Open [The Slave Market] Misery & Profit

[Baran]

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1st Winter, 517 AV
"Speech"
Winter had come with a finality that spoke volumes. Baran could do nothing as restless nights crept into anguished days spent trying to survive, trying to keep ahold of his tenuous position in the city. Why had it happened? How could he have allowed himself to slip into this nightmare? The musician only knew that his job had not worked out, that his money had drained away as fast as sin, that haunting dreams plagued his nights and left his brain muddled and confused.

But never had he expected to be here.

"Hey, wake up fool. Market's opening. You want an owner or not?" The dulcet tones of the slaver fell on unhearing ears, but Baran blearily rubbed his eyes and stood nonetheless. Around him, slaves, merchants and slavers all milled and bustled. Some were already shouting about their newest find, he's a good sailor, she's a good slut. Others furiously scrubbed up their goods whilst the 'goods' stood by staring with a kind of detached look. To Baran, the sight was one of horror. A dull horror, now.

He stretched, cat-like, and yawned silently. He stood wearing his usual attire. But of the rest of his belongings there was no trace. That was what stung him the most, during the times he had to think at night in the simple pens that the unsold slaves were kept in. He cared little for clothes or equipment,
even his pony would presumably be killed or sold and that didn't bother him. But his gamba... How his fingers itched to play and soar across those strings. Now he could no more, for what do slaves know of freedom?

Several bells passed in the market, in which Baran simply stood and gazed about him without interest. His soul ached to be free, but of course that was common to all slaves. How could he be free when his hands were chained and guards stood on every corner? So he endured the pokes and prods of the prospective owners, teeth gritted to prevent him speaking out of turn. He had learnt that lesson pretty quickly, all things considered.

"Hark! Skilled male player and singer. Handy for a range o' tasks! You interested, Maam? Sir?"

OOC :

Hi! To all who are interested in buying,
please check out the Slave pricing in the Slave Market and the Slave lore page, then if you'd like and can afford it, Baran's all yours!

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[Maya Lark]

Maya growled some hearing her brother start screaming at her. Sighing the raven haired beauty was not in the mood to be running around the market with her father and mother. They were insisting that the girl get her own slave to help impress her uncle Vernon. Rubbing her eyes the girl sat up and looked out of the window. She had a lot to do that day so she got up and went to get cleaned up. After a good bath, the woman dried off and began her morning routine of drying her hair, getting dress, and putting on makeup. Opening the door to her room, the black haired woman walked downstairs. She was actually earlier than normal. The girl was often running late for whatever her day held, but thanks to her “loving” brother she was on time.

“Morning,” Maya said grabbing some meat off her brother's plate.

She ignored the man as he started to growl and yell at the girl. Flipping him the finger, the woman walked into the kitchen. Putting the meat in her mouth, the girl popped her neck and leaned back putting pressure on her lower back to make it pop. Grabbing a glass of water, she snagged an apple and bit into it. Returning to the dining room, the girl sat down across from Xander and continued to eat while listening to her parents talk. Jiya seemed to be giving Dimitri some kind of legal advice.

“So are you ready to go to the slave market?” Dimitri asked and glanced over at his daughter.

“No, but I understand the importance of it,” Maya stated looking at him making her displeasure in the whole process known.

“Displeased or not it doesn't matter. Clean up and let's get a move on,” Jiya explained in a tone that clearly ended the conversation.

Rolling her eyes, the young heiress finished off her drink before putting the glass away. She continued to eat the apple as they got in a ravosala. Getting comfortable, the girl watched the city roll past the boat as it slowly made its way to the slave market. The familiar sounds caught the girl's ears causing her to turn and look. Dimitri got out first before helping her mother out and heading inside. Maya climbed out and walked in looking around at everyone that was for sale. With a lazy look in her eyes the girl slipped away from her parents as they browsed most likely to buy another “pet” for themselves. The announcement of a male that could play an instrument caught her attention.

Heading in that direction the woman soon saw the man. Walking straight up to him, she circled him looking at his physique. Taking his chin in her hand, the girl turned his face in each direction. The dark haired woman looked when the operator walked over to them. Letting the male go, she turned to face him. He instantly recognized the woman and bowed his head to her some.

“Hello, Miss Lark. I see you have chosen a fine male to look at. He is in good shape physically and is quite the musician from what I have heard,” he said with a smirk.

“I see. He does appear in good shape indeed. I am going to look around some more and will return with my parents later on,” Maya stated looking at Baran again, “before I go tell me your name slave.”

[Baran]

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"Speech"
Instinctively, he flinched at her soft touch, but then shame and defiance troubled across his brow and he stared fiercely into the woman's eyes. A woman's touch would normally be more pleasant, but in this setting Baran was a fish out of water and felt nothing but the strongest desire to hold still and let this stranger know he was not a slave. Not at heart.

Whilst she spoke to the slaver, he studied her minutely. This woman had curly, luscious brown hair whose faint scent still clung to the air. It glinted softly in the sun that streamed down into the market. It bathed her clear, lightly tanned skin and in any other circumstance he would have found himself admiring her for her beauty. But those eyes had felt wrong somehow, in their blueness. Mayhap it was the way she, like everyone else but it was she whose look cut the most, looked at him like an object to be brought and sold. It would be a long while before Baran would ever fully become a slave in his own mind.

As Baran was standing close by, it was easy to listen to their short conversation, but found only the surname of the stranger to be of any use. Miss Lark. It was, oddly, a name that sounded vaguely familiar but he didn't know why. Instead, as she turned to ask his name, he rumbled into sound and quietly mused on the girl's name.

"I am not...-" Petch. 'I am not a slave'... That's a false statement now. "My name is Baran Veredith. What is yours, pretty lady Lark?" He offered a slight smile, one devoid of any real happiness. There was little reason to be happy. At least this woman, if she did.. buy him.. seemed nice however. Decent, even. He hoped he wasn't fooling himself as he looked into her icy blue eyes.

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[Prophet]

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Auctioneers roamed the Slave Market without any real uniform or distinguishing characteristics with the possible exceptions of a hawk-like stare and a heavy coin purse. A younger man of the bunch was nearby when the attractive Lark strolled in and so he slipped and slunk along the shadows in a very clever way which kept him off her radar but near enough to hear her conversations. His hands held fast to a thin piece of steel wrapped in leather. It was a like a flapjack but longer and skinnier. When the musician spoke out of turn and revealed that he was not a slave, the sinister curl of a grin born of malice touched the young man’s lips. Without a sound, he posted through the few folk between he and the dark-eyed hunk of meat. Before the Lark or the man could utter a sound, the leather-bound weapon came down at a nearly horizontal angle against the back of Baran’s thighs with a THWACK! should the body stand, the blow would be repeated until the slave knelt on his knees or all fours.

“Don’t speak, boy!” The weapon of oppression was laid against his cheek with just a fair amount of pressure on the tip. The cold eyes of the auctioneer looked to the potential buyer. “If you have questions, you ask one of the staff and we’ll fetch your answer for you, miss.” He was clearly not impressed by her bearing or her family name but his tone was one of respect. “It’s our job to deal with them until they’re sold.” He was right, of course. There was a moment where he lingered before righting himself and waiting to see if she had more inqueries.

[Maya Lark]

Blue eyes watched the man before her as he tried to deny being a slave, but it was very clear he had no say in the matter. He seemed to slowly be coming to terms with that knowledge. Looking over him, the woman did not hide her interest in him in the least. Moving around the man once more, the girl stood behind him and pushed on different parts of his back. She planned on figuring out how much the man could do besides play an instrument. Standing before him once more, the female did not flinch when the enforcer came out from the shadows. Icy blue eyes jerked up to him and narrowed some at him.

“I was looking to buy him, but if he can't take a hit then maybe he's not the one,” Maya stated before staring the man with the club down, “or maybe its your treatment of the slave thats put a sour taste in my mouth.”

The girl turned and walked with flipping her hair out of her face. Her boots clicked, as she looked at several other male slaves and several females trying to decide who to get. She knew her mother and father would not allow her to leave without one. Popping her neck, the trio said they would return after getting something to eat and discussing what all was seen. Maya got in the ravosala first and situated then her mother and father followed.

“So did you see any prospects?” Jiya asked looking at her daughter.

“Yes, ma'am. A young male musician named Baran,” Maya stated holding her mother's gaze.

“I feel like there is a butt in there somewhere,” Dimitri said in his deep baritone voice.

“No, buts. He is very fit seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Still in denial about being a slave, but that is to be expected,” Maya explained.