exposed. His hair fluffed around his face, and he had an intent look in his blue eyes. The simplest thing to do would be to remove the hinges, but that would also be the most time consuming activity.

The young man leaned closer, until his nose was nearly touching the contraption. The hinge, two bits of metal connected by a long bolt wedged between them, was not only worn, but the bolt was twisted on the bottom hinge. Which was the reason for the screeching and for the resistance. It needed a new bolt. Fletchyr didn't have a bolt to put there, but he could put a temporary wooden on in it's place and tell Antares that they needed a replacement later. The wooden one would hold for a good seven or eight days, but then it would be too sheared to continue performing it's task.

The male pushed his sleeves up further and bent so his leg was supporting the lower part of the gate, holding it up. Then he slowly eased the twisted bit of metal from its nook, his forearm muscles standing out from the effort of removing the firmly lodged item. He twisted it a couple times, and it complained in a loud whine before pulling free. Fletchyr stumbled backwards, the lump of metal gripped in his fist and a look of surprise on his face. The gate sagged with another grating sound.

The blonde cursed as he regained his balance and moved to hold up the gate again. He selected a piece of wood from the leather bag of supplies for fixing such things as gates, and he grabbed the slightly blunt knife as well. Quickly he began shearing thin strips of wood off the lump. When it seemed to be an appropriate size, Fletcher placed it over the hinge and began hitting it, alternating between his fist and the butt of the tool until it was firmly wedged. Then he slowly tested the gate's weight against the makeshift hinge. It held reluctantly. Carefully, Fletchyr swung the gate open and closed. His metal band clanked against the gate as he pulled it shut, and he decided that it would do.

Fletchyr stretched upwards briefly, pushing his sleeves back down. He looked around to make sure there weren't any other servants milling around, then bent himself backwards only when he was sure that there weren't. Each segment of his spine popped pleasantly, releasing the aching feeling in his back. Then he pushed back up, pulled his shirt back down, and picked up his supplies. He still liked his contortions and memories of his old life, but he didn't particularly enjoy nosy servants bothering him about his abilities, so he only did such things when he was almost completely positive no one was near.

The young man returned the tool bag to its home, and then set off in search of Antares to inform him that he had finished the task, receive a new one, and also to let the man know that a new bolt was needed before the gate broke again. His head was angled down, and he had a blank look on his face, but he was completely aware of his surroundings. he often let his features and his body slump even when his mind was active, it was part of his 'autopilot' setting. he had to remain cognizant of everything, but at the same time, sometimes looking too interested wasn't a good thing. Of course, his blank look was slightly marred by the smear of hinge grease on his face, across his nose and left cheek, right under one of his opaque blue eyes.

Soren Meade

Soren stumbled as a man grabbed her upper arm and wrenched her upward into a standing position, the girl biting her lip to remain silent instead of cry out at the sudden pain she felt. His dirty nails were sharp and dug into her flesh as he roughly shoved her forward, apparently she was next to be sold.

The blonde felt the rope, holding her hands tied behind her back, cut into her already raw wrists as she shuffled her bare feet along to keep from falling over. The heavy shackles around her ankles and the chains were heavy, very heavy. Even for a usually strong girl like her.

She was only wearing her long black dress, made of a thin material, that was torn and had a large rip from her ankle to her knee. The material hung off her shoulders, showing how large it truly was on her.. Or perhaps how thin she was. Her long blonde curls framed her face, not allowing the harsh conditions drag them down. Literally.

She kept her expression blank, her bright blue eyes staring ahead and seeming to see nothing as she listened to the voice that spoke highly of her better traits.

" This girl here is only seventeen years old, ladies and gentlemen." The man moved over to her and pinched her right arm, making her stiffen at the contact. " She may be small but she's certainly strong and, if you don't think she'd do well for serving or other chores, perhaps an entertainer?" His hands moved from her skin as he took a few steps away and looked out at the staring people. " She has quite the voice and hands that suit the piano.." He trailed off, hesitating for a moment before continuing. Soren tuned out now, not wanting to hear the other good points other than her rather pitiful strength and incredible singing.

She had seen that black haired pale skinned girl, watching as she nearly fell over from the hunger that gnawed at each of the slaves' bellies. Even her own which, by now, refused to even growl. She was used to hunger, having grown up with not much to eat, and so the lack of food didn't bother her as it did for others. Not to say that it didn't bother her at all but just not as much.

She didn't notice when the bidding began but did, however, notice as the hunk of wood with the single word 'sold' was placed around her neck. Hardly a moment later, Soren was grabbed roughly and pulled from the platform and her shackles unlocked. Her ankles, worn raw from the harsh metal, felt as though they would give, protesting as she continued to walk with the cruel man who held her. He stopped, suddenly, in front of a woman and a thick silver band was placed over her left wrist.

This would be hers. The mark of a slave.

She didn't know it but Soren was treated the same as the girl before her, the very girl who stood a few metres away.

" Name?"

" Soren Meade," was her quiet response as she figured it was best to play at meek.

" You will call me Miss Edwards."

The woman was cold, distinctly making sure Soren was aware that her status was far below her own.

Soren brought her head up to look over at Arya, her blue eyes seeming brighter than before. She was not going to be treated like this the entire time, no way. But Soren figured it was best to wait until they got to wherever she would be taken next. Miss Edwards' house? Most likely.

Evie Johnson

"I have to do what?"
Evie stared at the slave like she was speaking in some foriegn language. "They wanted me to tell you that your job is to cook tonights meal." They knew she couldn't cook! Then again, she couldn't do much. She was the opposite of what a slave should be really. But at least she could hide the dust when cleaning, but it's hard to hide a charred chicken or a raw egg. "There has to be some other job for me. You don't understand if I-" But she didn't have time to finish. The slave in front of her handed her a small slip of paper and ran off, not even giving her time to finish what she was saying.

Sighing, Evie pushed her bangs out of her eyes, only to have a few remaining pale yellow wisps fall right back in front of her face. They were unconviniently long, and it became quite a burden to cut them by herself. She had no experience and nothing to even cut them with. Although they just barely covered her eyes it annoyed her more than one would imagine.

She looked at the paper that was handed to her and saw a few random things scrawled onto it. She read them at least three times before understanding that they were ingredients. "I don't even know what most of these are!" She looked around, desperate for some other person to look her way and help her. All she recieved though were quick glances and people looking away. It was what became of the slaves that were part of this household long enough. Most of the people that were here longer than five years became like shadows. They moved silently, and people acted as if they didn't exist. They were broken, and it scared Evie to think that she could become like that someday.

Realizing that nobody was going to even look at her anytime soon, she gave up searching for help and started to walk to the main marketplace. The farther she got, the more stares that were directed her way. It was like they had never seen a slave running an errand before! Soon she found that even she was looking at herself, making sure she hadn't been stabbed or something when she wasn't looking. Looking at her clothes she saw that they were matted with dirt and in a few places were torn. She wasn't sure when that happened but she kept looking. Her feet were slightly blistered and becoming a bit raw, but that was normal when you had to run around alot. This was her first job in a while that she would eventually get to stand still. Her hair was greasy but other than that she was fine. No blood, no disease. They had no right to stare.

Trying to ignore the increasingly noticeable looks she somehow managed to make it to the marketplace without snapping at somebody. Looking at the list again she was completely lost. How was she supposed to find this stuff? She looked around, desperate to find somebody to help. But all the people around her radiated snob and she doubted that any would assist her, or even do anything other than scoff in her direction. Somebody bumped into her causing her to almost fall and she turned around to face whoever it was, but didn't see them.

Off in the distance though she spotted something that brought dread into her heart. The east gate. Soon the Blood Oath ceremony would begin, and a few unlucky slaves would be sent out to their deaths. She had joined Angela's crew shortly after the last one, but now that it had come around she feared that it would be coming for her. She couldn't do much, at least she tried though! She knew that effort didn't matter though, and her product wasn't nearly as good as most. That was why this day was so stressful, it was too close to the picking day to make any mistakes, yet Evie was given the one job that she was completely incappable of doing.

Even if one had never heard of the Ceremony they would be able to see the added fear in most of the slaves. Many were anxious and agitated, more consumed in their tasks; praying that they would not be chosen as a Bound. That same fear would work against them, making them less attentive to their duties and possibly damaging their chances of being overlooked for the annual ritual. With tensions as high as they were, Antares could only imagine that it would feel like work was just piling up and bearing down on those who couldn't bear the pressure. It was a potential nightmare, but he'd long been adapted to the added stress despite having less to really worry about because of his standing among the slaves. He would have to be stricter; firmer with them in the hopes of keeping things orderly at a time when it mattered most. Deep in his thoughts, his hands twisted tight around the thick wooden rod that served as both a symbol and a tool: a sign of authority, and an implement of either "encouragement" or discipline. He was called back to reality by the voice of a younger slave who approached him quickly, head bowed slightly out of apprehension.

"Miss Edwards wanted you to know that she will be out buying new slaves today, and that you should make sure the house is organized," he launched right into what he had to say, not bothering to announce himself or even make sure Antares was paying attention. "And she said that you and Fletchyr need to make sure the gate is fixed." Antares sighed, that gate was becoming increasingly problematic with age.

"Has Fletchyr been notified, yet?" He asked.

The boy nodded quickly.

"Is that all, then?"

The boy chewed his bottom lip, eyes searching the heavens and the earth for anything he may have missed. "Oh! Miss Edwards also said that Evie must clean the servant dorms 'properly' this time, or else she'll be in for another lesson." Finished with what he had to relay, the boy ran off again. New slaves... Antares felt a tug in his gut at the thought. Any new slaves around this time were more than likely doomed for the slaughter. What horrid luck if they were newly acquired and not just slaves being sold back to the state to be recycled through the system all over again. Purchased only to be used as an oblation. An awful thought, to be sure. But not an important one.

He looked around quickly and, finding nothing glaringly out of order, made his way toward the front gate to see if Fletchyr had already taken care of the problem or found it needed serious renovation. That would be a true nightmare amidst the foray. As he came around the property he spotted the man. Calling out to him to catch his attention, Antares jogging the rest of the distance. "I'm assuming you've already made your assessment," he said, looking towards the gate. "How does it look?"



Hands and feet shackled, Doridex could feel the last threads of his freedom fraying as he was thrown into line. He searched out the others, the soldiers who had been taken along with him into slavery. As the last surviving commander within the ranks, it would have fallen on him to spare his brothers and sisters the shame of this empty life. He had tried, several times, to end them mercifully as was custom, but the Tarshish had found him out each time, and punished him for it with every failed attempt. They looked back, each one of them, silently bidding their farewells. There was no blame when they met his stare. And then they looked forward, holding themselves strong despite all that had happened so far, and all that was sure to come.

They had cut short the hair of the Helvenian men. For any man to cut his hair was a sign that they had abandoned their people, and their heritage. As poetic as it may have been, what with their captors cutting away the last ties they held to their people - other than the chains around their necks, which had not been removed - it only served to enrage and humiliate them all. Doridex had fought hard against them when they tried to hold him down. The blade had slipped and made a long cut just beside his eye, running down to his cheek. It had stopped bleeding some time ago, but was still red and healing. He had since stopped fighting, but there was murder in his eyes when he stared down the Tarshish guards. They could not obliterate who he was so easily.

When he was brought out onto the stage, Doridex hardened his face and stood as tall as he could. He was vermin to these people, and a failure to his own. But the truest crime would have been to let himself be broken, and he refused to give them that pleasure. Some amount of his honor remained, and he held fast to it as hard as he could. Bereaved of everything else, it was all he could do to make himself feel as if there was still a reason for him to let his life continue. If the gods had not abandoned him, as he had begun to believe, then perhaps something would come, soon. The frail hopes of a man with little left, he told himself bitterly. Foolish they may have been, but they were better than emptiness. He could show no weakness, and so he faced the gathered crowd as a soldier, and waited for his fate to be decided by the barbarians.

Fletchyr Caile

Blue eyes glazed slightly as they flicked towards the figure approaching. The male blinked slowly as he registered the question. His teeth were pressed against each other, and his lips drew back before he spoke, presenting a half grimace for a few fleet seconds. it took a few seconds to think of a proper sentence, the quickest way to deliver all the words, but he managed to alight upon one. "One of the hinge bolts broke, bottom left. The entire bolt was all twisted up. I made a wooden replacement. We will need a new one within eight days." His voice was soft a sleepy sounding, but then again, Fletchyr only had two voice settings. It was soft and sleepy or a drone voice, both of which were mildly apathetic in tone. "What am I required to do now?" He added the question a few seconds after his final statement. It was a long enough pause to make it seem hesitant, but the look on his face said otherwise. He'd worked here for about eight years, this work was a simple tedium now.

The blonde male folded his hands behind him, his eyes falling back to the ground. He didn't meet anyone's eye unless he had to. It had always been that way. It was part of the reason he didn't have any friends. it was almost disconcerting, the way that he stared at the ground so listlessly. It made one feel like he wasn't listening to them. It wasn't even that he played the, 'look just over your shoulder' game, he would literally point his nose at the ground, hands behind his back and his stance slightly spread.

On the bright side, Fletchyr didn't care much to have friends. Because when things change, friends might become lost. And if friends are lost then quite a bit of pain entails. Mourning. And he had a job to do, he didn't need to complicate anything by becoming involved with anything except for what he had to do. Or at least, that was his justification for closing himself off to everyone.

It had been the same way at the circus. for a year or so he'd pretended to smile and get along with everyone else, but it didn't work like he'd expected it too. he didn't become as happy and carefree as they were. So, he asked himself, what was the point of begin something he wasn't if it wasn't bringing him closer to his goal? he closed himself off slowly, pulling away from the group. They didn't seem to notice. Fletchyr didn't mind. He still didn't mind. He had almost always been viewed as something akin to a light fixture, a door, carpeting, something that one sees everyday but never really thinks about until it needs to be replaced. Like the gate. And little things could be done to it to prolong its life, but it was going to die eventually. It would reach the point in which it would be more of a bother to fix it than to just replace it with a new one that worked ten times better than the old. Fletchyr didn't know when he'd reach that point of his life, but it was his single goal that it wouldn't be soon. Simple because he had nothing else to live for.

Fletchyr's back stiffened suddenly, a movement that was common for him. The rest of his muscles followed suit. it felt like someone was staring at him. His pupils shrank slightly and his head lifted from its downward position so he could shoot a glance behind him. No one. He couldn't see anyone. He looked for a couple more seconds, but still no one. As the flare of adrenaline calmed, the blonde remembered that he was still talking to Antares. Well, awaiting Antares' answer. He tried not to have these type of paranoid fits in front of the other servants, for a variety of reasons he was not willing to disclose. He couldn't help it sometimes, the feeling of being watched just attacked him sometimes. Especially when he began to think about his circus days. Those days were the reason for his paranoia anyway, the audiences, the stress, and the vague memories of a time before the circus.

Shaking his head almost imperceptibly, Fletchyr set himself back into proper order, his head dipping down again. The whole episode had lasted for a little over ten seconds. Ten seconds too long in Fletchyr's opinion.

Iggy blinked once more, finishing off her silent mourning fairly quickly. She had work to do, and to do it well. For the last week she had been doing her best to ignore the whole Bound sacrifice and what not, but she should never ignore something like that. But hey, if she was chosen, she could probably hide off somewhere and die, maybe even escape.... The small girl shook her head before freezing; she could hear voices in the distance. Was Miss Angela back already? No, no. It's just the other servants.... She sighed ever so lightly, wiped her cheeks and forehead and turned, squinting to see if she could discern the figures. They were both fairly tall, both boys. Iggy bit her lower lip softly, her eyes remaining on the somewhat silhouetted form of the blonde-headed one. And she could only tell the hair color because it was somewhat clear in the sunlight.

However her three second daze was broken as he seemed to turn his head and look back, thus causing her to put her hand over her eyes and the small peach blush which was probably mostly sunburn to increase slightly. Iggy then returned to her work furiously, finishing up the tilling of the soil before pushing up from her crouching position and brushing off the dirt from her hands and moving carefully along to the growing patches. Cautiously she poked the bucket that stood against a small fence, and then tensed a bit as she realized it had no water in it. A tiny and shaky sigh escaped her lips before she closed her fist around the wiring, picking up the bucket and carrying it to the pump.

The small girl let the bucket drop onto the ground underneath the spout and shuffled carefully over to the mechanism to draw the water out. She struggled to push it up, and had to put all her strength into getting it to go back down, almost climbing on top of it. It was fairly rusted, but the water came out nonetheless. Iggy didn't dare push it again, lest she get in trouble for wasting water. She could make due with what she had. Just as cautiously she picked up the bucket and waddled back over to the greenery with it, crouching down with her knees and cupping her hands in the water, holding it up and allowing it to slip through her fingers and sprinkle down upon the plants.

After finishing with this, she went to the flower pots in front of the house.



Mark grumbled silently to himself, hopping a bit on his left side to prop the doe up more comfortably, walking through the gates nonchalantly. He could feel the blade of his dagger bumping against his shoulder-blade, and remembered it had to be sharpened. "Might as well get it professionally sharpened. I've got plenty o' time." His voice was low and quiet, keeping the noise mostly to himself as he walked along the cobblestones towards the market.

As he walked, he fumbled around with the strings of his satchel before he wrested his knife free, keeping one strong hand around the legs of the doe while tossing the weapon a bit into the air while he walked. Life is so pointless.... He rolled his eyes, watching the dark metal catch the glinting sunlight and gleam. He stretched his legs a bit more, yawning morosely.

Walking up to the vendors, he handed the knife to one of the shopkeepers, as well as a tiny pouch of gold he always carried with him. Where did he acquire such things, what with being a slave? Well, let's just say he didn't give all the meat to Miss Edwards. "Better make it pretty." He smirked at the shop keeper, his eyes cruel and calculated, assessing the man threateningly but laid back. Snobby little wretches. He shrugged lightly, carrying the kill throughout the market while getting a lot of stares from people wandering by.

He froze though, spotting one of the other slaves of his household looking ever so lost. Like a little kid. He huffed through his nose, rolling his eyes and pushing his way through the crowds over to her. Markelx reached out his hand, snatching the paper out of her hand, quickly scanning over it. "Geeze, what's the matter with you, girl? Can't even read such simple things?" He glared at her fleetingly before looking over the food items once more. He shifted the carcass, wrinkling his nose at the girl. "Come on then; but don't expect me to save your sorry ass next time." He snorted indifferently, glancing back at her out of the corner of his eyes.

Evie looked up in suprise when a hand suddenly snatched the paper that might as well of been her death sentence then said, "Geeze, what's the matter with you, girl? Can't even read such simple things? Come on then; but don't expect me to save your sorry ass next time" At first she didn't quite understand what just happened, since it was all so sudden. But when he finished speaking, her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? I can read quite fine. I just have no idea what those ingredients are. I'm not the best at cooking so I'm having trouble finding whatever these things are." She almost snatched the rumpled paper back but she actually did need his help, although she was not going to come out and say it though, because her pride refused to let her. Well it's a good thing he showed up though.

Looking around she sighed and whispered under her own breath, "Thanks." She would of felt bad later if she hadn't said it, but she honestly felt as though this boy, although a slave, was pretty arrogant. She had a feeling she wasn't going to get along with him, even if he was giving her a chance to get this job right. She still dreaded the fact she was going to have to cook the ingredients once she got them, but that was a later time and she would worry about it later.

She had the strangest feeling that she had seen this boy before though. Did he work around the household like her? If so, how did he look so clean? She spotted a silver glint at his side and saw a dagger. Slaves don't have those things, even higher ranked ones. "How did you get that?" She asked, pointing at the dagger hanging by his side. She hardly noticed the game he had with him. After all hunting was work, even though it was uncommon work. She didn't know all the jobs people had to do.

She'd just finished ordering the two other slaves, though one of them looking ready to collapse; now she just needed her third.
One of the Helvanian's was brought out. Miss Edwards eyes immediately hardened in dislike. The male's arrogant stature was making him fairly unpopular with the Tarshan crowds; who wanted a slave that would quite possibly refuse to work?
No one wanted to start the bid at the price the slave master had suggested. He was getting a little desperate, Angela could tell, as he tried to give more information. Finding himself lacking more flattering descriptions, the man started to describe what they could already see. After hearing his name and his age for around the third time, Angela rolled her eyes.
"I'll give you twenty quins, no more"
There was a temporary silence, everyone turning her way. She glared at them crossly.
"Well someone needs to get rid of him." she said sharply, glancing back up at the slave master. He gave a slight nod, and the sold sign was placed over the man, Doridex's, head.
After she had cuffed him, she turned to all three of them. Studying each in turn. They were an odd bunch to be sure, may the gods be pleased she was getting rid of them.
"Follow me quickly and quietly." She instructed harshly before leading them out of the stuffy market place. When they finally reached her house, Angela spotted Fletchyr and Antares near the gate. She allowed herself a small smile. It seems they were on top of things, that was the reason they would live, not that they were entirely certain of that yet. She strode up the front path, glancing back at the slaves to gauge their reaction to her massive complex of a house, before turning to Antares.
"I'll need you to leave the gate for now, that can be fixed later" she said quickly "These three need to be taken to the servants quarters. All need to have bathed and dressed properly…" she paused slightly "And depending on how desperately you think they need it, fed."
Antares was responsible enough to gather what she meant. If they looked ready to collapse, then they could have half a piece of the stale bread kept in the cellar.
"After that, I want them put to work. Explain the rules you think necessary, familiarise yourself with their names and figure out what they do best. They also aren't supposed to have possessions, as you well know...I think the Syri girl has a necklace that needs removing. As for the work that's needs doing...The dining room needs to be cleaned again, the marble floor scrubbed and the windows re-cleaned and also the feast for tomorrow night prepared...Marklex should be back with the meat before long."
She paused again, thinking of what else needed to be done.
"Oh and Fletchyr, the fireplace needs to be prepared for the branding tomorrow night. Get Callie to fetch the brands from my room and yourself to get the wood organised"
The fire would need to be lit in the Bound room, located under the cellar. The room was more like a sparse cell. Angela also used it for those that needed discipline. The brands themselves were kept in a large box at the foot of her bed. Angela didn't trust most servants near her bedroom, however Callie had shown her loyalty. The brands were long metal rods, with a cursive "X" at the bottom, also made of metal.
Pleased that everything seemed to be organised, Angela was about to go back into the house when she spotted Iggy in the garden.
Her face hardened.
"Iggy, you better have your spare dress perfectly clean to change into." she said the ice clear in her voice "It's lucky I don't have time to bother about you right now...I will later. Your to go help Antares orientate the newer slaves. When he's ready, you can show the female washrooms to the girls, is that clear?"
She didn't bother waiting for a reply, before heading into the house, pleased to see it looking clean and perfect as she wanted it.




Arya glanced at the two that were also new to slavery. The male seemed strong and intimidating, with a rugged, unkempt look about him. Doridex, they had said, and Arya assumed he had come from the south as she had heard tales of wild tribesman that roamed the unnamed land below Tarsha and Syra. She looked over at the girl, and couldn't help but stare at her long, golden hair. She'd heard of people that had it of course; but she herself had never seen it before. It was exotic and beautiful to Arya, though she kept her face blank, hiding her true feelings. No doubt her deep, green eyes gave her away though. The saying eyes were a window to your soul seemed true in Arya's case, as her eyes always showed her emotion without fail.
It was so hot in Tarsha, but also strangely pleasant to not have your face frozen all the time as in Syra. Arya bit her lip, trying to focus on walking rather than the situation at hand. Her mistress continued to walk, twisting in and out of the market place, confusing Arya on their route until they turned into a rather broad lane. Evidently this was one of the richer parts of the city. Arya couldn't help but stare as they turned to a huge structure. She managed to keep herself from gaping, though only just.
She'd only heard of fixed living space, her people preferring tents you could move into other, better suited areas. Here all the structures were fixed, but this was massive. She quickly turned her eyes away as her mistress started speaking to two men. Both were evidently servants too, from the silver cuffs, but Miss Edwards seemed to have less of a harsh tone with them than she had with her newer ones.
There was a commanding, leader like quality from one. He had similar features to those of the Syri, with dark black hair and even soft green/hazel eyes, though his skin was far too dark for that to be possible. Arya observed him silence, finding herself a little intimidated by him, no doubt her eyes showing her fear of both her mistress, the other slave and the new situation.
The other male, next to him had blonde hair like the female, Soren. Both had bright blue eyes, though this wasn't overly common in Syra, it certainly wasn't unheard of. The male had a bit of a distracted air about him, but also appeared rather cold and distant.
Miss Edwards instructed the first male to take herself and the two others to the servants quarters. At the mention of food her stomach tightened and Arya desperately wished the man would agree they needed it. That was when the necklace was mentioned. Arya visibly stiffened, her fingers unconsciously brushing against the whittled wooden beads. Her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday, she'd only had it for three months, and now it appeared they had to take one more thing from her life. It seemed she wouldn't have a choice, so she'd deal with it. Her mother wouldn't want her beaten for it. Even so the tears automatically pricked her eyes though she desperately blinked them away…
She tried not to think of the other items tied carefully to the inside of her dress. Those she wouldn't be giving up. Beside, Miss Edwards hadn't mentioned them, so hopefully they would go unnoticed. She glanced back at the male, praying he wouldn't notice the others...she didn’t' like to lie, but if he asked she would have no choice. To Arya, they were worth more than her life, they couldn't have them.
After giving a few other instructions the Miss Edwards appeared to leave before catching sight of a small figure near the garden.
The ice in Miss Edwards voice made Arya flinch slightly. The small girl was also ordered to "orientate" them. Arya was secretly pleased. She felt a lot more comfortable with the younger, pretty female than the male in front of her.
After Miss Edwards had left, she turned back to the male, waiting for instruction.
She didn't dare open her mouth, lest she be punished as they'd assured her on the ship she would be.
She silently begged that there would be food before she was forced to work. Work. The word gave her a sinking feeling. This was now going to be her life, to work everyday for a mistress she already mistrusted and disliked...those opinions were going to be carefully guarded and mentioned only to herself.

Fletchyr Caile

Before the other could respond to his inquiry, another answered it. His body, which was already straight, visibly straightened more as he heard another approach, Miss Edwards. She spoke to Antares first, so Fletchyr took the opportunity to gauge the threat level of the other three people. New slaves, from the looks of their wrist band, identical to the one around the wrist of virtually every living body in the house. The man, rugged and defiant looking, made the corners of Fletchyr's mouth twitch downwards slightly. He would keep an eye on that one, he didn't trust him at all. He looked like the type the Lady would merely send out to die, but from the look on his face he was going to put up a good fight. Well, that was one space open for the bound positions. Fletchyr, while those such going ons made him slightly twitchy, harbored a mild apathy towards them. He wasn't one to fret over them, especially since he'd never participated in one of the 'games' before, and he assumed that he wasn't going to in his lifetime. Hopefully. Even taking part as one of the 'Hunters' was dangerous, it was easy to get oneself killed. Too easy.

The two females were not threatening at all. The blonde girl looked fragile as a bird, and the other girl seemed only in slightly better condition. It was very likely that they would be 'Bound' as well, he decided. Which would leave one spot open, if the Lady saw it fit to completely fill the quota, which she usually did. Fletchyr didn't have anything to worry about, he decided. Luckily, that didn't stop him from doing his job properly.

Finished with his silent examination of the three, his gaze returned to the ground. Miss Edwards had finished speaking to Antares. He'd payed rapt attention to what she was saying, all the work that would need to be done, and he was musing vaguely about which ones he'd pounce on before anyone else could get to them, when the Lady spoke his name. His chin lifted up slightly, to show that he was listening, but his eyes didn't leave the ground again. He bowed wordlessly in deference, his new objectives in his mind. he started off shortly after the Lady was out of sight, leaving the new slaves with Antares.

He'd find Callie first, utter the three word imperative, "Fetch the brands." and not waste any other words. Then he'd collect enough wood, and bring it down to the 'cellar' beneath the true cellar and set it up in the box, where it would stay dry until the next night. Then he would clean all the soot out of the fireplace until it was completely clean, even the slight gaps between each brick were free of the black substance. He sought out the tinderbox and left that on top of the wood box so it would be found easily. He'd come back and start the fire later, after the sun set, so it could grow hot enough without wasting too much wood. Until then, he needed something to occupy himself with.

The blonde found himself a bucket and set to scrubbing the floor, one of the more undesirable jobs. But it needed to be done, and Fletchyr wasn't one to ignore a job that needed doing. And it was a lengthy job, so it would eat up plenty of time. It was better than having to show the new 'servants' to their quarters, or cooking, because it required no thoughts. Just a couple hours worth of intensive work, which Fletchyr could do with his hands tied behind his back. Well, not really behind his back, per say, but you get the idea. He pushed his sleeves back up over his forearms again so they wouldn't become dirty, but there really was no helping his pants, if they so chose to get wet. he'd just have to change into the single other pair he had, which was no trouble, really. They were clean, at least.

Iggy froze immediately, straightening up and folding her hands nervously together as her Mistress spoke to her. She kept her gaze down on the ground, the small silver band around her arm glinting harmlessly in the sunlight. "Yes Miss A-Edwards." She played off the mistake of mixing off the first and last name by shifting the vowels quickly, causing it to seem like her accent was flaring up just a bit. She made a small curtsy as she walked off and then sighed, slumping down and looking at her dress with a frown. Momentarily, her gaze turned to watch Fletchyr leave to go inside, and mentally shrugged. She then turned her gaze cautiously to the new slaves, her eyes timid and fleeting, much like a deer's would be.

The small girl fiddled with the band, looking up to Antares and waiting for his signal. It would be foolhardy to go and change now while she was just given a job that should be completed soon after it was given. She let out a quiet, shaky breath and turn back to the windows, finishing off the rest of the water on the plants before returning to the small group.





Mark rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure~" He smirked passively, walking through the crowds to get to the stalls which had stock of the things listed on the parchment. "You're a pretty horrible sounding cook if you don't even know what these simple ingredients are." He eyed her with hard eyes, shoving one hand in his pocket while supporting the carcass with his other. He shifted a bit to cause the weight distribution to be a bit more comfortable, and then stopped at the first stall, pointing to a couple of things. "Most of the ingredients are pretty self explanatory by any means. You can pretty much relate them to the shape they sound closest to."

Once more he rolled his eyes, taking the dagger out and tossing it once more. "This thing? I borrowed it and shined it up. Much better than the foam crap Miss 'Edwards' gives to her hunters. Why? You nervous 'bout it?" He said so flatly, yet one could tell he was teasing without much effort. "Anyway, I'm sure you're in the household as well, considering the bracelet's design." He tapped his engraving with the dagger, the two metals clinking from impact on each other. "You must be pretty screwed if Miss Edwards sent you out to get these ingredients and cook with them, what with your nervous air and being so lost. It shows you don't know much, and you're probably going to end up bound." He chuckled darkly at her then rolled his eyes. "Heck, I have no idea, I'm just pulling your leg a bit. But you better hope that you and I don't get stuck as enemies." That cruel smile lit up his features eerily before he chuckled once more.

"I hope Miss Edwards gave you the money to buy this stuff. If not...." He trailed off then grinned. "We'll have to tell them to put it on her tab." He waved to the man carelessly, moving on to the next stall and leaving the girl to pick up the stuff and carry it herself.

Evie did not like this guy, whoever he was. When he mentioned her probably being a horrible cook she didn't say anything because she really couldn't argue with him. She really did suck at cooking. "Most of the ingredients are pretty self explanatory by any means. You can pretty much relate them to the shape they sound closest to." He was helping her though...which made it really hard to be rude to him. The shape is the sound it was closest to? Well she certainly would have never figured that out.

When he rolled his eyes at her and said how he got the knife though she felt a pang of envy. He could borrow stuff from Miss Edwards. Either that or he stole it, which she would still be jealous about. She had never even tried to steal in her life, and she figured that plenty of slaves had. "Why? You nervous 'bout it? She smiled a bit at that remark, although she wasn't quite sure why it was funny. Maybe it was that she had no reason to be scared of it. It's not like he could just stab her in the middle of the market. Though it would be interesting to see who would try to help. Nobody most likely.

When he mentioned the household, she confirmed that she had seen him before. She had to keep from saying outloud, 'You're a slave? When I saw you I always thought you were some rich kid.' She knew he would probably understand what she meant. She felt a massive wave a pressure taken off of her as she relaxed a bit. So she did know him, and maybe he could help her sometimes. Like tonight for an example. That was, at least, what she thought until the next words that came out of his mouth.

"You must be pretty screwed if Miss Edwards sent you out to get these ingredients and cook with them, what with your nervous air and being so lost. It shows you don't know much, and you're probably going to end up bound. Heck, I have no idea, I'm just pulling your leg a bit. But you better hope that you and I don't get stuck as enemies." Suddenly that knife looked a lot less harmless. She didn't want it to show that she knew he was probably telling the trith about her being bound, or even that they would most likely be enemies. So instead she said, "Why should I hope that? I really don't think you would be the worst of my problems." She meant it in a sort of 'I'm my own problem' sort of way, but she was sure that it came out as a 'You don't seem that good at hunting' kind of tone. But maybe she was just overthinking everything. She did tend to do that when freaked out, whih meant she had been overthinking for the last month.

When he said something about the money, she realized that she had even thought about how she was to pay for the stuff. Good thing Miss Edwards had a tab. The boy waved at the person at the cart and left the ingredients, so Evie picked them all up and caught up with him, easily making sure none of the stuff fell.