Closed Kenashian Exodus (Shahar)

[Lale]

Lale Fall 11 Leaving Kenash was not something Lale thought she'd ever do. So waking up thirty three days prior to the proclamation that she and several other slaves where in route to be sold in Endrykas had been a startling revelation indeed. The group leaving consisted of four slavers on horseback and ten slaves all bound together in chains forming a bedraggled line with Lale, the largest in the front. They were certainly deep within the grasslands now, it had been thirty days since they had left the border of Kenash and the slavers had been driving them forward at a rather harsh pace barely giving them time to sleep or eat. The slavers airs of giving a damn about the slaves had vanished immediately upon leaving Kenash. Lale had lost count of the times she had been told that she was going to turn them a tidy profit in Endrykas. Thus did the day wane on as the grim procession made it's way through the never ending sea of waving grass. Lale didn't particularly mind the harsh words, she didn't mind the pace at which they were walking either. This was one of the reasons she was chained to the front of the group. Lale wasn't the sort to fight against orders or bicker, instead where other slaves struggled Lale tended to excel. This was thought to be brought about by the "training" she received from the Sitai, though those who thought that would be incorrect. The Ranuri mark on her inner left thigh had remained hidden for some time, most people keeping a safe distance from the imposing women assuming her size to come with a violent temperament. Just as Syna began her descent changing from her yellow garb of day to a crimson and orange one for evening, the Slavers and slaves made contact with the edge of the moving city. their journey was nearly complete. Making there way into the city the group made it's way towards the market place. Lale looked down as she was marched towards the markets, an attempt to avoid the stares of the tattooed men and women of the city, Lale had her own tattoo, a rose ringed with an inky black vine one her right cheek that marked her as a slave to the Sitai dynasty. Lale new very well that her arrival in this city meant that it would not be long tell she would belong to someone else. That said lale felt very little about this oddly, not so much indifferent as she was apprehensive. Would she be able to serve her new master well? Lale didn't like the thought of being a failure, though she liked the thought of being alienated by these strange tattooed people even less. It wasn't long before the Slavers began to try and hawk their wares to the people, Lale could feel the stares of men as they looked from slave to slave deciding which were worth buying and which were not worth the coin.

[Colt]

Weariness tugged at every muscle in Shahars body. The day had been long, his labors had been hard, and although they had been worth it––the impala he had brought back had received more than a few appreciative sighs––it had left him drained. It was a repeat of the day before, and of the day before that; ever since the fight with Lian he had been having difficulty returning to the normal way of things, unwilling to miss a day of work. His stubbornness had resulted in slower healing and an aching return to the usual routine; the injuries were gone, but the exhaustion remained.

Perhaps the one glittering light of the day was Snow, who had been following him since the moment he awoke; she went with him everywhere, although she did keep herself out of the way on hunts, and her presence was one he was quickly coming to appreciate… even to rely on. His world had always been mundane, cut in certainties and necessities. The grass was grass, the sky was sky, the horizon was the horizon and there was nothing special about it. But Snow looked upon everything with wonder and curiosity, and she was amazed by what Shahar would usually think to be the simplest of things: a red-wing blackbird building its nest. Smala tending to her calf. Two people shaking hands. The entire world was new and exciting to her, and, through her, it took on a new glamor for Shahar as well.

Burst after burst of excitement what’s that emanated from the brilliant white pup as she bounced happily at the side of the black bay stallion and the Drykas hunter upon it. Half the time her questioning wasn’t at a specific thing, but at the world in general; Shahar answered her when she had a specific subject to point out to him, but was often cut off before he could finish as her attention darted to the next new thing.

They walked through Endrykas, four creatures that moved in formation that was subconsciously becoming habit; Shahar and Akaidras formed the center, while Snow danced at their right flank and Tuka padded quietly at the left, unconcerned with the things that the pup found fascinating; the hunting cat, like Shahar, had long since stopped finding them interesting.

The day’s work had brought them to the Ruby district to deposit the impala he had been commissioned to slay, and they were making their way back to the outskirts so that they could circle around the city and return home; business was done, he was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to embrace his wives and then lay down.

Which of course meant that something appeared to keep him from doing so.

They weren’t Drykas traders, that was for certain; foreign and accented and decidedly non-Drykas in movements, they hawked their merchandise at the very edge of the marketplace. Upon further inspection, it made sense; what they were selling was decidedly… bigger than what was usually presented.

Shahar halted in his trek and observed the slavers as they presented one person, then another, describing merits and downplaying faults. A dark-haired man was brought up in chains and named, priced and displayed, although there were few that turned their heads; male slaves would not fetch high prices in Endrykas, not unless they were special in some way.

Memories of other years tugged softly at Shahar’s heart, preventing him from looking the other way and spurring Akaidras onwards, memories that had healed but still remained scarred. Other times, other slavers… other slaves. History slid before his eyes once more.

Surely it would do no harm to watch. Just for a little while.

[Lale]

Lale Lale had been the first one in the line of slaves when they had come to the city. That said she was now the very last who was going to be presented. Of the ten slaves that were being sold seven had already been showcased another was up and that left one more to be seen before Lale would be up. The slaves being sold along with Lale were unfamiliar, hailing from different plantations and different backgrounds. The seventh slave up was a five year old Kelvic male who shifted into a sturdy looking pack horse. The transformation raised a few eyebrows at the very least, even among kelvics horses were one of the more sought after breeds, next to dogs and birds of prey. Deciding that the people had seen enough the kelvic was brought back to the rest of the slaves and the small girl next sitting next to Lale was pulled forward. Lale hadn't talked to the girl much on their journey to Endrykas but Lale was aware that the girls name was Aeryl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, her head of dark hair coming up to Lale's stomach when the stood next to each other. Touching the girls hand to reassure her as she was brought out Lale shared the child's pain for a moment. The poor girl wanted to be back home with the family she had been taken from, even if it meant that she would be back on the plantation. At that moment Lale's strongest desire was to hold that child close and reassure her that things would be okay, this feeling already existed in Lale's heart but it was amplified several time by the Ranuri hidden on her thigh and within her soul. The girl immediately caught the eyes of the men standing about watching the slavers. The girl was certainly pretty enough, and the slavers knew this. One grabber her by the jaw to bring her head up forcing her to meet the gazes of the crowd while his companion went on about how slaves from the plantation she came from where some of the most fertile and hearty in all of Kenash. A statement that Lale strongly doubted. After some more time of them showcasing the slip of a girl she too was pulled back from the lurid gazes of the tattooed men. Lastly came Lale herself, the slavers didn't grab her and pull her to the front like they had the others. In part because Lale was easily taller than all of them but also in part to the fact that they still likely feared her in some part. Instead she was gruffly told to come forward. Giving a reassuring nod and smile to the girl who had returned as she went forward, as it was the best she could do for the girl as far as comforting her went. Stepping forward Lale was presented to the crowd an odd hushed silence fell over them, Lale believed she heard the word "myrian" mumbled once. Lale looked down at her feet, she knew that she made people uncomfortable and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Standing center stage in her tan flaxen undyed pants and tunic, her long dark hair shaggy from so many days of not being brushed hanging down to the middle of her back. Then the slavers began to talk. "Here we have our final slave, a fine example of the breeding done in kenash, bred for strength and vitality this here slave can work in the sun all day without dropping, she's as string as any mule you Endrykans have about the place but half as stubborn. Just look at those arms and legs, toned to perfection by the SItai family plantation, Just like them to know how to make something useful but still easy to look at right?" The slaver chuckled before his next line, "Mind you, only a real man could handle a slave like her so I wouldn't even bothering to step forward to purchase this one unless you think you have got what it takes." Lale found the man's speech quite demeaning on several levels, there was no slave breeding program on the Sitai plantation, and Lale wasn't a violent person at all, those men were just spewing lies. With that Lale was sent back too the other slaves and the Slavers began to haggle with the tattooed men over prices and trades. It looked liked they wouldn't be leaving empty handed from the city of tents

[Colt]

One after another, slaves were brought to the fore and described in pretty details and embellished words. Another male, which didn’t grab much attention––not until mist pooled around him and there was abruptly no longer a man, but a horse in his place. Surprised murmurs rippled throughout the crowd; shapeshifters were known in Endrykas, and superstitions surrounded them like fog. At least, that was what the majority of the Drykas felt towards them; Shahar’s knowledge was altogether more intimate than hearsay and assumption.

The sight of the Kelvic man made the silver cord in his heart twinge with protectiveness.

Following the Kelvic was a young woman, which drew nearly as many gazes as her precursor. She wasn’t unhealthy, obviously, but she was also relatively thin––which meant that she was relatively weak. And she was of clear reproductive age. Memories of laws past and the demand for children broke through the crowd like a wave; men and even women began to eye each other warily, sizing up the competition to purchase such a girl. Shahar pitied her, but he knew he did not have the mizas to compete.

When the appetites of the audience were whetted for the girl, the tenth and final slave was brought to stand before them. This one made the crowd’s appreciative whispers hush almost immediately; this one was tall, tattooed on her cheek. Like the Chaktawe, Jalen, had been, although hers was different than his.

“Myrian,” someone whispered.

Myrian indeed.

Although also of clear reproductive age, this one did not draw the instant interest that the one before her had. It was made even more poignant when the slaver stood beside her and spoke of what exactly it was he was presenting to them: a hard worker. Strong. Muscled. Bred for good traits. Most of which seemed apparent, others which did not.

It wasn’t the slaver’s words that drew Shahar’s attention, though. It was the subtle shift in her posture. When the man spoke, warned that only a ‘real man’ should step up to purchase, something changed in her. Something… disappointed? Indignant? Defensive? Something like all three?

Something passionate?

It was a spark. He knew it instantly. It was a thought, one that wasn’t suppressed or deflected by years of conditioning. It was something resembling an identity, outside of what her ownership defined her as.

It was the spark he had been seeking out for so long, buried deep within Hope’s eyes.

He hadn’t realized he had asked Snow to come close until she was already tucking herself against his dangling foot.

When the spectacle was over, some moved forward to voice interest in various slaves. Shahar found himself moving, urging Akaidras forward. Snow sensed his disconnection, and it worried her.

Where go? she asked. Inquiry why what purpose?

Protect, Shahar answered.

Formal greeting, he signed to the slaver when he was within distance. Tall one, that one, he pointed at the last one that had been shown. Three hundred for her. It was at least fifty short of what a typical human woman would fetch, but Shahar knew how to haggle; he fully expected the slaver to raise the price, and he was ready to bargain.

[Lale]

Lale As Lale again took her place among the slaves sitting and waiting for someone to try to claim her she again looked to the girl. It was likely that she would fetch the highest price gauging from the reactions of the crowd. Lale hoped that they would treat her well. Lale watched the Slavers haggle for a bit not particularly finding it very interesting beyond the fact that her fate was what was being haggled. At some point a man on a horse with a white dog? or wolf perhaps trailing beside him, the man began to gesture at her, or likely the girl beside her all things considered before looking back at the man. The men talked some before the slaver shook his head before making gestures spreading his arms wide, Perhaps he was saying bigger? the too argued at some length both sides going back and forth shaking heads and making gestures. Lale couldn't pick out any words from the conversation but she knew that they were haggling over prices. The conversation went on for some amount of time and Lale eventually lost interest letting her eyes close as she thought about home. Lale's home hadn't been a great one, a shack in which she lived with nine other slaves and she worked every day in the fields without pause from then on out. Home hadn't been a great place but it had at least been something she knew and understood. Now Lale was in a new place that she did not understand and she did not know, On some level it frightened her, frightened her a lot in fact. Lale wasn't a coward, she'd gotten in scuffles before and usually she had won, but even then she went home to the same bed each night and got up again the next morning to work the fields. That was all gone now. What would happen next, where would she sleep that night, what would she eat? These questions flowed through her head as she pondered her fate. Why had the gods brought her here? Was there some reason, or was it all chance? At some point Lale came back to herself in time to see the two men coming to the end of their debate. Coin was exchanged for the keys to Lale's shackles. Though Lale still believed that it was not her key the man held but the key to the girl beside her. the girl still hugging her knees to her chest also pondering her future.

[Colt]

As expected, the slaver did not like Shahar’s initial offer, and waved his hands to indicate his displeasure in a somewhat distracting lack of signs.

“No no no,” the slaver said. “I wouldn’t take three hundred for the girl, much less for the great beast you’re interested in. Just look at her! Worth four hundred, at least.”

Shahar shook his head. Four hundred was quite a few mizas over what he knew was the worth of the woman, and while he hadn’t intended to pay three hundred for her, he certainly didn’t intend to pay four hundred.

Look at her, Shahar signed. Taller than a man. Strong. Intimidating. No good for children. He turned and gestured to the Drykas around them. They want children. Not want men, not want like her, he pointed back at the woman. Of course, Shahar didn’t really know what others would want to pay for the decidedly Myrian-like slave that had been presented to them, but he wasn’t about to let the slaver know that; he had the advantage of being the first offer, and so he could haggle with more freedom. All he had to do was convince the man that his offer would be the best.

The slaver shifted, glancing back and forth from the slave in question and the crowd. “Three-ninety.”

Three-hundred fifteen.

“Three seventy-five.”

Three-hundred twenty-five.

“... Three-sixty.”

Three hundred and fifty.

A pause.

“Done.”

He didn’t seem happy about it, but three hundred and fifty mizas was still a somewhat fair price for a human woman, independent of her size. The slaver turned and gestured for Shahar to follow, which the Drykas did, and the two made their way over to where the woman they had haggled over sat, next to the girl that had been receiving more than a few greedy looks.

A key was exchanged, and the slaver gestured to Shahar’s woman.

Acknowledgement, formal gratitude, dismissal, I will handle from here.

The slaver nodded and went off to attend to the other multitudes of customers. Shahar had no doubt that he would figure out the value of auctioning before the girl came to the fore.

But with his own task at hand, Shahar couldn’t afford to give the girl more than a sympathetic nod before turning to the one who sat beside her.

“You,” he said in Common, assuming she would know at least that language. “Name?”

[Lale]

Lale After the two men had haggled at length and a bargain had been struck the the tattoed man began to walk towards the slaves. Waiting for the man to lay claim to the girl beside her Lale passively watched the man until instead of stopping at the girl he continued to stand in front of Lale. The man looked down at Lale, and Lale looked back, and then the man spoke in broken language. "You, Name?" Blinking once it took a moment for Lale to realize that it was she who was being spoken to. Pointing to herself arching an eyebrow questioningly. "Lale" saying her name and Only that Lale informed the man as to what her name was. She didn't want to say more for two reasons, depending on the man's mastery she didn't want to confuse him, and as a slave she was always told to speak little and listen much. Looking over the man Lae observed him to be a rugged intense looking man, if a bit world weary and a little worse than ware. Holding her shackled hands out to the man Lale exposed her palm upward to him exposing her calloused hands and the Lock that bound her wrists to the chain that held her to the other slaves. If Lale was not mistaken it seemed to her that she had been sold and the man standing before her was going to be her new master. Lale wasn't quite sure how to feel about this though, it was like diving into murky water. One could never be sure how deep they would go or if they would strike stone hidden in the mire.

[Colt]

For a moment, she seemed almost disbelieving of the fact that she was the one being spoken to. There was a moment of blank staring, and then the woman blinked and focused on what it was he had said.

“Lale,” she replied.

Lale. One solitary word, an answer to his question and nothing more.

“Lale,” he repeated. It was a name he would remember, even though she offered little in addition to it; her behavior was something he was partially accustomed to. All of his past wards had displayed the same habits upon their arrival into his care; they would speak only when spoken to, fashioning themselves into blank slates meant to be whatever their masters wished them to be. It was a habit he had removed with seasons upon seasons of care, and, if this woman was now to be ‘his,’ it was a habit he would remove again.

Just perhaps not today.

Shahar became aware of Snow at his side, having been unconsciously summoned by his thoughts of the past. He gave her a reassuring pat on the head to hold off her blossoming curiosity, just as the woman, Lale, held up her shackled hands for him to unbind.

Her hands were worn, he noticed. Calloused and thick with labors of the past, her hands had clearly seen more than their fair share of hard work. Shahar wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but that was something he could sort out tomorrow; the slaver had given him the key, and he set about to unshackling her.

Shahar was not wearing gloves, and he thought nothing of his fingertips brushing her wrist as he unlocked the metal; he didn’t usually grow physically close to others, but he couldn’t very well have done the deed without touching her. It was necessary and it was brief, and it certainly didn’t bring him any discomfort. He therefore assumed that such a touch would be as meaningless for her as it was for him.

He had no knowledge of the mark on her thigh, or of what touching her skin would tell her.

Through the contact, Lale would become aware of Shahar’s aching desire for rest. There was the immediate desire, of course; the day had left him tired and sore, as they often did. It had not been an easy day of work, nor a quick one; hours of crouching low to the ground to examine tracks or to hide himself from beastly eyes had taken its toll and left his lower back with sharp, regular bursts of pain, although he knew that they would stop when he found the opportunity to lay down. And on the surface, that was his immediate, most encompassing desire: to get home, to where his family was, to confirm that they were safe and then to rest until his pains went away.

Underneath that, if Lale dug deeper, was a second tiredness, one that was far larger and more swallowing than that of a single day’s work. It was a weariness of many days of work, burdened by one too many responsibilities, and the fact that he wouldn’t dream of abandoning a single one of them. It was the deeper weariness of a man who was happy to provide one thing after another without thought to his own well-being, and the slow, creeping exhaustion that accompanied those responsibilities piling up and taking their toll, and of waking up to one weary day after another. One too many mouths to feed, one too many lives to care for, one too many tasks to complete, but that he completed nevertheless, over and over with the same stubborn determination to ignore the growing consequences. Beneath the surface, his deepest desire was relief, for just any one of those tasks to be given to someone else, even if just for a day. He wanted a person to share his burden with, even if he spent so much time pretending to himself that it wasn’t so, and that he was perfectly happy providing so many things by himself.

Shahar knew none of what Lale would learn, however, and once he had unlocked the shackles he straightened, none the wiser, and beckoned for Lale to stand.

“Lale,” he said, gesturing for her to come and then pointing to himself. “Me, Shahar, Dawnwhisper. Up, we go, home.”

[Lale]

Lale Still fighting with disbelief that she had been bought by the man. She hadn't thought herself worthy of many, she had been told as much to many times in the past, her place was like that of the mule. To carry the burdens and track behind the stallions that led the charge. When the man reached down to unchain her wrists and his skin touched hers Lale felt the mans own stress and wants flow through her mind as if her own. The man was weary, weary from the day, the week, the month, weary from it all. Not that the man was unhappy, more so that he was burdened with the weight of many things that he could not shrug from his shoulders, not that he would remove them given the chance. This was followed by Lale's own emotions, the desire to bring releif to the man, it wasn't something Lale wanted to do so much as it was something she had to. This being a result of the mark she bore, the mark of the slave, as much a curse as it was a boon. Then as quickly as the moment had begun, it was over. The chains binding Lale's wrists fell away and the man stood back. Saying her name the man stood back Motioning for her to follow, He then told her his name before telling her to follow. Without thinking much of it Lale accepted her new fate as the man's, no Shahar's follower and followed. Following the man there where several things that Lale noticed. chief among them being the beautiful white animal beside the man. Lale new better than to reach out and touch the thing, the slaver's dogs of endrykas had taught her that much. But Lale did at least have a hard time tearing her eyes away from the majestic animal.

[Colt]

There was less than a moment’s pause, and then the woman stood, prepared to follow. Snow tilted her head and wagged her tail with friendly curiosity, seeing Lale as she saw most non-violent people: a potential new companion. She didn’t come too close, though––Shahar had long since made it clear how uncomfortable such a thing made people––but she still let her tongue loll out happily as the newest addition moved to join them.

The slaver was standing by, arms outstretched to take back the shackles and key––they were valuable enough for him to want back––although he did give a pause when Shahar moved to return them.

“Could be useful in keeping her safe,” he said, jerking his thumb at Lale. “Give you the set for twelve mizas, cheap as a gift since you took this one off my hands.”

Shahar’s first instinct was to deposit the shackles and keys and leave them where they were. They were attached to the slave operation, something that Shahar had no love for, but at their most basic they were two loops and a lock, and while Shahar had no intention of using them with Lale, they could have some value around the camp. Items that were at risk of being dragged away in the night could just be shackled to the wagon, and there would be less worrying and guarding.

But what impression would it make on Lale if he accepted them? He wasn’t so weary as to have lost all reason, and the shackles were also metal metal rusted and weathered if it wasn’t cared for, and Shahar didn’t know if he wanted to care for those shackles every day for the services he would get out of them. And they wouldn’t be necessary in keeping Lale in place; the Sea of Grass was a predator in its own right, and if she fled then she would surely die within a few days.

No, he shook his head and returned them to their owner, polite gratitude on his shoulders as he turned to leave. He gestured intent to move to Tuka while Snow fell into step at his hip without prompting; they returned to Akaidras, Lale in two, and made ready to return home.

Lale was staring at Snow, and Snow noticed; the she-wolf glanced behind at their new companion, stepping just a little higher and fluffing herself up proudly; she wasn’t often vain, but there were occasional flashes for the world to recognize how beautiful she was. And when someone stared at her, it always made her excited to display.

Shahar hoisted himself into the yvas with practiced ease, then turned and regarded Lale; she was somewhat thin, although not as thin as Hope had once been, and most of her weight seemed to be lean muscle and tendon. She had made it to Endrykas from… wherever she had been before, and he had no doubt that she would be able to make it to the camp without trouble.

But it would be quicker if she wasn’t walking.

“Lale.” He extended a hand to her. Up, with me, ride. “Up.”