[Flashback] Midnight Blessing

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Winter 508AV

Disclaimer: This thread will incorporate adult elements. I do not write this warning lightly. I only write this to warn any readers and to tell you to use YOUR OWN judgment on if you want to continue or not. A good place for me to start is by saying 18+ only.

Winter was always punishing on those that they kept in the outside cages. Seven was one of them; they had just finished up with him and threw him back into the cage to wake up…or maybe he wouldn’t; but it was all part of the game they played. All part of the testing that they did. And to tell the truth sometimes the antidotes were worse than the poisons themselves. But the antidote had to be given time to work; to rush through the bloodstream. But they had a new woman among the group, coming in on another caravan. Sometimes the slaves were kept here before going into Ravok. The reason for this was simple, exclusivity.

Certain clients wanted to feel they were being given exclusive rites to but these slaves. And to accommodate this certain types of slaves were kept here for a week or two while word was filtered out to possible buyers. And a Konti slave…well she fit this profile quite well. She would be part of their more exclusive stock. She would sell for a very high price if they could find the right buyer. She was being brought to them now. They would hold her for a few days, because that would be all it took to find a buyer for a woman like her.

As she was brought to the main sorting area; she would see the cages all over. Some of the cages had tarps over them and some of them did not. But almost all of them had at the very least two if not more people in them huddled together for warmth beneath some wool blankets. She could likely feel the despair and hopelessness that was in the air. This hopelessness was almost palatable, you could see it in the eyes of those that were caged like animals. They watched her and felt a sense of despair as they brought in another woman… But, she would sell fast so she would likely not know the same torture that they knew. But that might not be totally true depending on where and who she was sold to.


The men carried her over to a cage and just simply opened it and forced her in. Then secured the wrought iron chains back on the cage door and locked it with a heavy steel lock. Without much of a thought they then simply walked away. It was cold…Almost unbearably cold. But at the very least the woman was still clothed fully. As she moved around she would feel her foot nudge something fleshy in the cage. It felt…living. But it didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound at all.

It was a man, what appeared to be a man. Crumbled up against the bars like he had been thrown there roughly and just left. His back was against the bars and he was facing inward toward her. His eyes were closed and the occasional warm cloud coming from his mouth told her that he was breathing…but his breaths were pained and shallow. He was hardly covered with a tattered short sleeve short and pants that seemed to be made of rough potato sacks. He was shivering…and wet from the falling snow melting on his body. However he seemed completely unconscious.

A closer inspection would reveal deep bruising all over his body as well as intensive scarring and some newer slashes that had just begun to scab over. He looked terrible, and likely felt just as bad as he looked…if not worse. Was this what she was destined for now? Was she going to be tortured just like this man? Taken from Mura and now to be another man’s plaything? Likely the seriousness of her current situation would be setting in right now. The chilling unyielding wind blew threw her flesh. It was going to be a icy night.

[Lynnea Timandre]

She awoke, screaming. Lynnea screamed for a minute with all the pain, all the sorrow and and all the loss she had oh-so-recently suffered before one of the men managed to silence her. The scream died in Lynnea's throat with a sick gurgle. "Quiet, bitch!" he hissed. She did as the man asked, and lay on the hard wooden floor of the caravan with naught a word nor a move. The man settled back into his seat, the dagger pressing against her throat disappearing as soon as it came. Her vision began to fade again, just at it had when they had dragged her from the waves. She managed one though before she blacked out completely; I'm in hell. The next time she awoke, the caravan was stopped. The man who had pressed the knife to her throat was dragging her out of it. It was dark outside of the caravan, nighttime. In her state, she couldn't make out any details about where she was, or why. Not that she particularly cared anymore... "Walk." For reasons even Lynnea didn't know, that single command managed to compel her into action. Maybe it was simply because she finally had something to do, something to distract herself from her awful fate. In any case, the konti stirred, and she began to walk. The slavers led her into some sort of sorting area. Even she could make out the cages that lined her on all sides. Some were covered and some were not; and what was in them, Lynnea didn't know. When she felt herself being forced into one, however, she suddenly realized what it was. Her breath caught as she fell to her knees, a sob struggling to overcome her. But Lynnea forced it down. She couldn't cry. She couldn't give in. If she did, then those men would win. Her foot spasmed, nudged something fleshy. She suppressed the involuntary scream and turned to what it was. At first, she couldn't make out what the thing was, and then she realized it was a man. The scream began to come back up; had they locked her in with a corpse? But then a breath, crystallized in the cold air, escaped the man's mouth and Lynnea realized that he was alive. But hurt. So hurt. The man's scars and bruises made Lynnea feel guilty, guilty til she almost began crying again. She had been worried about her fate, while this man was suffering so much more than she... Without another thought she settled down next to him. She tried to move him into a more comfortable position, ignoring the bile that rose in her throat as she touched the man's blood. He shivered in her lap and Lynnea pulled him close, trying to warm him with her own body. He was terribly cold, and wet too. In his state, he might not even make the night. But Lynnea wouldn't allow that. Couldn't allow that. If this man died in her arms...she might finally break. She might finally go mad. She tried to keep her voice steady as she whispered to him. "Can you hear me?" she asked, and she almost followed that up with 'are you alright?'. But that was an idiotic question. He wasn't alright. Neither of them were.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

This man…seven. Had gotten used to suffering alone; the familiar feeling of the cold ground and even colder iron bars that kept him caged here like an animal. All this he had gotten used to. It had become part of a routine that encompassed his entire existence for this period of time. Even the nearly daily beatings and poisonings had become part of this routine. Sure the side effects were different every time, as the antidotes for these remedies varied just about as much as the poisons themselves did. The damage done to him internally though was comparable to the damage that was written on his body. Hell…that was a good way to describe where this Konti now found herself.

It did seem like the slavers were going to back off of her for now. They needed sleep too and it wasn’t like anyone was really going to make a successful escape attempt at night, especially during the winter. The slaves were kept purposely weak, and the stronger ones were kept even weaker. Seven was one of the stronger ones here; so he was treated with a special amount of brutality by the slavers. They beat him almost relentlessly so that if he did escape he wouldn’t have the strength to go very far. His current condition was a true testament to this fact.

He was cold…frighteningly so as well as wet. It seemed like he had been tossed in here without any regard at all. And well what little energy he did have he spent trying to just huddle himself into a ball to keep warm…like an animal. He couldn’t even find it in himself to reach out and cover his body with a blanket. Not like the blanket would do any real good at all for him. But it would keep some of the snow off, maybe keep him from freezing to death. But recently he had been accepting death more and more. He was the highest number left…Seven.

The highest number after him was twenty; this woman was now thirty two. They didn’t use names here, only numbers. It helped the slavers dehumanize the entire aspect of the slaves. They weren’t people, they were just numbers in a system. Numbers that could be manipulated as the slavers saw fit. And when the time came if need be the numbers could be eliminated and new people take their places. That was how it worked around here. Nothing new really. But this woman…she was new to Seven. He hadn’t had anyone in his cage for a very long time. Usually they kept him separate because they feared him. They feared what he could accomplish if his full strength was about him. But they had made an assumption and put her in this cage with him. Assuming he was weak.

And he was glad they had. He needed another if he was going to make it out of this night at all. He was in a terrible condition as of now. The Konti could see and feel this easily. His body shivered almost violently and his breaths while measured were very laborious. As she spoke to him she would feel his hand gently grip her as if to say yes. But he didn’t speak. Even his gentle touch and grip was pained. She could feel his body tremble in pain. The agony he must feel was incomprehensible.

“did….” He said gently as he seemed to gain his strength. “small girl….brown hair…see her?” It was almost as if he didn’t have the energy to waste on forming fully coherent sentences as he clung to whatever life he had left.

What was he talking about? A girl with brown hair? She likely wouldn’t be able to find her in this mess. Not with some of the cages covered completely with tarps and others so far away she wouldn’t be able to make out figures in the darkness…especially with falling snow. But why was he interested in a small girl? Did he have a daughter here? Or maybe a little girl that he worried about who was here? Did these slavers honestly capture little girls as well? Was THIS the kind of men she was dealing with here? Men who captured everyone including little girls? If this was true she could expect no sympathy from these men…none at all. She was obviously going to be in her own little special hell for the next couple of days.

[Lynnea Timandre]

A tear made a dainty line down her porcelain face. This tear, this first tear she had shed since being captured, was not for her but for the man cradled in her arms. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fragile cocoon of skin and bone; he was weak, very weak. And Lynnea wept for him. She brushed away the hair from his head, not even feeling his blood sticking to her hands now. It lunged blindly behind her, seized the ragged blanket the man had been unable to grasp. In one singular moment, she had covered him with it trying to give him as much warmth as possible, no matter how meager. All thought for herself was discarded in her attempt to help this man. Lynnea suppressed a shiver. When he squeezed her hand, Lynnea felt joy lift her spirits. The man...he was alive. Still conscious, still breathing. And still fighting. Lynnea was glad for that, at least. At least she wouldn't have to suffer alone...but then, a terrible thought gripped her; How does this man being alive help out in our situation? The full, terrible gravity of their situation gripped Lynnea then. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. But she could not. Even in her anguish and her pain, Lynnea was all too aware of the flickering life she held in her arms. The man's words, weak as they were, managed to break through Lynnea's silent howl. She looked at him, searched his face for any sort of clue as to what he was saying. "A girl with brown hair?..." the words passed through cracked lips in wonder. "Of all the things to say, now..." It was clear now, her wonder; wonder at the man's love for whoever this girl was. Lynnea tried to smile, and felt it fail on her lips. "I haven't seen her, no." she murmured gently. "But I'm sure she's..." What, what would Lynnea say the girl was? Okay? Safe? No. How could she torment the man with such lies? "...I'm sure that you'll find her." She stopped then, looking at the man worriedly. "You need to rest." she whispered into his ear. "Don't speak anymore. Conserve your strength." There was a beat of silence. But then, curiosity tweaked Lynnea's brow and she hastily amended, "But before you do...tell me. What is your name?" she was hesitant, unsure of herself, but she managed to mutter, "I'm...I'm Lynnea."

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He was shaking form the cold, how could anyone survive like this? But as she felt him warm she would begin to get the idea that maybe it wasn’t just the cold that was causing him to shiver and tremble. As time progressed the bruising became more and more apparent on his body. Deep almost black bruises were forming almost all over his body. That patched with the open wounds and the cowering…he was a caged animal. He was behaving like a hopeless beaten animal. And who could really blame him. He was definitely treated like one.

His body sickly thin, frail. But at the same time his inner strength was tremendous. She had hardy heard him make a noise this entire time. In fact the only words spoke were about that little girl. What was he so hung up on her about? Her soft words seemed to calm him down a good amount. His pulse evened out and lightened indicating either he was dying or gently calming down. He spoke again one last time softly to her.

“Seven” It seemed with that last bit of energy he just faded off for a few more hours while resting on her. His body growing warm enough to actually warm her as well, which was good for fending off the soon to be mercilessly cold night.

But his body stopped shivering eventually. No he grew lax; but not before the Konti would fear for the man’s life. Shortly before this he had almost been taken by Dira herself. She felt his pulse lighten to almost nothing and the shivering stopped…everything seemed to stop as his breathing grew very shallow and pained. Something was wrong, his body began to sweat. She wouldn’t be able to wake him no matter how hard she tried. There wasn’t anyone here either who would help her, any attention brought to herself or this man would surely be unpleasant for both of them. Was there no mercy here?

This went on for almost an hour until his body leveled out. The shaking stopped as did the sweating. His breathing returned to normal and it was all looking good…until he woke up. He woke once and actually seemed to have strength about him. But he seemed confused. Very confused. Who was this woman with him? Where had she come from? He didn’t panic but as he tried to move he noted the almost intolerable pain throughout his entire body. How had those wounds come to be? Where was he? Why was he in this cage? He tried to sat up and instead just moaned in pain.

“Where…how….” He asked as he shivered some more from the cold.

He looked to her and then was puzzled further, she wasn’t like any woman he remembered. Scales? Where did the scales come from. He felt himself gently, he didn’t have scales. Did all people like her have scales? That was a question he was sure to ask her when he had his mind about him. He was puzzled, afraid and very much unaware of what his current situation was. That much was written on his face by the sheer surprise on him.

“I….” He didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t remember being here, or how he ended up here at all. He didn’t remember this woman….was this a dream? Where was he?

[Lynnea Timandre]

Her head tilted, her face flickered. "Seven?" the question was stark, confused; "Are you...sure?" There was no response. For a second, Lynnea thought he - Seven (no, that couldn't be his name) - was too tired to speak, but then she realized how still he had become. Her confusion suddenly became darker, heart-stopping. "Seven?...Seven!" she tried to rouse him, to shake him, but to no avail. Her cries became increasingly louder and panicked, rising from the staged whisper she had been speaking in beforehand. Now, she no longer cared who heard her - or, rather, she wanted one specific individual to hear her. But no matter what she did, no matter how much she shouted, nothing seemed to work. Seven was as still as a cadaver for a minute, two minutes, three...Lynnea eventually lost track of the time, only tracking it by the dwindling of hope that the man would come back to her. But then, when it seemed the hope had been all but run out, the man woke up.... ...Lynnea's breath was suddenly and inexorably released. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and she leaned back as relief poured over her like a waterfall. After a moment, she finally found her voice; "-Dear Avalis, I thought that you..." it was only there that she noticed his confused expression. Her voice became unnaturally hushed, care bringing it down to whispered levels. "Seven, what's wrong?" The darkening of her brow indicated she had heard his uncompleted questions. "Seven, it's me, Lynnea. We're...we're in a slave camp. What happened?" her worried blue eyes searched his face for clues. She made a indistinct noise of concern as Seven tried to sit up, instinctively moving to stop him. "Don't! I mean...you're hurt. Incredibly hurt. It - it would be best not to move. Just...lie down here." she murmured anxiously, trying to help him back into his former position.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He was scared, he had no idea where he was. This entire place, he had no recollection of it at this very moment in time. Where had these wounds and bruises came from? He also felt sickly, he could see his ribs as well as his arms. What happened to him? As he looked around still settled against this woman he wondered…what happened. Surely he had been here for a very long time. But he still had no recollection of it. All the shooting pain in his boy told him that he was indeed in a sad state. That added to the worry of this woman told him he was indeed in a very bad state of affairs right now.

Slowly as the woman began to explain things to him memories started coming back. He started remembering where he was, who he was…what he had done. She could feel his heart drop into despair as he just sighed and decided to let it be for now. He barely had any strength in his body, not even enough to fight himself away form the Konti that so desperately clung to him. He closed his eyes and just let it be. That was all he could do and really he had almost grown comfortable with it. He remembered the helplessness now. It was familiar. Even though there was still so much that was hazy to him he knew this much; there wasn’t a think in the world he could do right now. Maybe he could lay here against her and keep from going completely insane. Perhaps the memories would come back vividly; and he would be able to recall more.

But now; he was lucky to remember that his name was “Seven.” he said as he then nodded his head some. The name familiar but still so alien to him.

“I’ll just….lay here.” He said almost as if reaching an epiphany of some kind. He really didn’t have a whole lot else to do. He was beaten, bruised, and weak. He needed every ounce of strength he could manage.

He didn’t know much, but he knew little things. Enough to make assumptions about this woman. She was different from him, she had gills and shimmering wonderful scales. Above all she was beautiful, even here in this cage with him. He spoke almost in a whisper to her. “Where is home for you.” His eyes were closed and his breathing steady but she would know the question was aimed at her.

Whatever she decided to tell him was up to her. Compared to his death ridden hopeless slave camp Mura was a gemstone. And it was a gemstone to begin with. Not many cities could match the beauty of the White Isle. It had everything, clear aqua waters, and clean fresh air not stained by the stench of death. No, Mura was heaven compared to this camp. And the longer she stayed there cradling this man the more she realized she didn’t belong here. But she was forced to be here against her will. She was going to then be bought like….like property and owned by someone who was likely going to use her for their own pleasure…whatever that may be. If it was just to see her bleed like this man, or maybe he would want to use her sexually. The reality of this all began to settle in as she saw the people cowering in the cages.

This was the beginning of a horrible new life for her. One that she couldn’t even begin to fathom a way out of either. It seemed there was no one to help her here. She was property, owned by these men before she was sold to another. The same as a trinket or horse; she was just living property to these men.

The night grew colder and Serrif was far from ignorant to these feelings. He knew she would grow cold here soon. With what little strength he had coupled with his ability to shrug off the pain he sat up in a corner of the cage near her. He managed to sit upright in a lounged sitting position. He then mo9tioned for her to come over and lay against him for a change, he owed her that much for what she had already done for him.

“I’m used to the cold…come keep warm. Tell me about yourself, where you come from. I can’t remember my past.” He admitted as he waited for her to move over so he could throw the winter blanket over them both.

[Lynnea Timandre]

"You do that." she murmured. A soft hand wiped the hair from Seven's forehead, a pale, scaled hand set against the darker red of the man's brushed and bloodied skin. It trembled ever so slightly as it made its way across the man's face. "Home?" she asked, a sad and regretful sort of surprise tinging her voice sourly. The memories that the innocuous four-letter word prompted were painful, far too painful, but Lynnea faced them. For his sake. He needed to know...he needed to be able to escape this dreadful place, if only in whisper and dream. "Yes, home. Home for me is Mura...Mura, where all of my people come from originally. Mura is the city of ivory, built on the extraordinary White Isle. It is a happy place, full of peace and tranquility...and love. " Lynnea sighed. Mura wasn't ideal, but in the hellhole they found themselves now she couldn't help but want to return, anything to return to her mother and her sister and her cousins. "I used to just sit on the beach and watch the waves, doing nothing but enjoy nature and this world...I was a fool to realize the world wasn't perfect like there." her voice had turned bitter, angry now. A beat, and then another. She looked away from him now; her eyes were fixed squarely on the iron, emotionless bars that walled the two of them in. In another moment, however, a sudden, frenzied eye had turned on Seven. "When we get out of here, I swear to take you there. To take you to Mura." she promised fiercely. "You'll love it there. That I swear to you." The words had finally stopped. Without saying anything else she let the man rise and retreat to his corner of the cage, taking a few steps back to give him space. Now Lynnea half-stood, half-crouched, facing away from Seven. A sudden tremble overcame her body, and while Seven might have first thought it was the cold, one look at her face would tell him that she was crying. She wiped her hand across her face and tried to stem the flow of tears as he asked for her to come over. She acquiesced without a word, lying down next to him, her head resting delicately against his fragile shoulder. He asked her a question, but Lynnea scarcely heard. "Can you...can you just give me a minute?" she asked, voice breaking. Another tear joined the rest on her cheeks.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Mura…the name burned itself into his mind. Could such a place really exist? He hadn’t really known anything before this camp…not that he could remember. His mind was fading every day. He found himself unable to remember things of importance, much less things that were unimportant. But a city of ivory built on an island? Such places couldn’t exist like she described it. There was just no way, because; in his mind a place like that would be raided and taken for slaves in a heartbeat. But there could be more to this than he originally thought, there likely was. She was the first person from this place that he had ever met. None of the other women claimed to be from this place. But then again none of the other women looked like she did. None of them had scales or gills, nor had long hair that was almost to perfect to be real. He could tell that she spoke the truth of this place though, it was in her tears. She missed it deeply and one would be a fool not to.

She was crying, and seeing this woman cry just strengthened him even more. He needed to show some semblance of strength for her sake. But there was indeed a deeper more harmful truth that she needed to be aware of. Her head was light and delicate on his fragile shoulder. He was malnourished and greatly injured. But he still could warm her, hold her and keep her mind off of the terrible things that were likely to come. He threw the cover over them as best he could to try and keep her covered from the snow; even at the risk of exposing some of himself. But he was used to such things, she wasn’t.

He was going to help her acclimate but he knew it likely wouldn’t be long before they came and took her from the camp. She was special, even he could see that. And the special ones never lasted long here in the camp before they were sold that was. It always seemed the more interesting ones were sold first at a great price as well. And this woman looked as if she was worth a small fortune. So why had they put her in his cage then? Did they want her to break and give in? It was a decent tactic though.

“I couldn’t even fathom such a place existing Lynnea. This…this is all I know.” He closed his eyes and kept breathing steadily as he cradled her body as best he could.

“You have all the time you need.” He said assuring her that he wasn’t going to press her for anything. But it was nice of her to share her home with him; however painful it was to relive it.

He knew that he couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful it was for her to leave that place and be taken here. She was now going to be bound to a life of servitude if she was lucky. If she wasn’t she would be sold to a brothel and be forced into acts that were less than humane. Then maybe any of her children would be forced into slavery as well. The thought of such things made his stomach churn, or maybe that was just the lack of nourishment here. One couldn’t be sure to tell the truth.

“Just rest. I will keep an eye out for you.” He had also become used to sleeping sparingly. One never knew when some of the slavers would come about looking for trouble of some kind. And one needed to keep wits about them if they were to really survive here.

[Lynnea Timandre]

Tears dotted her cheeks like liquid crystals, stinging her face with their treacherous flood. Her hand yet against scrubbed fiercely to eradicate them, yet for each one wiped away two more were shed. "I'm...sorry." she managed, choking out those two words. A curtain of hair was parted over her face in an attempt to hide the betraying lament. She too, must remain strong... A sad smile crossed porcelain lips as she heard him speak of Mura yet again. "It's better than I could ever describe. But, surely...surely you must know something besides this place?" She chanced a look skyward, a visual examination taking up his countenance. "Where were you before this? I mean, before, before...they got to you...?" "You must have come from somewhere else...right?" Despite her questions, she was content to lay against him for just a moment. With her ear pressed to his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, loud as a drum. It enraptured her with its constant ba-dum, ba-dum, somehow in its unending reassurance reminding her of Amaris, of home, of everything good in the world... Safety. That was what it reminded her of. "Thank you." she murmured, and her words were weighted with the heaviness of truth. Eyelids dipped, wavered over dusky blue irises. "I...I will keep an eye out for you as well." But, in the dark of the moon and the ivory bars of their cage, how could a promise like that be kept?