OOC: Tags to
@Morrighan !
I'm reusing some of the intro from Danning's other post, to help introduce him better and also to act as a reminder and reflective moment from where he had come from and why he is here.
Skies were scorched with the bellowing cries of men, their faces slick with the sweat and dirt of work, and their voices laced in blood. What had begun as a peaceful rally in the castle square outside the front of the Grand Duke's palace, in a far away land... in the North... in Connlaoth, turned into something wicked. It was a poison he could only preach against. And though his eyes burned with the pain of those suffering in this war, he could not stop what it had evolved into. Not after the Grand Army stepped in, their guns spitting fire into the crowds of many.
'Men are Fools. And I am but one of them. Yet I can only continue on the path in which ignites me.'As the men screamed in agony, carrying on for an end, for peace, and for more blood....
He had to wonder...
'Oh, Angsar.... Forgive us all but we are men plagued with hatred so consuming its spread like a wildfire and plagued every inch of this blessed nation. And here we stand, to speak of peace, when all sides can do nothing but call out for war. I ask for you to forgive them, to help them see, that we are but men, not untamed beast. And that the illness of war be banished. For this to you, I fervently pray.'He witnessed the horror first hand as the cannons of the army boomed into the crowd in Reajh. Blood and arms splattered across the square, breaking up cobblestone and bones.
"What are you doing!?" the priest's eyes were wild. What was happening!? Why were the men attacking with war weapons when the people only protested with angered words, and a few- stones? "There are women! There are children!"
But the screams of soldiers and the cries of the fallen swallowed out the logic as the square was soon swollen in dust.
How many more canons would fire? How many more innocent would die? A bullet singed his shoulder, the closeness ringing in his ear as he let out a cry and gripped his shoulder as blood came warmly through his fingers. He nearly dropped the Book of the Word of Angsar from where he stood, bracing himself against his make shift pulpit. More canons were fired, and the ground shook, threatening to over turn him.
He couldn't believe this madness. He didn't want war. He wanted peace!
And despite the insanity that thundered around him, he got back up again onto his pulpit, words spitting from his mouth until he could no longer scream-
"WE ARE HERE FOR PEACE!" he bellowed. "WE DO NOT WANT THE BLOOD OF OUR MEN ANY LONGER! WE RALLY FOR PEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAACE! FOR PEACE IN THE NAME OF ANGSAR! IN THE NAME OF OUR PEOPLE! WE CALL OUT FOR NO MORE BLOOOOOOD!"
But perhaps it was all for nothing? Perhaps it was foolish to think that, even with a just avatar as Angsar, his own empire had been built on blood. War... it was a funny thing. A necessary evil, perhaps. But this evil... this war...
He lost sleep at night, tossng and turning over the very idea of it as his stomach burned him from the inside out. This was a war he knew even Angsar himself would condemn.
But he couldn't give up. He couldn't run away. And the sight of those who suffered carried him through the fray, that even long after the dust began to swell, his hoarse voice called out...
"Peace! We are here... here for PEACE!"
And it was the sound of boots crunching across the broken cobblestone that had him turned. And there he saw a group of soldiers look at him. They were angry, they were worn, and though they were armed with weapons, and he had nothing but 'Angsar's Bible' in his arm, he turned to them stlll, and used what voice he had left.
"It is never too late!" he croaked. "Peace must come to Connlaoth! Peace before the death of our brothers. Peace before the death of our sisters, our mothers and our wives. Our children! Peace before.." he went on shakily, weak. "Before we make our own nation fall! And Angsar's heaven turns to Hell."
And he wondered if the men had pitied him, staring at him as he was half draped over his pulpit, as they simply walked by. By then, the square had emptied...
and what was left in the dust were the simple soldiers to clean up the mess that a rally of peace had erupted.
But his story hardly ended here. In fact....
This was only the beginning. For though the day had come and gone and more riots begun to errupt soon after, he retired to his lakeside home near the Matron. And from his porch at night, he watched the moon waver against restless waters. Clouds were moving in, but they did not snuff out the stars, the stars in which he looked upon, to stars to which he prayed.
He had gone out to his porch, the soft chirp of crickets, though calming, only reminded him of the calm before a storm. And even through it, he heard the foot falls approach. But he did nothing. The candle along the railing had nearly gone out by now. But he didn't think it would matter to replace it. And when the foot falls stopped, he tensed, but did not turn around and kept his eyes upon the lake.
"Father Danning Gates?" came a gruff voice from the darkness.
For a quiet moment, the priest enjoyed the tranquility of the Matron lake, and how the stars danced across its surface. It was peaceful, but it was just a reflection. The real peace was in the stars above. And he had to wonder when that peace would come to earth. Or were all men doomed by the damnation of anger that tainted their blood?
"Yes? I am Father Gates." he replied. And those would be the last words he'd speak in a good long while.
----------
A lethargic, creaking moan lulled him awake, into a world where everything, even his vision, hurt. And when the same creak came again, he felt himself being rocked in a new direction. There was something cold, and what sounded like a metal rattle, though in the same breath, it also had a sweet chiming ring to it. But it was when something tickled his arm did he jerk around to see...
A rat! A rat on his arm! He let out a cry, and jerked even more, despite the protests of his body, and the apparent, heavy metal chains that bound him, upside down int he hall of the boat...
With a hundred other men and women bound like himself.
His eyes were wild, and he moved futilely against his chains, as he simply swung back and forth at his own avail- and at the mercy of the slow rocking of the ship. And though he spent countless days.. weeks in the hull....
The worst part of these days where to watch the sufferings of men.
He didn't know when the boat had stopped rocking, or when there was the call of birds at the bank their ship had now perched. But when light flooded down into the room, those weary men in chains who remained alive could only lift their heads blindly, as they were released from where they hung, and whipped to walk, even though most were too weak to even stand.
Outside the boat the sun burned hotter than he'd ever known, and the world glowed yellow, an ironic contrast to what he pictured might be hell. There were trees with throngs and strange birds with long legs, and as he stumbled across the gang plank onto land....
Despite the thick grasses...
There was sand. Sand all around.
----
He closed his eyes at the memories that brought him here- and that fateful day he was tossed into the arena, sentenced to die after surviving so long a treacherous journey at sea. But it seemed, in some strange way, his prayers to live, to carry on the peace giving words of Ansgar, would save him. But he had to wonder where this would all lead- for this was a world in the sun, so far away from his land shaped by winds.
Perhaps he should be thankful he hadn't died, but those who had captured him were giddy and greedy for the coin they could fetch from such a man. He was unarmed but somehow survived in the arena, protesting in his own native tongue, while the rest of the world laughed in their's.
Perhaps that was why no one had bothered to purchase him- he was seen as the crow that never ceased, for all day he had cried out, voicing his thoughts on peace and tryign to gather what he could of the language- but would it be in vain? It seemed no matter what words he tried, foreign or not, he was laughed at- and whipped and flogged until he was shaking and spitting out blood. And the burns around his neck and wrist began to break open again- the raw flesh as horrid as the burned flesh he had gotten from the sun and sand. But this day in the busy streets of Essyrn was hardly over- and the only thing that had silenced Danning was when he was forced to drink an elixir that had him swaying and collapsing against his own volition.
It was only when the elixir began to fade away did he blink and a figure of a tall woman with dark skin stood before him, looking down at him as if he were some chop of meat.
"He looks like a burned pig," she commented, tilting her head calmly to one side. "But..." she sighed, staring down into his face. "Those eyes are raw... jewels of blue. And he looks strong enough. Surely his survival in the arena will make him pricey... but do you know what this foreigner can do?" The woman asked, and gestured to one of her men to begin their inspection.
Danning had been seated, but a quick tug to the chain round his neck forced him to his feet, and he let out a grunt of pain through bared teeth. He swayed a little, but two guards kept him upright, while his meager skirts were lifted as the woman began to inspect his goods.
"I guess he was left in tact for breeding?" she went on, gesturing for the men to drop the skirts and to bring him closer as she gave a gesture of her wrist. He was dragged forward, and he found his chin being pinched between the woman's hard finger nails.
She had orange eyes. He had never seen orange eyes.
"How much?" she asked. "To have him cleaned and delivered?"
"For you, Lady Kahalla? No less than three thousand gold I'm afraid."
The woman stiffened.
"Do you really think this scrappy pig would sell in the thousands?"
"I've already go some bids today. You... ought to place yours. We're eager to sell him. That is.. if you're interested. Three thousand or he goes to Lord Brau."
"Lord
Brau?" Lady Kahalla wrinkled her nose and sighed. "I suppose I'll put my bid at three thousand." And she looked to the man." But nothing more. If someone wants to waste more gold, let them have him. Not sure I'd want him to breed with my stock... but.. I suppose foreigners have their own unsightly charm."
With asnap, her men returned to her side.
"I'll return before hte sun sets to see if this
jewel is mine."
And all Danning could do, was find himself staring back at the woman's retreating form, his tongue still swollen from the elixir, but he began to feel the prickling, tickling awakening of his limbs just as he was thrown towards a trough of watera nd commanded, "DRINK!"
Though no animal by any means, he was parched beyond belief. THankful they at least let him drink anything, he dunked his head into the water, and began to lap at it like a thirsty dog.
A young girl who had recently reached marrying age entered the marketplace where the slaves were being bought and sold. Her body was slender built and she was of average height. Even if she was young she already was a great beauty.
Her long, dark hair was arranged in an advanced hairdo that spoke of her noble birth and the wealth of her parents. Her clothes were made of exquisite materials, embroidered with gold threads and decorated with jewels. Her heart-shaped face was pale and beautifully shaped, her soft lips trembling as she made her way towards the slaves.
But the most remarkable with her was her eyes: almond-shaped and warm brown of color, surrounded by long, dark eyelashes. Her eyes held a mild and gentle expression, revealing a high intelligence and a warm and caring nature.
She watched with pity in her eyes at the suffering in the eyes of the poor slaves - and for a moment she felt that she and they had something in common. They were both in situations they could not escape, they were slaves and she...
I am bound to Rasul Syron for the rest of my life....
Her own life was not much better than slavery. She almost wished for a silent moment that she could have taken the place of the slave who right now was checked out by a tall woman with dark skin, and who moments later was thrown towards a through of water and ordered to drink. Her eyes brimmed with tears of compassion for a moment - her heart aching for the suffering man. Her warmhearted nature forbid her to watch this treatment.
Money was no problem for her, as she had always belonged to a wealthy family. Yet she hoped that her youth and beauty would melt the slave owner to give her some discount when she bought the poor man. She waited until the tall woman had walked away, did not wish to get into an argument with her - especially not over a slave. Taking a step forward she turned humbly towards the men who seemed to be in charge of the male slave.
"Excuse me," she said humbly. "What price must I pay for this man? Must I pay the same as Lady Kahalla? Or do you have a special price for me?"
She knew that she might get lucky while asking these questions. The Bathory family, her family, was well known in Essyrn, her father had bought several of his slaves in this place.
At first, the seller was aghast any would ask such a price.
"Lady," he looked her over. "Before I can settle on a price.." he went on, weasly but charming. "To whom do I have the pleasure of doing business with?"
At their talk, the slave who had been lapping up the water peered over at the pair, water dribbling down his face, and matting his blonde hair against his frame, and also it dribbling down and had the front of his opened shirt stick to his chest- which the sunburned blistered could be easily seen on his muscles- as well as the gritty sands that clung to his form.
Although he said nothing, something about this woman's eyes made him release a trembling sigh, before suddenly he doubled over- and vomited blood and bile onto the ground.
The seller was taken back and began to shout incessant words from a blistering mad tongue as he drew out his whip and hesitated not to give the damn slave a few good strikes. Involuntarily, the slave jerked back, crying out in pain before doubling over and shaking with sweat, fatigue and of course, pain.
Flavia looked innocently up at the seller when he asked her whom he had the pleasure of doing business with. Her cheeks were blushing with shyness, but for the wellfare of this poor man she had to be brave.
"My name is Lady Flavia Bathory-Syron," she introduced herself, remembering that she also carried her husband's last name now that she was just married. "My father is Count Bathory of Essyrn, and my husband is Lord Rasul Syron. I believe my father may be one of your customers?"
Through the corner of her eyes she could see the slave who had been lapping up the water peering over at her. Water dribbled down his face, and the sunburned blisters made her heart bleed for him. The poor man - why didn't anyone do anything to help him?
Well, she was here now, and if it was up to her he would soon be a free man....
She had not finished the thought before the man doubled over and vomited blood and bile onto the ground. Flavia wondered what the dark woman who had been here a minute ago would say if she had seen it. Would she have reacted with the same compassion as Flavia now did?
When the seller started shouting incessant words and driving out his whip, Flavia lifted a slender hand. "Please, don't hurt him," she pleaded. "The poor man is sick - it's not his fault. Let me take care of him. I can nurse him back to health. Nursing of the sick was among my favorite subjects in school..."
Now that the seller had revealed that one of his goods - the male slave, was defected, she turned her gaze towards him once more. Lord Bathory was a personal friend of the King - a word from him would be enough for the man to be denied to set foot in Essyrn again - and then he would miss the wealthy customers who lived here....
"But to return to my question," she repeated in a soft voice with the patience of an angel. "How much do you want for this man?"
The seller did not like how this little scenario is going.
"Why would you father care for you to buy such a thing? I could not possibly allow my reputation to be on the line for you to purchase such.. defective goods." He snapped the whip back into his fist and looked at her hard, and business like.
However, he knew the sway women had on folks- It had, after all, been the supposed downfall of the former Shah and ruler of Essyrn.
"How about I pay you to tend to him, if you so care. But no more than three days grace. This man is a good to be sold- and we paid much gold to see him ferried all the way from Connlaoth."
The man's grin broadened, toothily so and he used the whip to press harshly under Danning's chin so he had to look at the woman before them.
"He will be obedient, but whiny, like a dog. You saw how he drank... How about we say.. twenty gold for your time?" And hte man went to fetch his coin purse.
Flavia looked up at the seller, listening to his words about defective goods. Her heart ached for the poor slaves, not wishing this kind of life for any of them. If she could, she would have bought each and every one of them, attempting to give them back their freedom. But she knew the slave catchers would capture them again as soon as she was out of the picture.
No, the best thing she could do was to place her money on this poor man, who so clearly seemed to be ill.
"My father likes a good bargain just like anyone else," she replied, trying to dazzle the man with one of her charming smiles. "If the... goods... as you say, are defective, there may perhaps be a chance for me to buy him for a small reduction in the price? My father is trying to teach me how to make a good bargain, and he always say that money saved are money earned. But I shouldn't say such things to an experienced seller as you. Your reputation is well known. I have nothing but kind words to tell the King about you when I see him this afternoon..."
She hoped a little flattery of his ego would improve his mood, making him more willing to sell the slave to her. And if a little of her charm could ease his mood, perhaps this poor man could be saved from a round of severe flogging?
Her smile broadened when the seller said this man was a good to be sold. "Well, then, if he is to be sold, I see no reason why I can't buy him," she said. "I have money to pay with, solid gold and all. I have the means and knowledge to tend to him until he gets well, and I am in need of a new servant for our household. Wouldn't you say that is a good investment of time and money, my good man? Instead of having to give your well earned money to me, I can give my money to you. You get your pockets filled with gold, I get a new slave, and then we are both happy."
She tilted her head to look at Danning when the seller spoke of him being obedient, but whiny like a dog. She thought with herself that it had to depend on how he was treated, but she dared not discuss this with the seller in fear that he might cancel the deal without letting her buy the slave.
It wasn't until then did Danning speak, choking on his words that they were almost spat out.
"I.. I am no good to be sold!" Did he sound as pathetic as he felt. He began to shake, rising up on one knee. "I was stolen from my home- taken here and-"
"That's enough!" And the seller hesitated not to back hand Danning as the slave yelped and stumbled onto the sands, and proceeded to cough out more blood. The seller growled and tightened his hands into fists, but tried to keep his cool as he looked over at Flavia.
"See? Do you see what you might buy? This dog will need lots of floggin, not tenderness." He moved to grab Danning by the scruff of his neck, pony tale and all, and the man helped to be held as such. He gave Danning a shake.
"Slaves are not people, why show compassion? They are below us- workers, owned goods."
But even being treated as such and as weak as he was, Danning shook again, words bubbling from his throat.
"I... I am NOT for sale."
The damn slave had to pick up THAT much in Essyrnian. Damn the other slaves that had learned it to. He gave Danning a shake, his other hand around his throat.
"STay quiet- I'm trying to make a sale." ANd he glared over at Flavia, his patience waning.
"How about you pay what Lady Kahalla would have paid and we'll call it a fair trade. Three thousand gold, nothing more- nothing less." He gave Danning a shake, a strong hand moving to grip his face, squsihing in his cheeks nad forcing him to look at Flavia.
Danning's eyes were wild at the handling, and though he wanted to protest, to further speak out against this-
His throat was constricted well by the seller's other hand that held him well off the ground, so that his bare feet were not touching the gritty sands.
"So.. how about it? He might be pretty with these blue eyes after you clean him up. Sick or not, you said you can handle that... So the price wouldn't make sense to lower... and actually, this is a bargain. Lady Kahalla...... You know what this might mean if I go against her initial request."
Flavia watched the poor man with pity in her eyes when he tried to tell her that he was no good to be sold. She tried to send him a message with the way she looked at him, that she was not a regular slave owner, that she only wanted to get him away from the slave traders. She could only hope that he was intelligent enough to see the glance she threw him and understand.
His words about being stolen from his home made her feel even more sad for him. That poor man. She already wondered how she could save him from these horrible slave dealers and bring him back to freedom.
She tried to keep a calm face expression when the seller spoke of the dog needing lots of flogging. She had problems seeing how that would make the man behave better, but she was wise enough not to bring that up with the seller.
She also knew better than to argue with the seller about slaves and human rights. Since when had a seller listened to a young woman? So she remained silent, and the words that burned on the tip of her tongue remained unspoken. At least until she saw the seller giving Danning a shake.
"Hey, be careful," she said gently. "If he is further damaged he will lose his value on the market. You know how strict the King is with this, don't you?"
She smiled when he suggested what Lady Kahalla would have paid - three thousand gold. It was a large sum of money, but if it could buy this poor, sick man his freedom it was a small price to pay.
"Very well then," she sighed and found the money from her bag, placing them in front of the seller so he could see for himself that she did not try to trick him. Here are your three thousand gold. I want a receipt for my purchase, but you know this already."
When she had paid the price and sorted out the paperwork for her purchase, she turned around to face Danning. Pretending to check to his illness, she leaned down and whispered in his ear.
"You are not safe here," she whispered. "They will force you back into slavery again if you stay. Come with me, please. I know a place where you will be safe from abuse and where your wounds will be taken care of."
He wasn't sure exactly what happened- but it was strange, though not unwelcome, to see her expression, the kindness in her face, in her words...
His lips trembled, and he bowed his head.
She had paid for him- so despite what he believed- for now...
No matter how this fate was played out..
He was her property int he eyes of all of Essyrn.
"Shall I help deliver him for you? His legs are a bit weak, as you can see. Shame. I think the sea did a number on him. Though not all slaves can claim they could survive such a journey.." the seller went on.
But at such a claim, Danning felt him shake and attempt to move, groping for anything to help him stand.
"No."
The seller was taken back.
"No.." Danning repeated. "I... I will walk."
And after a few labored tries, he stood as erect as he could, breathing heavy as his blue eyes sought those of the woman-
The only one he had seen and felt could offer hope.
She saw the man's face expression, her heart bleeding by seeing how abused he was. It felt strange for once to be the one having to care for the bruises of others. Normally she was the one in the receiving end of a whip or a clenched fist. Was it so strange then - that she felt she had something in common with this poor, unfortunate man?
Luckily he seemed intelligent enough to understand she was trying to help him. She saw his lips trembling before he bowed his head.
Poor man, she thought. I have to find a way to help him back to his family again. I only hope he won't get recaptured by slave-traders. Though if anyone tries, I could equip him with a letter of freedom....
For now she had to play a role, making all of Essyrn believe she was going to bring this man home as her slave. If she didn't play this part, she might risk that they forced him to stay behind - without her protection. And she didn't want to know what could happen to him then.
She smiled towards the seller when he offered to deliver him for her. She could see for herself that the man was ill, but she had faith in her lessons in medicine. Hopefully she could find some way to cure him. If she had been a man, she would have been a doctor by now. But she was a woman - and women were not allowed to have higher education - even if some of them, like Flavia, were talented and would make excellent doctors.
"Thank you," she said meekly when she saw Danning's silent protest against letting the seller carry him away. "But I think he and I may be able to get home by ourselves. I do not live far from here."
She was glad she had taken time to stop at the market shops before entering here. In her bags she had food and a couple skins of water, and also a bottle of something stronger for medical use. Perhaps she would need this bottle sooner than she had thought.
She stood patiently and waited while the man tried to get back on his feet. His blue eyes sought hers, and she looked up at him and smiled, a silent reassurement that nothing bad would happen to him while he was under her care.
"If you feel ready for a brief walk," she told him gently, "we are only 50 steps away from my Mansion. You can lean on my shoulder for support if you need to. Come, let's get out of here..."
"Wait!" The seller stumbled in front of them.
"Before you go.. I forgot.. the slave, he will need a good wash."
Flavia smiled and looked up at the seller, nodding briefly. The friendly smile never left her face, as she had a feeling it wouldn't do her any good being rude. Especially not now, when this poor man's life depended on her actions. Her thoughts, however, would not stay silent, even though she never let the words pass her lips.
What a remarkably observation....
"Thank you, my good man," she replied gently. "I will make sure to give him a bath when we come home. As I mentioned before, I do not live far away from here..."
"None sense!" the man laughed. "It's a common courtesy that a seller never let's his stock leave his market so... soiled."
Danning grit his teeth, trembling and wanting to say something, say anything but it seemed his former 'master' was intent to keep this at a stand still.
"Please.. my lady..." the seller bowed. "I'll even let you .. watch. To ensure your goods are well washed before you can take them home"
Flavia sighed and looked over at the poor slave with regret in her gaze when it didn't look like they would get rid of the seller unless he got to give him a bath.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to Danning. "It seems we won't get rid of him unless we do as he say. I wish I could have spared you for this..."
"Very well then," she sighed, hoping that Danning would forgive her for being unable to get rid of the seller. "But make it quick. My husband will soon return from his job and he will not be happy if I am not home when he arrives. I was hoping to end this trade in due time to tend to my other chores before his arrival...."
She shuddered inwardly when the seller offered to let her watch as he bathed the slave. She did not wish to see a strange man naked. But on the other side, what would they do to him if she refused? Would they give him a last whipping as a goodbye present?
She sent Danning an apologetic gaze, wishing she could have spared him for this humiliation. But at least her presence would stop them from abusing him further. And surely he would feel a bit better that she didn't look at him with lust like the other woman had done?
It was degrading but he had no choice. Stripped of his clothes, any hidden lashes and burns were revealed and he was shoved into a human stable. Water was thrown at him, so was the soap, before the man roughly scrubbed Danning down. He was none too gentle, especially over his burns and scabs and then to the nethers.. The slave was near in tears. Finally it was over and a stumbling Danning was reclothed and presented to her, a new collar and leash around his throat.
Flavia's heart bled for the poor man as he was stripped of his clothes. She tried lessening the humiliation he must have felt by trying to turn her face away, keeping watch with her ears to make sure nobody whipped him or abused him during his bath. She was ready to intervene if a whimper from him revealed that he was treated too roughly.
Still, she had managed to catch a glimpse of his hidden lashes and burns before she turned her gaze away, and she had to force back a whimper of compassion. The poor man - what could she do to help him? And how could she offer help without humiliating him further?
Finally the sounds around her revealed that the slave was done with his bath. Only when he was dressed and returned to her did she look up. When she for a moment met the poor man's eyes, her own brown orbs brimmed with tears of compassion, her gaze silently pleading forgiveness for having to put him through this kind of unworthy treatment. Had she refused she suspected they would never get rid of the seller.
I am so sorry for having to put you through this, she thought. Please forgive me....
She had to force a smile towards the seller when he delivered the man, her face paling by the sight of the collar and leash. How anyone could treat another human being this way was beyond her.
"Thank you," she said in a toneless voice. "And now, if you excuse me, I really have to return back home. My husband will kill me and anyone else responsible if his dinner is not ready upon his arrival from work...."
She turned towards the poor slave with tears burning in her eyes, knowing that she could not hold back her tears for very much longer. She hoped he understood, and that they would be able to get away from here before she had a complete breakdown. Even she had her limits for how much evil she could see in one day.
"Come," she said briefly, struggling to stay strong in front of these cruel sellers of human lives. "Let's go home..."
I don't know for how much longer I can keep the facade...
What little choice did he have? The bathing, although somewhat cruel, at least awakened him from whatever they had used to subdue him. Though this time, he had the strength to speak...
He had the respect not to.
He saw how things worked around here,a nd he hung his head down- though more respectfully than out of subordination. He waited until they were further away before managing to groan out on a scratchy breath that was in broken Essyrnian, "Thank you."
Though he hoped she might speak more common. She seemed more educated than most- however, it seemed a lot of people in the desert preferred to use their own language rather than the common tongue used up north.
Flavia's heart still bleed for the poor man beside her as she silently started walking, trying to get herself and the man as far away from the slave traders as she possibly could. As she led the way towards her Mansion, she heard the man groaning out on a scratchy breath a "thank you" in broken Essyrnian.
His broken language and his blue eyes revealed he was not from Essyrn. If he had been, she doubted he would have been treated like this. This kind of treatment were usually kept for slaves, though Flavia herself did not condone it. At this stage of her life she felt compassion with the poor humans forced to live such lives, and secretly she did anything in her power to help them. In return the poor humans had taught her their languages, and the common tongue used up north happened to be among them.
A soft smile lit up her face as she looked up at the man. "You are welcome," she said in the common tongue, the language most used among her father's slaves.
After a brief walk, she led him towards a stately Mansion surrounded by a beautiful garden. This was the Mansion her parents had given her and Rasul as their wedding gift. The gate was opened when she arrived, and she led the poor man she had rescued inside, and brought him to the main house. There she opened the door, and led him to one of the guest rooms of the house.
"Welcome to my home," she told him in the common tongue as she gently removed the collar and leash. "I am Lady Flavia Bathory-Syron. I refuse to call you slave or You there when I speak to you, so I ask you right away - what is your name?"
She was still visibly upset after the beastly way she had seen him been treated at the market, tears still shimmered in her eyes. "I - I couldn't help noticing that you are injured..." she continued. "Will you allow me to take care of your wounds? It is true what I told the seller, I have been trained to tend to wounds and care for the sick. I went to a school of Medicine in my school days, and I was the star student, even if I never can be a doctor because I am a girl. I also need to know if you have have other sicknesses. How do you feel?"
Her eyes looked up at him when she spoke, hoping he understood she did not see him as a slave. She would not treat him as cruel as she had seen the seller do, nor could she bring herself to treat him as a piece of meat like the other Lady at the market.
Blue eyes returned her caring gaze with a warmed hunger. How long had it been since he'd seen real compassion? He studied her features, realizing, through the way she spoke- the way she looked- Was she not a native? Those of the desert had such dark or golden skin- but she was fair- nearly as fair as he. Though he had heard the aristocrats sometimes kept themselves beneath parasols to protect themselves from the sun.
Either way, she seemed well guarded from other means as well- one of them being the entirety of the culture.
He realized he had been staring and with a blush, humbly lowered his head.
"Danning.... " He lifted his gaze to her again, those blue eyes so striking. "I'm from the North- Connlaoth."
He peered down at his skin,t he wounds.. the burns...
"I... knew.. some medicine myself. If you wish of it, I could tend to myself."
THough the wounds on his back.. obviously he couldn't reach-a nd those..
Those were the worst.
(OoC: I have forgotten to show you, but this is a picture of Flavia, so you know what she looks like: http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/11600000/The-Brothers-Grimm-the-brothers-grimm-movie-11648338-1024-768.jpg (http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/11600000/The-Brothers-Grimm-the-brothers-grimm-movie-11648338-1024-768.jpg) )
Flavia's brown orbs looked up at the tall, blonde man with the striking blue eyes who stood tall and muscular in front of her. There was no malice in her eyes, no need to own him and no plans to use him as a slave or belittle him for what he had been through. All she felt was a warm compassion, a need to help him after all the things he undoubtedly must have been through.
She could not deny that he was a very handsome man in spite of the blisters, the sunburn and his wounds, but it would be wrong of her to take advantage of him. If a man wanted to be with her, he would have to come to her willingly, because he wanted her or needed her. Flavia could never bring herself to force someone into sleeping with her, especially after all the nights she herself had been taken by force by her husband.
She saw him gazing at her, and she enjoyed to see the sparks in those sparkling blue eyes. He had such beautiful eyes, and the golden hair had the color of the sun. She had never met anyone like him. All the people of Essyrn were dark in colors. Her own skin was fair as she had always been kept away from the sun. Her mother said noble women should have fair skin, and mother was always right. When she did go outside, she always brought with her a parasol, to protect her pale skin.
Living as protected as she had, she didn't know much of the entirety of the culture. What she knew she had learned from her schools, from the teachers her father had hired for her, and from the numerous slaves of his Mansion in her childhood.
She noticed his fair skin blushing as he lowered his head, a trait she found rather adorable. But she did not say anything to discourage him from looking at her. She preferred to talk to those she spoke with face to face. A slow smile filled her face, reaching her eyes when he introduced himself.
"Danning... I like that name," she said. "It is pretty."
Just like you are....
She didn't say out loud what she was thinking, didn't want him to think she was a man-eater like the other woman at the marketplace had seemed to be. And she didn't want him to believe she was planning to take advantage of him. Instead she smiled when he spoke of the North-Connlaoth.
"Ah, one of my father's servants was from North-Connlaoth," she replied. "He and I were friends, and he taught me your language. I am sorry if my pronunciation is a bit faltered though. It's been a while since last I spoke your native tongue."
She saw the wounds at his hands, the burns. Then she opened one of her bags and started taking out the herbs and the boxes of ointments she had bought at the marketplace today. From the bathroom connected to this guest room she fetched a bowl of water, placing it on the table in the guest room. She also retrieved a couple towels and some cloth that could be used for bandages.
"If you like I can help you with your wounds," she offered gently. "I promise I will be gentle, and the one who taught me to tend to wounds was a professional doctor."
She looked down, allowing him to take off his shirt without prying eyes if he wanted her to tend to his wounds.
It seemed odd that he was smiling, but he was not a man to so easily cast aside true kindness.
"Lady Flavia." He repeated her name, not to gain her attention, but to commit it better to memory. "You speak common beautifully." And here he blushed, while laughing softly at himself. "I apologize I am not fluent at all in the language here, but it seems my prayers are being answered. But yes... I would be foolish were I to deny any help. Perhaps if we both work, I will not be a hindrance to you for long."
Flavia liked the sound of his voice when he said her name. It was deep and masculine, just like the rest of him. His blushing and his laughter only made him look even more adorable. He had a pretty smile, and she loved to hear him laugh.
"Thank you, Sir Danning," she replied when he complimented her for her common tongue. "No need to apologize for not being fluid in a language. I have often found that the longer you stay in one place, the more you will learn..."
She smiled and nodded when he suggested they could both work on his wounds.
"You are no hindrance, dear Sir Danning," she said. "Which of our wounds hurt the most? We should take those first - and then work on the lesser wounds, don't you think?"
"Really, you are too kind.. It's refreshing to be around someone so humble and of noble intent. May your Gods bless you in this life and the next."
He moved to remove his clothing, not minding at all in having it removed. It was a scratchy linen given to him anyways, which was irritating his already blistered and chapped skin. But it was a painful process, one he could not hide his grunts of pain from before finally being able to shrug the piece of clothing off.
Now that his torso was exposed, his lightly toned body was revealed- as well as all of the tell tale signs of his struggle for the past few months to simply survive. It seemed he might even be beginning to starve, for parts of his rib cage was showing. But if that were of any consequence to him, he did not show it. If anything, he tried to peer back at the fresh, gaping wounds from the whip lashings. They stung and were still lightly bleeding, and had stained his clothing he had discarded. But it wasn't bleeding a lot of blood, just enough from where the linens had peeled off some of the clotting wound. Never the less, it wasn't a good feeling, but well.. atleast he was alive.
"I think the open lashes perhaps should be tended to first. Though I must apologize, I don't think I can reach them at all."
Flavia smiled when Danning blessed her for her kind behavior, shaking her head.
"I only did my duty as a fellow human being, Sir Danning," she said quietly. "There's no need to thank me. As for my Gods, I fear the only god to rule my life is Science."
She politely looked away as he moved to remove his clothing - not wanting to humiliating him by watching him undress. She stayed nearby, in case he needed help, knowing that he probably had a lot of still bleeding wounds on his back.
Only when his torso was exposed she turned to look at him. Not to admire his body, but to inspect his wounds and see how serious they were, and what kind of treatment he would need. The sight of the wounds along with the fact that parts of his rib cage was showing filled her eyes with tears of compassion, and she cursed the seller and his henchmen in the common tongue.
"Those blasted slave sellers!" she hissed, her brown eyes sparkling with rage and her nostrils flaring with anger. "Worse than animals they are. You poor dear, what did they do to you?"
She looked at his discarded clothes with worry, did not like that he had been forced to use dirty clothes on fresh wounds. She feared for an infection. But she was determined to do what she could to help....
"I agree that the open lashes should be tended to first," she agreed. "I have noticed that you are taller than me though... Forgive me, but I must ask you to lie on the bed so I can reach the wounds you can't reach..."
She opened the ceramic bowls and clay vases filled with ointment, salves and medical herbs, placing them on the nightstand by the bed where both she and Danning could reach them. She placed the bowl of water beside it, and also a pile of fresh linen cloth to wash and to bandage the wounds.
"As for your clothes, Sir Danning," she continued. "They are far too rough for your current wounds, so I will be happy if you will let me burn them. I will of course give you new clothes instead of these rags - clothes in a softer material. There are also a lot other things we need to discuss considering your health and recovery, but we can work on your wounds first..."
He laughed, which sounded odd and wheezy, but the laughter was true.
"I fear if I lay down now, I might fall asleep and never wake up." But at her suggestion to burn his clothes, his smile grew.
"I fear I am in your care. I owe you much thanks." And he moved to lay, belly down, upon the bed.
Flavia smiled when he spoke of falling asleep if he laid down.
"You poor man, you look like you could need a rest," she said. "When we have tended to your wounds, I will give you food and something to drink, and then I will recommend you to rest in your bed until you feel strong enough to stand on your feet again. Your form tells me that you have been starved, so it may take a while, but I am sure we can get you back to good health again."
She smiled when he said he was in her care. "I will take good care of you for as long as you choose to stay with us, Sir Danning," she told him gently. "Please rest assured that I do not see you as a slave, and I do not see myself as your owner. The price I paid was to buy back your freedom, to save you from those bastards who abused you. I see us as equals, two fellow human beings who both have landed at the bottom of life."
When he laid down on the bed, she took one of the clean rags on the table, dipped it in the water and gently started to cleanse the wounds. She took the ointments and the salves and applied them gently to the wounds, careful not to hurt him.
"I apologize if it hurts," she said. "I try to be gentle and not get into the wounds too much, but your backside is raw after what they did to you.... I don't know if it would be best to let the ointments start working first while you rest on your stomach, or if we should bandage you right away. What do you feel is best for you?"
**What the Hell had his wife done now?**
**Rasul had heard her arrive home some time ago, could hear her cooing compassionately at someone – and the answering murmur of a male voice. That had been enough to drive him away from his desk after a seething moment of forcing his temper under control. Could she really be so brazen as to bring a lover back while he was actually home? If that were the case, he'd kill them both – there were some things that even he couldn't tolerate...**
**As it was, he was nearly 100% certain that she was cheating on him as it was. This certainty was borne from the knowledge that she was utterly miserable in their marriage – well, if he had to be; so did she. He left his lavish office and made his way to the guest rooms down the corridor – where he had heard her last.**
**His handsome, youthful brow was creased slightly in annoyance; those deep brown eyes sparking with annoyance and weariness. Why couldn't she just behave? Why did she have to be so troublesome and disobedient? Was it too much to ask for a polite, obedient wife who never strayed and did as she was told?**
**He paused behind one door, the voices behind it clear. He could faintly hear his wife speaking softly... and took that opportunity to slam the door open, storming his way inside. The sight that greeted him drove a look of bewildered confusion to his face and a shake of his head in disbelief. His wife was tending to a slave... even worse than that, a broken, unfamiliar slave. Sharp eyes reached the tattered clothing nearby and found the deep lashes on the slave's back that suggested to him disobedience....**
**Just fantastic... his wife was trying to nurse an untrained slave. His voice took on a note of barely-contained fury, a slightly-tanned, well-manicured hand lifting to sweet his ebony hair back, away from his forehead as he tried to take in the whole unbelievable scene...**
"Wife... I sincerely hope you haven't wasted money on a worthless, broken slave..."
**His tone was possessive... he moved toward her, swiping a hand out to try and slap the rag from her hand and thwart her attempts to clean the slave's wounds. Truly... he would almost have preferred her to have snuck a lover into the house than her to have wasted money on this wretch...**
"How much did you waste on this thing?"
Danning wasn't surprised by her observation, however, at her comparison, he did raise the question, "How is it you see your life so unwell, yet are one of the few I have met with such a pure heart?" But as she tended to his wounds, he grunted a bit, even flinching every so often from her ministrations before he closed his eyes.
"It stings, but no worse than the whip."
And not enough to keep his eyes from growing heavy. He hadn't realized how much the day had taken out of him, because before he knew it- he was fast asleep.
But just as quickly had sleep claimed him, the door slammed open and he heard a male come in, demanding things angrily of Flavia. Not quite knowing what was going on, Danning was out of bed and standing between the pair defensively. Though not a fighter by any means, his blue eyes begged him not to hurt her, and to take the time to listen to what was going on-
But it was all in the common tongue, but more observantly so, the common tongue of the North. Of Connlaoth. Though one would not have to take a hint by his language to know where he had come. The tell tale signs of his sun burned flesh would be enough- and his dusted, mess of blonde hair, that now fell in unruly ringlets about his shoulder.
A sad look appeared in Flavia's eyes when Danning asked how she saw her life so unwell. But if she was so purehearted? She didn't know. She just felt a special connection with the poor man she had met in the market. They were both prisoners of their worlds.
"You and I have a lot in common," she said as she gently tended to his wounds. "While you were so savagely sold at the slave market, I was sold by my father to my husband and his family. Don't let these luxurious surroundings fool you. A cage is still a cage even if it is made from gold."
She tried to treat Danning's woulds a bit more gentle when he said it stung. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful," she said.
Moments later she heard the familiar footsteps of her husband in the corridor and froze in fear. A helpless whimper escaped her lips, an involuntarily reaction after too many run-in with Rasul's fists in the past. For a moment those mild, brown doe-eyes expressed genuinely fear. Then she pulled herself together, forcing herself to meet her husband with a smile as he stormed into the room.
She wiped her hands on her apron when he entered the room, allowing him to take in the sight of the poor man on the bed. Perhaps he would, by observing for himself, see what she was doing, and why. But his next words revealed that her husband did not have the same compassion for poor Sir Danning as she had.
"No, husband," she replied softly, sending him a warm glance where her tears of compassion could still be seen. "I have spent money on saving a human life... If you had been in the situation I saw at the market today, I would have done the exact same thing - just because I care for you...
Rasul, this is Sir Danning, and he comes from the North. You should have seen the cruelty with which he was treated at the Market. Those slave traders are no better than beasts.. If I had not intervened when I did, they would undoubtedly have killed him. He can still be saved though, with gentle care, proper food and some rest."
She cringed when he moved towards her, expecting a slap to her face. But instead his hand hit the rag, which flew from her hand and landed in the bowl of water with a soft splatting sound.
To her surprise poor Danning rose from his bed, placing his form protectively in front of her in an attempt to shield her from the wrath of her husband. She was touched by Danning's courage, but at the same time she was worried that her husband would turn his wrath to Danning instead. As an unofficial doctor she could see that the man had already taken more beatings than he could handle at the moment.
Flavia placed a gentle hand on Danning's arm, looking up at him with the same concern a doctor shows to a patient. "Thank you, Sir Danning," she told him gently. "But I can take it from here. Please return to your bed and try to get some rest. You need to regain your strength..."
Turning to her husband she looked pleadingly up at him. "You have never believed in my abilities as a doctor," she said. "Please give me this chance to show you what I am capable of and prove my worth to you. We can save a lot of money on letting me tending to the sick in our household than spending our money on expensive doctors who knows less than I do. Give me this one chance to try to cure him. If I fail I promise you I will never ask you for permission to become a doctor again..."
She stepped closer to her husband, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She needed clothes for Danning, and her husband was the only male in the household who could give her what she needed.
"I also need some new clothes for him," she told Rasul gently. "Could I please have some of your old clothes, some of those you no longer use? I will make it up to you somehow... You may ask me what you wish for in return... If it is in my power to give it to you, you will have it..."
**It was unbelievably that Flavia could be so careless with money... what was the point of a slave that couldn't work after all? There was an angry shake of his head; words, for a moment, lost to him as he tried to take in just how it was best to react to everything being presented to him. Just how stupid could she be?**
**Unbelievably, Flavia kept her tone relatively polite – there wasn't the usual barrage of insults and retorts that she used and that often caused him to retaliate physically in frustration. Instead, her voice was soft; her gaze back to the wounded slave sickeningly compassionate. She spoke of the man as if he were equal to them – a sheer fallacy, of course. Slaves deserved their lot in life... it came from being born inferior or losing their freedom via some past crime or another. As far as Rasul was concerned, slavery was something that was only inflicted on the deserving and so Danning did not deserve any kindness or compassion.**
"He is a slave, Flavia! Only you would be gullible enough to treat him as anything but what he is! You speak as if I care of the condition you found him in. Slave-traders will try and tug on the heartstrings of the weak-hearted. They obviously say you coming."
**There was a flash of anger across those deep chocolate-brown eyes and an aggravated sigh. He had at least slapped the rag from her... but it was immeasurably difficult not to aim another slap at her. A deep breath was taken, a commendable effort to rein in his temper and prevent himself from physically pulling her from the room and locking her away while he sorted out this mess...**
"You did not answer my question. How much did you waste on this?"
**Her avoidance of the question suggested that it was far more than was reasonable for a slave that would not physically able to work for some time. Likely she had not taken into account the medicines he would need or the food he would consume while he was useless. Equally, her attempts to flatter him into a better mood were not missed – but they were met with a roll of his eyes and a hissed remark under his breath, intended to hurt her feelings and wound her.**
"Your mother taught you no common sense at all, did she?"
**It was then that the wounded slave dared to stand between him and his wife... the anger intensified in Rasul's gaze, his expression turning from fury towards Flavia to confused bewilderment that this wretched creature dare attempt to stand up to him. His fist clenched and he straightened up, preparing himself to issue an attack on Danning... great, so not only had she bought an injured slave... but one that was untrained as well. Thankfully, before Rasul could move, Flavia had quickly spoken to the other man, that gentle compassion still in his voice. As soon as the slave was out of the way again, his glare was directed back to Flavia with that same disbelief...**
"You would do very well to remind him that he was brought with my money... unless he wishes to be evicted from this house."
**Oh Gods... here we go again. More jabbering about her foolish desire to be a doctor. So... this was why she had purchased the disobedient slave? She wanted something to practice on. He had made his opinions on her delusional dreams very clear in the past – he'd had no desire to sponsor a woman in a man's occupation and, if he had his way, she would remain passively out of sight for the rest of her life. Still, as she pressed herself closer to him and rested her hand on his arm; he allowed another frustrated sigh. He felt his resolve almost crumble...**
**...right up until she dropped the bombshell that she wanted clothes for the slave. HIS clothes. Was she utterly out of her mind? She quickly chased up this ridiculous request by adding that she'd do something for him in return. Swallowing his anger, his sharp minded managed to drift cruelly from possibility to possibility. One idea sprang to mind... one that would likely drive the social Flavia quite insane...**
"Until he is healthy and able to work, you are not to leave this place. If you need something for his care, one of the servants will get it for you. There will be no functions or parties outside of this place that mean I have to care for him. You wished for an opportunity to prove your skills to me... so this is it. Your single opportunity. If you wish for his freedom after he is healed, then I will require something else from you – he was bought with MY money, after all. Rightfully he belongs to me, not you."
**There was a cruel smile, this would be maddening enough for his young wife... but at least it was likely to stop her bringing home anymore unfortunate strays who played on a naïve heart and compassionate nature...**
"...deal?"
Danning could only guess by their tones of what they spoke, but even in the end, the smile Rasul gave to Flavia made his stomach drop. But he didn't move from where he stood at Flavia's side, but remained alert and patient in his silence.
One look at her husband's face revealed that he did not show the same compassion for the poor slaves at the slave market as she did. Not for a moment had it occurred to her that she could purchase Danning to do slave labor at the Mansion. No, to her he was not a slave, but a man that had been through more suffering than anyone could imagine. When she paid for him it was not to buy herself a slave, but to buy this poor man his freedom.
Perhaps there was a tiny voice inside her that kept her from throwing insults at her husband this time, or to quarrel with him. She had a feeling that arguing with him would not get her anywhere, especially since she would need his help to get clothes for the poor man.
"Rasul, please," she said mildly when he spoke of her trip to the slave market, calling Danning a slave. "If you had heard the cracks of that whip when they hit him, and had heard his barely audible whimpers of pain... If I had not showed up when I did, the monsters at that market would have killed him! Surely you do not wish a wife that is completely devoid of showing compassion to a human in need? What kind of mother would I be?"
She looked up at him without anger or spite in her voice, only this pleading face expression as if she still had a hope that he had a heart under his harsh exterior. She had to gather all her courage before revealing to him how much she had paid for this man.
"I paid 3000 gold for his freedom," she said, waiting for an explosion to happen. "If you had been standing there, about to be sold in such a horrid way, I would gladly have paid the double..."
His hissed remark about no common sense hurt her feelings, but she knew better than to start a quarrel with him when she needed his help with Danning. She knew that Danning would not be allowed to stay if he was a cause of a quarrel between husband and wife, so for now she silenced her tongue and kept the cruel words hidden in her heart.
"According to you, my husband, women are not allowed to have brains..." she replied softly. "Thus I was trying to follow my heart instead..."
She looked pleadingly up at him when he spoke of Danning being evicted from this house. As a doctor she knew that Danning would probably die if his wounds did not get a chance to heal before he had to leave.
"I will remind him, my husband. Please do not be angered with him for what I have done..."
She waited in silence, nervous for what her husband might demand from her in return for clothes for Danning. She knew she had no choice, as she had no other men she could ask for such a favor. Hoping to melt his heart, she snuggled into his arms, resting her head against his chest as she looked pleadingly up at him. For a moment she almost looked like the loving wife she was supposed to be.
When he finally spoke, her eyes widened from shock as she heard his demands. Not being allowed to leave this place? No functions or parties outside, not even being able to visit her sister on her birthday party? She screamed inwardly, even if not a sound was allowed to escape her lips. Her husband had found a punishment that really hurt the social butterfly Flavia. But for Danning's sake she had to accept the deal.
She looked over at Danning, her heart bleeding for him as she saw his wounds and his blisters after the rough treatment he had been through. She knew in her heart that she could not allow him to leave in this conditions. And Rasul had said that her house arrest was only temporary, right? Until Danning was healed and capable of working again?
She looked up at her husband, her brown orbs burning with tears she tried to hold back.
"If I agree to these terms, my husband, - if I agree to stay at home like you ask me to, do you promise to give Danning a set of your old clothes? The ones he has will only tear up his wounds...."
Danning could not stand the tensions growing. He could see the pleading look of his caretaker, and the cruelty burning in her husband's eyes. No doubt this man was no better than the lot he had already met, but he stilled his tongue as best he could-
But he wasn't not a quiet man by any means, and thoroughly believed one had to use their voice to speak in truth.
He dared to step even closer to Flavia.
"Please.. do nothing to harm yourself for my sake," he pleaded, but he knew not the details in which they spoke, so again, he was forced to hold his breath and simply listen to words not understood.
**He and his wife would likely have gotten along immeasurably better if she wasn't so prone to being soft-hearted and susceptible to every single sob-story that came her way. If she had her way, she would likely have bought every single slave that had given her a doe-eyed look! It was a tendency in her that needed to be quashed before it brought financial ruin upon the both of them. Still, at least if she sent them both to the poor house, he could end their marriage on the grounds of insanity...**
**She at least had the presence of mind to resist arguing with him – the chances were that if she had started to throw insults and threats at him that he would have retaliated physically and manhandled her back to her room. She was correct, at least, in her belief that he cared nothing for the man she had rescued or what fate would have befallen him had she not intervened. As far as he was concerned, he was simply a broken asset... a waste of money that could not be justified.**
"If I had heard those things, it would not have troubled me. He was born to the life he has... I was not."
**Remarkably, the expected tirade at her revealing the slave's cost didn't come... instead, there was only a flash of angry annoyance across his eyes and a disbelieving shake of his head. When he spoke again, his voice was low and resentful; a dreadful hiss that barely touched the air between them...**
"...From now on, you will receive any money you... 'need' from me. You evidently can't be trusted with it if it's not closely monitored. Your heart is obviously as foolish as your brain."
**Thankfully, Danning's attempted intervention did prevent anymore hurtful words aimed at Flavia – but only very briefly. Instead, his ferocious tone was turned instead to the slave – how dare he try and step between the two of them? It was a struggle to resist shoving the wounded man away from him in disgust... but he managed to refrain such an instinct. Despite the stupidity of the whole situation, it might yet bear fruit. He had quickly found an appealing punishment in banning Flavia from any of her previous social outings – and the hurt expression across her face evidenced that he had struck gold with that particular cruelty...**
**There was a nasty smile as he let the realisation of what she had agreed to sink in. Staying in this place until the slave had healed would probably drive her mad before too long. In fact, he was almost tempted to try and ensure that Danning's recuperation took longer than it would already... As she turned her gaze back to him and shakily asked for his help with Danning. A shrug lifted muscular shoulders, that nasty smile remaining as he turned back towards the door...**
"Yes. The maids will help you find them."
**With that, he disappeared back into the corridor and made his way irritably back to his office, slamming the door behind him. For all he cared, she could play nurse all she wanted... it would never make her a genuine medical professional in his eyes.**