Closed To Play The Part (Isalie, Khida)

[Khida]

The hunter gestured a greeting, and a question at Khida's newest possessions. She regarded him steadily, and signed back a single concept: hunt. She didn't have a sign for trap, but that didn't really matter; it was all the taking of prey in Khida's eyes. She didn't split hairs the way that cat Kelvic preferred to do. He turned then to the prey-girl, directing her on into the shop. Khida watched them go, not feeling a great need to go back in there herself. Instead, she looked on as the hunter picked out things for the girl, and most of all watched the girl's behavior. The Kelvic made no attempt to mask her study of the girl, direct that it was. The girl shuffled in after him, and so far as Khida could tell had no interest in the purchases. That seemed a little strange -- she was used, mostly, to humans getting excited over things. The girls in particular seemed to enjoy combs and colorful things... but not this one. She just stared at the ground, as if her own feet were the most important things in the world. Khida didn't know what to make of that demeanor -- was it fear? But no, she looked up at the hunter, and didn't flinch; she didn't cringe the way the fearful did. She just breathed and moved, like... like an insect's shed skin left on the wall, if it were closed back up and could have an imitation of life. The actions, but not the engagement, the interest, the imperative to be alive. Khida just couldn't fathom what had drawn the hunter to this one, and the more she saw, the greater her bewilderment grew. Bad, her fingers sketched again, not to any particular audience but nearly of their own volition; that, and confusion, reflecting the Kelvic's outlook.

[Colt]

The girl looked at the blankets, but her expression held no recognition, no comprehension, no signal that she even knew what they were. She raised her eyes to meet Shahar’s, and then he could see something; confusion, or at least an echo of confusion, lingered behind that piercing blue gaze. He waited, but nothing changed; the confusion remained there, and though she looked back at the blankets she made no indication that she had understood what he had said.

“Choose,” he reiterated, voice firmer and hands sketching important. He pointed at each of the blankets in turn. “Choose.”

He glanced at the shop’s entrance, where Khida still lingered. Her expression coupled with the signs on her hands mirrored Shahar’s own irritation; why did this girl move so slowly, look so hopelessly?

“You,” Shahar said to the apathetic woman, “you talk common, yes?” He was sure she did, as she had responded to common instructions and had spoken when he had given her water, but a confirmation of speech was not exactly what he was looking for. To get her to speak, even a little, would break the fog that filled her, and even a single spark would give the Drykas some indication that she was still aware and thinking.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Through the thick accent, Isalie notices that the man is speaking Common to her. She does not even realise that the woman is back and watching her, nor that she is communicating silently with the man. It doesn't occur to her that he is looking past his charge, probably because she is seeing through him. But this time he is giving her a direct order, one that she cannot pretend to not understand. The closest one, Isalie, just pick that one. It looks like it might be inexpensive... following the single thought that races though her mind, she raises her arm and points vaguely towards the towel closest to her, hoping that that would placate the man.

Glancing back to the man, she searches his expression for a moment, and immediately drops her eyes to the ground; the expression is not one she liked. Silently, she prays that her new owner would not ask her to pick something out again. She prays that she would not be hurt for her attitude, she prays that she would be left alone.

He speaks again, and she raises her head in surprise. Her mouth opens, and then closes, unsure of how this is relevant; he didn't speak much if the language. "A little." She says softly, allowing her own accent to come through; maybe he would realise that the Common Tongue was not her first language either. But she doesn't have the words, or the will power, for that matter, to explain to the man who had just recently bought her that she had been a slave before, to a man half a world away. "I can understand and speak it, yes, Sir."

She forces the words out, in an attempt to please the man, and lessen any punishment she thinks that she might receive. The monotony in her voice is still evident, however, and it takes more effort than she thought it would to speak a full sentence. In compensation for her tiredness, her eyes flutter closed, and they stay that way for a moment. Isalie sways in the spot before she reopens her eyes and they are still glazed over when she meets the man's gaze once again.

Despite this, there is an element of frustration in her gaunt features. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired; freedom had taken far too much life out of the young woman, that much was evident. She wonders whether the man understands her, whether he realises why she is the way she is. But how could he? He knows nothing of your past. She doesn't know what is wrong herself, why would she be willing to drain herself further to change?

OOCI'm sorry that I'm not being very forward in driving the plot. Isalie herself isn't being very helpful I'm allowing me to do anything!..

[Khida]

The girl spoke, words muted and strangely accented, familiar sounds given an entirely foreign shape in Khida's ears. She wondered, briefly, where the girl came from, to sound like that -- but only briefly. The girl went on to just stand there, swaying a little, eyes slipping closed. She looked like she was about to collapse... to fall over in a heap, maybe even expire on the spot.

Khida's lips pressed into a thin, distasteful line. Heal, he said. Change, he said. Change? Change this hapless, helpless creature, who just stood in the midst of things and waited for the world to happen to her? Stupid, and not even Khida could have said whether that silent castigation was directed more at the girl, or at they who thought to fix her.

The pitiable thing showed not even a spark now, and the memory of Khida's earlier satisfaction just felt like ash. The girl did nothing, felt nothing, wanted nothing. Could not even be bothered to take care of herself, to keep strength in her body, if that sway was any sign. What could they possibly do to make her better?

Khida huffed an aggravated breath and turned away from the tent. Home, she gestured sharply at the hunter, before stalking off towards that same place, where for the moment no prey-girl slunk about in pathetic, grating, hopeless despondency.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Caelum]

Thread Award

Shahar

Skills
Deduction +4
Intelligence +1
Leadership +3
Medicine +1
Persuasion +5
Psychology +1
Teaching +2

Lores
Intelligence: Observational Analysis
Medicine: Rudimentary Health Assessment
Psychology: Emotional Trauma
Endrykas Location: Threaded Hide

Hope

Skills
Deduction +2
Observation +4

Lores
Shahar: Owner
Khida: Pavilion Member
Endrykas Location: Threaded Hide

Khida

Skills
Deduction +3
Intelligence +3
Persuasion +3
Psychology +3
Teaching +1

Lores
Intelligence: Observational Analysis
Psychology: Emotional Trauma
Endrykas Location: Garthos Supply

Notes

Please edit your post in the grade request thread to reflect completion and, as ever, don't hesitate to contact me with any questions or concerns. My PM box is always open.