A gift of you. [Closed]

[Dazen Gyre]

The mention of water had a meaning that was beyond Dazen, but the mere mention of that word made his carefully crafted visage crack. He did his best not to let it show, not to let the nervous gulp seem so apparent as he casually scratched his chin at the appropriate time, nor did he let the pleasing smile and gaze to Izdihar break as that word was mentioned. Perhaps as even more torture for the young Svefra they'd make him a pool boy, someone always around water but none of it natural. A talking, walking towel rack. The tease of a smile and humour from the woman that would control his life was one that Dazen didn't particularly appreciate, and he covered this distaste with his own smile; from the tip of his cleft chin to the expected tug of lines over his brow, the smile appeared as genuine as any smile could be. He gave a light nod of his head to her statement, uncertain of how to proceed with further discussing anything with this woman. "It's a pity," Dazen said softly as he took a cautious step up to the woman. His arm reached out as the back of his fingers almost touched the soft sides of Izdihar's cheeks - not physically touching her, but damn close - as Dazen's lips parted with a soft sigh. His eyes broke contact with those before him as they looked at the soft curves of her face, and those delicate dimples that he made the impression of wanting to touch, but never touching. If anything, the soft hairs that remained on the backs of his finger tips would have lightly brushed against her delicate flesh, but upon that recognition of contact Dazen suddenly and abruptly pulled away. A sly grin spread across his face, flashing those perfect and newly-cleaned white teeth to Izdihar while his hands went behind his back, one hand gripping the wrist of the other arm. "It's a pity that something so beauty came from the desert and not the sea." His eyes looked over to Izdihar's for a moment before bashfully looking away. "I never thought there could be such beauty in the dry, barren desert, but you standing before someone as lowly as myself proves that assumption wrong." The next question wasn't asked to show any sort of rebelliousness or ignorance to his position, but was more of a curious probe. Dazen wanted some foreknowledge of what would be expected of him, other than being prim and proper to look more like a decorate shell than someone that was used to a hard life on the seas. "What does this beauty require... of me? There are many things I can do," His blue eyes looking back to Izdihar as the hand around his wrist gripped it harder, causing the muscles along his arm to ripple and flex, "But I need direction for my services."

[Izdihar]

Izdihar’s regard remained steady as the monuments of a dead era half buried in the sands. Pale color blossomed in gilded cheeks beneath that almost touch of Dazen’s, but she was unmoving. It was not with a stiffness, however, but a relaxed patience as if she were waiting to see what he might do next, and more importantly, how he would do it. Stillness such as this was uncommon in young girls. It spoke of a steadiness in the ever evolving world typically only age and wisdom allotted. The certainty of her position in life, in her placement on the war board of both the gods and Ahnatep could be either reassuring or terrifying. It was dependent entirely on point of view and, further, endlessly questionable in its veracity. “You will find the desert can be as cyclical as the tides, Dazen,” she murmured. “It will transition through innumerable moods and leave the face of the one before in broken pieces littering the shore. Discount nothing out of hand.” Please suffused her smile once more, genuine as the lazy breeze flapping at the window hangings. It was for Ifran’s thoughtfulness, Ifran’s cleverness. “First you will learn Arumenic,” she stated. “Do you read and write? And in what languages?” Without warning, a furry little sand kitten pounced on Aru’s foot.

[Ifran]

Dazen's audacity might have earned him pain, but his discipline was Izdihar's to administer, though of course he would do so at her request. Whatever Dazen's situation, he could rise far in this woman's service. That Ifran was courting her from afar spoke to her merits, and any with eyes to see could wax poetic about her beauty. She would go far, this one, or lose her head by rising above herself too publicly, too fast. He himself might have spoken of the blooming desert, how on occasion a torrential rain or flooding of the river would overturn the sere soil, watering the various and sundry seeds that floated in on the four winds or were buried in the soil of birds and animals, and the profusion of multicolored blossoms that followed, the carpet of color upon the hard wastes of Eyktol. But then the sand cat struck. That he merely looked down and observed the lanky, big-pawed hunter gnawing on his ankle most likely meant that he was communing with his goddess, severing himself from his emotions to observe Izdihar in her interactions with this slave, this gift, this pet. The four-armed logician knelt to pet the kitten, who was now a gawky adolescent. "Hello, little brother," he said in Arumenic, the which she wanted Dazen to learn.

[Dazen Gyre]

Dazen ignored the question for the moment as he looked to his side to the man that brought him there. While he wasn't the most cruel person that Dazen had met on his way to Ahnatep, he was certainly memorable. He turned his attention back to the woman that now controlled his - life, soul, food -- his everything - and gave her a curt smile. He was proud of the fact that he wasn't just a dumb slave and it showed in the way that his posture changed as he stood up proud, tall, and confident of his abilities. "I can read and write in Common and Fratava," Dazen replied proudly, though he wondered why exactly this woman was concerned with what he could do. If he was a slave - and his understanding of slavery was limited to what he experienced and heard about at sea - was that he should be doing some grunt work. That instead of being dressed up like a little girl's toy, that he should be put in the most demeaning and labour intensive job available. Yet here was he was asking something so simple and ... normal. He wasn't sure what motives were behind it, and he tried not to worry about it. If Dazen could exude a confident smile, hopefully his thoughts would catch up with that feigned feeling. He heard the man to his side speak in that odd language again as he looked down to the cat. Something so simple, yet an animal that didn't survive well at sea. Dazen's tavan had always functioned as a good enough "pet"; would he have to find and bond with some legged and furry creature now that he was away from the sea? He grimaced at the thought.

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! I love this thread and only wish it was longer. I hope to see more from the lot of you. A special thanks to Ifran for moderating. Izdihar's Loot Rhetoric 2 XP Intelligence 1 XP Seduction 1 XP Lore of Aru of the NW Lore of Svefra racial traits Dazen's Loot Observation 1 XP Acting 2 XP Seduction 1 XP Lore of Eypharian Slave Culture Lore of the sounds of Arumenic Colombina is pleased.