Closed Bound by Mizas and Chains [Fallon]

[Tara Kenja]

Summer the 36th A.V.
Tara had a goal in mind. She was to go into town and get out as though she was never there. The Knights Armory was her awaiting destination. A gentle breeze blew throughout Sunberth. The sun was just starting to go down and be replaced by the moon.

Pink and light orange clouds would highlight around the sun's radiant glow. There was of course the usual hustle and bustle in the streets, especially when travelling past the Slaver's Market. Tara always hated the way she was being forced to go. The number of Mizas was being called out. A few shouts from the crowd and raised hands only forced it higher. She tried to tune out the sounds but it was very difficult.

Tara kept her hood raised, hiding the mixed emotions on her face. First there was splash of distaste then it was smoothed out to be more of a sad look. Even now her own auction haunted her brain. Before she knew it, her journey was to be derailed. For some reason her green eyes were not being able to direct themselves away from what was happening before her. A twisted game of reality was being played.

A young girl was standing out on the wooden plat form, raised slightly above the crowd. Her hands bound by thick cuffs. Her face was strewn with tears. A human girl, around the age of eleven or thirteen. There was a cry in the background, the next slave to be auctioned. The next slave was weeping, her hands covering her face but it seemed they knew each other. Possibly a parent or guardian.

Tara didn't know what it was like to have someone watch her back. Especially when it came to her parents. It happened quickly but the girl was sold. A disgusting looking man took his new purchase and ventured down the street. The weeping turned into loud sobs and then she was shoved up to be auctioned.

This time the prices were not as high as they would have been if the woman was younger. Tara would give anything to be as rich as some of the people who shouted their offers. Slowly her brow creased, if only there was something she could actually do. Everything ending in her fatality. If she was to try anything. Anger begun to collide with sympathy in her heart. Which was a horrible combination.

For some reason she couldn't take her eyes off of what was happening before her.

OOCI apologize tremendously for the wait. I had a series of unfortunate evens happen to me all in a row and was only able to post this now.

[Fallon]

It was with a keen and sharp mind that Fallon kept her vigil, the writing book held open with her left, the spine bent round itself, whilst with the right scribbled away with the quill - the ink vial was held awkwardly between her fingers, but the discomfort did not matter. What did was the market and the selling of stock - it was an attempt to desensitise herself from the actual nature of what said 'stock' was by calling it so. A dip of the nib, a scratch upon the page as her eye caught the name of a slaver followed by a long pause. The blue green orbs gave a quick squint at their symbol - a hammer - and then once more the hand became animated, pulling the black ink out into a matching shape.

Shifting her weight, Fallon begun to move herself. Feet pressed and pushed, a step through the crowd as she moved onwards. The book was tucked away momentarily, the weave in and out as listened to the hum. Voices, prices, the selling of flesh - that was all it was she momentarily focused on, mentally calculating the figures in her head and noting who was sold to who. Gold Hammer, Red Breakers, Salt Dogs, the names of the particular circles went on as she once more stopped and paused. A main stage caught her attention once more, an entire pause as she stepped and moved around the paused and looked. A bidding war she quickly realised, though who was the seller was beyond her for the moment.

Gently she pushed herself through the crowd, taking position by another onlooker - she did not pay full attention to them outside of the hood and the cloak - and once more flipped open the book. Ears twitched, the gentle clink of the quill nib once against the vial, a deep inhale as she drowned out the voices and searched for those key elements. Price, name, description, original owner, new owner, marks, symbols. The hand frantically looked to make those notes, and paused when the bid war went faster and the prices continued their steady rising. The rest of the notes were already down, so all that was now required was the waiting game.

Another flicker of the gaze, a dart to her surroundings as she watched the people - guards, buyers and merchants, maybe with the odd gang member about - and in return, the odd flicker came her way. Lips were wetted, a tilt of the head and chin as she tried to gain a better look of what was before her, "How much do you think the value will be by the end of it? Hundred? Two hundred?" She gave a snort, "Or, do you just think of how poor they are and the torment they'll have to go through?"

[Tara Kenja]

Lightly turning her ear to the voice, a woman of her height was speaking to her. Tara perused her face, as she does normally. Taking in what detail she could without appearing to stare. At first the question was answered with silence but then she spoke up.“Does it matter?” Her voice was slightly above a whisper, rolling off her tongue as a rhetorical question.

Arms crossed, her face riddled with distaste. In the moment of silence she took the opportunity to add, “At the end of the day they are just another slave.” Tara would know what it was like to be hold no title other than slave. Over the time she's been granted a choice to rewrite that but these people, may never be able to do so as she could. The words of this stranger filled her ears.

Tara was still able to hear the prices ringing in her ears, and the strike of a thick gabble as it was accompanied with a loud. “Sold!” Snapping back ground her thoughts, people shoved and pushed through crowds to get their fill of what disgusting entrainment they could find in auctions. Tara knew better than to remove her hood in a place of this sort. As soon as the slave brand was saw then they'd be on her quicker than a Symenstra on a Harvest. For a tick Tara turned to the woman, and introduced herself. "Tara Kenja." Extending her hand she awaited for a name in return. "You must be?.."

What little features was able to be seen from under the hood would defiantly be her massive amount of curls on her head. Most even poured out of her hood themselves. Green eyes slightly glowed, much like her tiger form's would. The eyes she claimed as hers would have been proceeded as human accept for the thick dark green band that would be around them was gone and her pupil was smaller.

[Fallon]

"Three hundred? That's high," She scribbled the figure down, lips licking as she considered the value. Even by Sunberth standards it was expensive, more so as she seemed to be little more than human. Her head cocked to one side then considering, eyes narrowing down as she thought upon it. What did that mean exactly? It was pushed away for inspection in the future, now was not the time. She wiped the quill between her gloved fingers and snapped the book shut, "To some it matters. It reflects back onto their masters after all. Reputation, what they do, their wealth, how quickly they get things done... I could go on."

She shrugged, and waved her words away at that point. There was a sigh as she sealed the ink vial shut once more, and the writing implements were inevitably tucked away on her person. With the book being tucked underneath her arm, she gave a small shuffle to one side then, allowing one of the other observers to walk on past now disinterested the show was over.

Her eyes looked down to the extended hand, waiting to be shook - an odd greeting she had established since her time in the city. Locals did not generally use such formal methods of greeting, unless there was business to be had of course. The eyes followed the arm up to the mouth of the hood, the obscured features that rested beneath it and the hair that rolled forth. There was only a slow blink as she caught a glimpse of those green orbs, and then once more they were lost in shadow. The gloved hand rose, paused as she tried to establish the intent with the staring of her own eyes into the depths, before she shook it, "You may refer to me as Bitzer, or Red Wolf. Whatever your preference."

A nonchalant shrug, her head turned back up to the empty platform and the dispersing people. Easily amused, easily entertained - even with the city socially balancing on a knife edge into war. Inhaling she registered the growing darkness and the cooler bells with a curling of the lips, and once more pushed herself on. Another place to find information, another itch of curiosity to sate.

"Just another slave. Another body. Another link in the chain," She rocked on her heels then, a glance back to the woman - she presumed so with the voice and height. Her voice vibrated slightly, a pull up from her depths as she focused. Suggestion slid about her mind, the twinge of suggestion laying there as she chose her words, - Truth. Honest. - "Is that what really you think?"

[Tara Kenja]

She watched, the slave. Shoved down, then transferred into a new pair of hands. This woman wasn't poked and prodded as much as the Kelvic was. The newly purchased slave was only handled carelessly. While the woman spoke the truth Tara would have easily gone into an argument of what it was like to be bought.

With a simple nodded her head, she showed no sign of disagreeing. People shuffled past them, moving her shoulders from their unbreakable paths. Years as a slave herself she had grown accustom to manners, they were enforced brutally at times. As the names crawled into her ears she tipped her head slightly and stuck with Bitzer. It was an easy enough name to remember.

With the steady coming of night it would be possible to see her brand but only with keen eyes. She turned her head at the question, and then removed her hood. Pushing it over the thick dense layers of hair. It got defiantly hot under the garment and it was a sweet release to have it removed. For a time there was a silence. A sure sign of her honestly taking in the question to produce a righteous answer.

Running her tongue over her teeth. The whites buried into her gums had a look as though they were almost filed to a sharp point, but not much. Eventually she parted her lips, “If you think about it, there is really nothing you can do anyway.” Propping her palm under her chin Tara had to ponder about the subject. “If there was something, something you could do to change their fate.”

Pausing for a tick she then added onto her sentence. “Then I believe they would have their identity back.” Taking in a deep breath of the rank air of Sunberth she spoke out once more.[i]“Then they wouldn't just be another slave. "They'd be somebody.”Tara would make a good speaker, not many words would it take for her to plunge into someone's mind and get ideas to flow. Even more so if she felt strongly about the subject.

[Fallon]

Fallon continued the gentle rock upon the heels, the green-blue orbs swivelling round to sharpen and focus down upon the woman. There was a long, hard stare, weighing up the attempted mumble of an answer - if it could even be called so. It was less confusing and more lead her to pause, the itching to break into philosophy commanding and controlling her. She so itched to such things as much as her curiosity, and so, for the moment she was torn upon making an immediate move.

"So, fate has been pre-written and determined? Forever they shall be bound in links of iron and forced to toil until their dying breath?" The head tilted to one side, "Or perhaps it is their fate to have them chainers shed from them, like a snake with its skin. Who knows, I am no seer. I cannot dictate the future just as much as the next cannot." Fingers wriggled, a rub of the palm as she tried to understand the words to the best of her ability. What was the point she was getting to, what was the intention she was trying to receive, "But... forgive if I have misunderstood, but you seem to believe that I will do something? Is that truly so? No, if you want something done you must reach up and prove to others of one's desires - actions speak louder than words."

"Then what is identity? What is it to be somebody?" She posed the question, a full turn round and the resting of her hands within her pockets. There was only the clink of steel upon her waist as she did, the orbs glinting as she felt the purr of suggestion fill her once more, "Are they not someone despite their current status? I think therefore I am?"

Shaking her head, Fallon once more pushed herself off a full whip round and forwards. Rumours would not chase themselves after all, so she steeled herself and onto her illusive target and set her ears twitching. She heard the name of a slaver circle once more, her fingers fumbling for the book in the low light and turning to the page, there was a tap as she matched the name up to the symbol and turned her gaze sharply towards it. Beyond the heads she could see them speaking and looking down into the cage of some animal, a few wondering looks as they considered it carefully - It was probably too expensive by the looks upon their faces.

"People are strange creatures. They always think they are nobody and must all prove themselves to exist and simply be," it was little more than a low thoughtful mumble as she made her approach over, "Or simply that because they exist on a lower level they are incapable of not being a someone until they obtain freedom. Which... is questionable..." she raised her hand, a loud voice escaping as she made a greeting and slipped into more of a business orientated facade, "Evening gentlemen! What a fine beastie you have there!"

[Tara Kenja]

The Kelvic knew not much about the Gods but, from what she'd heard from others preaching their so called word. “Well, I've heard men and woman speak about it, having a controlled, not by them, future. From my experience all it took was for me to take matters into my own hands to change something I wanted.” Tara's ears were open to the stranger's words, taking in what she could. Almost everything that came from the woman's mouth was the truth, and Tara agreed with most of it.

Even from what she'd gone through she couldn't imagine where she'd be right now if she hadn't done what she did in Kenash. “I don't believe you will do anything, not saying you can't, but sometimes everyone just needs a little push."Softly inhaling she finished, “Matter of fact, Anyone can do that.” When Tara was questioned on what identity is she went for what it means to her. "To me, someone's identity is your place in society. Your everyday life and who you are.” Shrugging slightly, Tara was finding it hard to express herself.

“Society can be cruel and the people in it.” It didn't take her long to become distracted. Her eyes perked up slightly, wanting to see what was in the book the woman carried with her. Looking out of the corner of her eye she tried to make it look like she wasn't trying. The Kelvic could be a very curious woman when times allowed it.

She would have commented on the woman's last statement but instead she closed her mouth when she went over to great the men. At first Tara was surprised that the woman going by the multiple names had addressed them. They reached of alcohol and tobacco. Naturally she turned her nose up at them a little, they did look rather putrid by her standers. Looking at the animal in the cage, it took the form of a small bobcat.

Despite it's size it carried it's self as though it would pack a punch. As a feline she was able to get a little reading off the feline but she wasn't able to detect what race it was, if it was a race at all. Tara wasn't at all sure what this woman had in mind but it seemed to look like she knew what she was doing.

[Fallon]

There was a slight bend to view the creature in the cage, a cat of some form or another as she decided after a chime or two of long staring. Her brow gave a crease, her gaze lifting to look between the two men. Her nostrils gave a flare to, the prickling on her senses as she smelt the drink upon them - faint, but there. Her eyes gave a flicker down to the bottle that was there - some malt possibly - before returning her gaze to the men. She gave a smile, lips pulling back and the hands clapping forward, the mental image of the bobcat turning around in her head, "So you gentlemen are in the animal trade eh?"

"Mostly," One of them hiccupped, and his brow creased almost as if bemused that he had been asked a question, "Sometimes get 'em Kelvics in. Often get sold on pretty quick though."
There was a slide over to the cage, a peer down onto the mark on the top. Her finger traced it, a circle with a line slicing through it, "Your mark? What's the name?"
"Balaks. Animal this one, make a good pelt, right?" One snorted, "You looking to buy or not?"
"Not this time gentlemen, I may be more interested when you have other stock," Another smile a small step away as she did. Her hand gave a flick, and her gaze looked onto Tara.

Her brow rose, "Still following? You a lost sheep?" Lips gave a flicker, the eyes burning before dying down once more, "Or maybe just a curious cat. You know what they say..." She gave a step on past, summoning forth the book and ink once more, a scratch of the surface as she made her notes - Balaks, a drawing of the circle with a line through it, and a note of what they traded in - as the words continued, "Curiosity killed the cat. Though some argue satisfaction is what brought it back."

Eyes gave a flicker across the notes, a chew upon the lip as she flickered back through the notes, "So, by the logic because they have a place in society - even if it is at the bottom metaphorical rung - they have identity? No? It is after all, who they are and their every day life." She blinked at that, trying to understand the point made by the other. She was trying to find the logic in it all. There was an incline of the head, out of the slaver's market, "Walk with me. Talk the thoughts, have it make sense to another."

[Tara Kenja]

Her eyes remained scrutinizing slits as she examined the mammal and it's captors. In a way there was a small part of the Kelvic that was rather disgusted by their overall appearance and actions. They looked like vagabonds and if they were really slave sellers they'd at least have enough Mizas for clothing or a bath. Maybe the didn't care about what people thought of them and instead they used the coin for booze. Tara allowed Bitzer to do all the questioning, she was only there out of interest.

While the Kelvic was very inquisitive but, these were not within her grasp. Medicine and medical subjects and matters were not only her forte but she enjoyed it. She scoffed at the phrase “Curiosity killed the cat.” In a way it applied to her since it didn't take much to spike her curiosity but she'd never take it as far as to shoving her into the clutches of danger and she most certainly wasn't lost. Nodding she stepped along with the woman as they walked. Pursing her lips she had to think where she stood in general on the subject.

She never thought of it that was whilst she herself was forced into the caged lifestyle. “At birth I was taught that slavery was the point in one's life it is impossible to bounce back from.” In Kenash if you were a slave, you had almost zero to none chance you would ever mean anything other than an animal. Which well, they did have purposes. “They had no say in how they were treated, opinions, or ideas in general. I simply.. brainwashed with the ideas I have till this day.” Tara managed to escape the life by the skin of her teeth.

The woman was never one to think outside of the book on societies ways. Hell, she could even been considered an animal by they way she distances herself from civilization now. But, she was balanced way over the line between human and feral. Resigning from her position that slaves had no purpose. “Well, they do have a purpose. That I will not protest against.” Opening her mouth to speak once more she backed out of her opinion for a tick. Than she questioned, "What I don't understand is why this subject is important to you. If you don't mind me asking."

[Fallon]

The clink, the clunk, the ring of metal as she strode. Broad steps, the book was held open with her thumb, her eyes peering upon the pages in the dying light, and chasing the black ink that made up the images and words. Her brow gave only a crease, half hearing the words and pocketing them within her mind. It was on the side that they were slowly unfurled, the meanings looked for beneath - the defining points that made them up. Lips were wetted, a glance back as a key word clicked. There was almost a pause in her step, her gaze looking back to what was before her.

"Brainwashed?" She hummed, "As in... to be pressurised into a belief through repetition and forcible means? To take it as the social and cultural norm?" Her tongue clicked, a rock back onto her heels as she snapped the book shut once more. Her thumb ran across the spine, the humming continuing until sharply falling short, "Normality... Normality... It is a strange thing. It defines us, gives a base to work up and out from, a sense of what is right and wrong. A moral compass of sorts. Still, that is interesting. Forever restricted, and unable to grow or obtain self identity. Merely puppets."

The look back, the waiting almost of a reaction - anger, rage, or maybe just a jerking flinch of the gaze away. Or perhaps there would be no reaction at all, just the complacent expression and the matter of fact voice returning to her and simply posing more thoughts and questions upon the subject. Either way, it gave her another step in, another understanding of the character before her. What could she use, if anything could be used at all. Was she merely just another face in the crowd or an information probe. A purse of lips, a narrow of eyes before she shifted and moved once more.

"Oh, I have my reasons," There was a flash of teeth, the purr upon the back of her voice, "But what reasons are they? Could be any. So, let us use our imaginations for a moment. Perhaps I am a young entrepreneur, a woman who looks to finance herself and understand the slave market. What is popular, what is not, and who should I become good associates with..." Her hands came up into a set of scales then, a lick of lips and a grin in return, "Or... perhaps I am something else. The worse nightmare of any slaver, one who looks to disrupt and destroy what has been built through various means." The invisible weight shifted, the scales of flesh moving before falling away, "Regardless, both are important. The question is, which one? Or perhaps it is neither. I will let you decide."