@SanctifiedSavage
There was a flower tucked into her hair.
It was a rather small detail, especially considering her current circumstances. But Nathara had learned that it was often the smallest things, the seemingly insignificant, that could turn the tide of a battle.
And that's what it felt like, the arena. A battle. It was as much a clash of wills as it was of strength and skill. So it was no coincidence that she had been allowed to keep the small bloom when it happened to fall from a merchant princess's confection of an outfit in one of her earlier fights. She wasn't quite sure herself what had possessed her to snatch up the flower before its petals had been completely stained with the sand and dust of the arena, but still she had.
She tilted her head and watched her opponent's eyes skate over her warily. A veritable behemoth of a man, clad in little more than a loincloth to expose every inch of rippling muscle that covered his body. She could already see the gears turning behind his eyes, practically hear his derision and confusion:
This is who I must fight? A little girl with no weapon and a flower in her hair?Nathara smiled, and her pure white eyes narrowed to cunning slits. She slid her left foot back, sinking into a defensive stance with her arms raised to protect herself-- all the better to play into the misconceptions she hoped her opponent held.
The other gladiator suddenly roared, charging forward. Nathara did not move, just stared him down as he came closer...closer...now!
With the speed and grace of a striking cobra, the young woman threw herself into the air and arced over the gladiator's left shoulder, twisting in the air to wrap her legs around his neck as she bent toward the ground. Surprise was on her side, and all it took was a deft shift in her balance to change the trajectory of her leap and send them both crashing to the ground, slamming the mountain of a man's head into the earth while she herself slipped easily back to her feet and danced away.
She turned to face him again, once more sinking back into that innocuous, defensive stance.
Let's get this over with.
Tadala's 'job' took her all over the place. Her most recent of travels to an odd jewel in the middle of an otherwise hot place. Or so that's what other people liked to refer to it. The caravan she'd traveled with had been full of stories, of promise and profit and talk of marvelous things. Arriving in Essyrn, though, she had to wonder if she was missing something. Though there was greenery, after the vast wash of desert, there was also so much brown.
And sand.
It made her miss the forested mountain of her home more dearly than before. Perhaps it was because she'd been looking forward to something... more? Built up expectations that could not have been met.
After finding herself a place to stay, she invariably found her way to one of the entertainment places. The arena. It was one of the things the other caravan travelers had spoke of. Where great warriors fought and one could find other people of promise. Which was what she was there for, after all. She found a seat among the others gathered to watch, higher up and a little away from the others. The Sect member didn't want to draw unwanted attention to herself while she came into the middle of a fight.
It was an interesting concept. Having two creatures fight for the enjoyment of onlookers. She wouldn't say she particularly
found it appealing, but maybe she would find someone who... caught her eye.
@DragonSong
The fight did not last long. Despite the crowds Nathara had started to draw over her years in the arena, no one ever really came to see her fight, not the way they did with other gladiators: they'd learned not to expect the showmanship, the spattered blood and shouted battle cries.
With Nathara, victory was quick and it was decisive. Other fighters may have called her arrogant for thinking so, but she was aware of her value-- people came to see her, not necessarily the fight. She was an oddity, and in Essyrn such a thing was well worth its weight in gold.
Even she, however, did not expect to be seen quite so clearly as she was by the end of that particular fight. Arms locked around her opponent's neck while she perched on his back, pressing him down into the sand, she'd rather thought her victory was certain, when the other gladiator got a sudden burst of a second wind and reached back in an attempt to grab her. His grasping fingers were weak, only succeeding in getting a hold on a handful of fabric covering her side, but it was enough that when she slammed the palm of her hand into the back of his neck, his arm jerked and tore the cloth, revealing the glittering scales that encircled her waist.
Nathara hissed and leaped back from the no unconscious gladiator. A gong was struck, signaling her victory, but she didn't pay it any mind, turning on her heel as striding away back across the sand to the tunnels that would lead her under the arena. She frowned at the tear in her tunic-- that was unfortunate. It wasn't like she really had much chance to get herself a change of clothes.
The fight was a spectacle, sure, but Tadala wasn't certain she understood the entire point of it. People were plenty easy to kill. So while she watched, her interest wasn't exactly focused on the fight. She didn't expect anything flashy, nor would she have known what that even would've been. It wasn't until the end of the fight, when the cloth was torn away and she immediately recognized
scales here in all of the places, that her interest sharpened and she sat up straighter.
The end of the fight was all too quick and the scaled fighter was already leaving. Tadala was on her feet and making her way down the steps of the stadium. She didn't have to think too much about what she was doing. After all, her job out amongst the ignorant was to find those of note. Of interest and worth. Signs were the very sort of thing she was looking for and that one had been quite an obvious sign. Now it was up to her to figure out the worth and weight of it.
Getting to where the fighters were kept was a bit more work than she'd wanted it to be. Finding them, paying for access, then having a short, twisted, large eared creature lead her down the path to the one she wanted to see. They kept the fighters in odd cages clustered together beneath the arena itself. Some were owned by those who had more wealth then others, and the cages were larger. More elaborate than others. Tadala had absolutely no idea what determined such a thing. All she cared about was talking to the one she'd seen just shortly before. With the scales. Or what she believed to be scales.
@DragonSong
As a slave owned by the Colosseum, Nathara was kept in one of the simpler enclosures almost directly beneath the arena itself.
She sat with her back pressed to one corner of the cage, one leg drawn up toward her chest and her arm resting lazily on her knee, head tipped slightly to the side as she let her brow rest against the bars closing in on her right side. She seemed...bored.
With a soft, whispering hiss, she extended her other hand toward a shadowed alcove not too far from her cage. The hiss was answered with the slip and slide of scales against stone as Shakah slithered toward her. The massive king cobra arched himself up to slip through the bars of the cage and come where she beckoned, resting his head in her open palm for a moment before he crept up her arm to drape a majority of his not inconsiderable length around her shoulders.
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala's walk was brief but enlightening. There were so many beneath the arena. There must be a plethora of fights held regularly. Her interest was idle on those she passed until, eventually, the hobbled creature led her to the one she had wanted to see.
If there had been some question or curiosity, it was peaked when the light from her guide spilled more so over the gladiator and the snake draped around her form. Tadala studied her briefly before leaning to take the light from her guide and dismiss him with a simple hand wave. It wasn't like she'd be leaving with anyone today and she could find her way back.
It was only after they were alone, her attention never moving from the snake, that she spoke, "We have something in common." Though she spoke the common tongue fluently enough, her words were accented and soft. She extended one of her pale, green hands – the one not holding the oil lantern – and a slender, black cobra slid out from her wide sleeve and coiled comfortably around her wrist. It was a small snake with scales that glittered like polished gems.
Nathara lifted her eyes and blinked slowly when the woman spoke, her burning, pure white gaze as measured and laconic as the cobra wrapped around her neck.
It would not do to show her hand. She had no idea why this strange woman wished to speak with her, but she was under no illusions that simply because they had "something in common" meant she was a friend.
"...Perhaps." She turned her gaze back down to Shakah as the massive serpent slid down from her shoulders to coil in her lap. "What do you want with me, mistress?" Her own voice was much more heavily accented than the strangers, though oddly not with the typical Essyrni sound-- rather there was something soft and hissing behind her consonants, and a gentle lilt to the cadence of her voice that seemed to hearken to something entirely other.
Tadala continued to watch the small, glittering black cobra wrapped around her hand while she spoke. "I just wanted to speak with you. I am new here and am interested in those as foreign to the place as I am. You don't seem a native." Only then did her gaze flick to the gladiator. "I'll confess ignorance though. I did only just arrive. There could be a plethora of your sort in the city and I've just not yet stumbled upon them."
All of that was more or less true. Tadala didn't know too much about the city by large and she did want to find someone she had something in common with. She was also in the unique position to help the gladiator – if the other woman wanted it, of course.
The gladiator smiled coldly. "No one comes down to these cages with just
interest, my lady. They come to buy," she told the stranger calmly, looking away again, eyes unfocused as they traced the dancing shadows that torchlight cast upon the walls.
She didn't feel the need to confirm the woman's assumption that she wasn't native. She wouldn't be in the arena if she wasn't
exotic-- though that had only happened because she fought far too fiercely to be an easy house slave or bed warmer.
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala wouldn't admit to ignorance when it came to the gladiators and the customs around them, so she didn't correct the woman when she suggested that Tadala was there to buy. That would only be the case if she thought the gladiator worth the coin she had. The faintly green skinned woman watched the other, studying her, Tadala's own expression passive and neutral.
"I have no need of a gladiator. I do not intend on staying long. Tell me, do you like it here?" Tadala was legitimately curious. Perhaps the strange woman enjoyed this odd form of entertainment.
Natha scoffed. She lifted one wrist, rattling the chain that bound her to the floor of her cage pointedly.
"Does it look like I'm here of my own free will, lady?" she asked, for the first time a hint of genuine emotion slipping into her tone. She looked away again as Shakah slid up to twine around her arm. "Don't ask stupid questions."
She knew she'd probably be punished later for speaking in such a manor to a freewoman, but in the moment she honestly didn't care. She was tired, and she didn't understand what this woman wanted from her. "If that is all, can you just leave me alone?" she murmured after a moment, closing her eyes and letting her brow rest against the bars.
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala watched the other, studied the chains, and more pointedly the snake. To the cobra, she smiled just a little, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Her head canted just a little when the gladiator disparaged her place and deflected, proclaiming it a stupid question. "Who do you fight, then? What is the reason?" If she really hated it, why bother at all? Was there a hope that one day it would end? What would that end be like?
Tadala crouched in place so she could get a better look at the other in the flickering light. "How do you see all of this playing out?" There was no reason to leave her alone. The gladiator couldn't dismiss her.
Nathara just stared at her.
"Where the hells are you from, lady?" she muttered, sounding somehow both amazed and irritated. "Do you not
get how slavery works? I fight because if I don't, they'll throw me away. Which means I end up dead or worse."
She didn't bother to answer the second question. She
didn't see this playing out; maybe she had once, years ago, but by now she was resigned to the fact that she would die in the Colosseum, either fighting in the arena or wasting away in the pits beneath it.
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala didn't see the point in answering the turn-about question. Away was the easiest answer, but it was also obvious. Rather, she narrowed her eyes a little. "Yes, yes. I understand, if you don't fight, you'll die. What is worse, though? If you do not see a way out and you do not like where you are, why bother fighting at all?"
She wanted to know what drove the woman. Was she worth investing in at all? Surely there was something that drove her, something to fight even if she saw no end to it. Was it purely survival?
"...Leave me alone."
Nathara turned away from her. "If all you're going to do is torment me, you can bloody well get out." She hadn't spoken to her "betters" like this since she'd been captured and brought to Essyrn; she'd learned better, learned the cost of it.
But she just didn't care. This foreigner didn't seem like she was going to punish her for speaking out, so she took the risk and said what she thought. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know what this is like, you can't even
imagine. So quit your preaching, and unless you have anything
useful to say to me,
leave me the hells alone."
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala continued to watch her for a breath or two. Feeling, in a way, sorry for her. She felt like a caged animal. Unwilling to break, unable to change the situation, but unwilling to die. Hopeless, too. After a moment, she stood and idly brushed off her clothes of imagined dirt and sand.
"I see."
She would need to learn more about how gladiators functioned in the city. Need to figure out a way best to interact with this woman without fully tipping her hand and simply setting the woman free. Tadala was not there for charity, after all. "Should you decide you have answers to my questions, be sure to send for me. I would very much like to hear them."
Tadala watched a moment longer, studying the cobra and conveying her respect, before she picked up the lantern and turned to go. She'd leave Nathara alone with her thoughts, to mill over what she'd said. Then she'd come back. Sometimes, time was her ally.
Nathara did not even bother to watch her go, closing her eyes as she allowed some of the tension to bleed from her shoulders and leaned more heavily against the bars of her cage.
Shakah, on the other hand, raised his head to watch as the stranger left with the barest flicker of interest in those flat, crimson eyes. The lower half of his body wrapped gently around Nathara's waist, but he rose up and flared his hood as he watched her go.
Perhaps this could be interesting.
Tadala let the women mull over things for two days. In that time, she attended more fights. Making sure to be there for Nathara's, were she to have any, but she also spent that time studying the place she'd arrived in. Learning the rules and making some well placed bets that increased her own income significantly. She'd already arrived wealthy, but she was learning that there was never enough in a place like this.
Two days.
She orchestrated a fight on the third, setting up a friendly challenge with one of the local owners. He had brought in a new beast and he'd wanted some sport. Tadala suggested Nathara. She'd become friends with the man, or friendly if that were a better term, and he agreed. Bets were made, drinks were poured while they sat in exclusive seats under colored silk to shield them from the harsh afternoon sun. Not that sun bothered Tadala. Given where she came from and what she was, heat felt good. But the man next to her proclaimed he burned easy.
She suspected he liked to display his wealth to new friends.
The new pet he wanted to try out was a great furred beast with stripes and claws. A tiger, he called it. Kept hungry so it would be fierce in battle. Tadala felt bad for the animal. But, if Nathara won the fight, Tadala would win Nathara. A necessary sacrifice.
Nathara wasn't typically used for animal fights. The people in charge of her matches said it wasn't a good enough showcase of her particular talents; they preferred to pit her against hulking gladiators twice her size and watch her choke the life from them.
So she was surprised when she saw the tiger, surprised and suddenly, shatteringly sorrowful. The cat was another lost jungle creature, brought to this place against his will, confused and angry and starving and alone.
She stepped back from the creature instinctively, casting her gaze up to the box where she knew its owner sat. Was that...?
Her expression abruptly shut down. It seemed suddenly clear to her that the strange woman had only been playing with her that day beneath the arena; she clearly had friends in high places here, she had no right to feign ignorance of the Colosseum.
The fight was almost too quick, offering very little entertainment for the spectators. Nathara subdued the tiger with seeming ease, darting around the massive cat in a blur of dark hair and glowing eyes until he was so disoriented he could hardly fight back as she pounced onto his back and wrapped her arms around him.
However, when the call went up from the fight master, the signal for her to complete the kill, she stepped back. The tiger dropped to the sand of the arena, panting and confused, but alive.
She lifted her head and set her jaw. Her eyes were not on her master, but on the woman. I know she had something to do with this.
Eyes flashing, she straightened her shoulders and, for the first time since she'd been placed in the arena, said, "No."
The fight wasn't exactly a fight. Tadala didn't gloat though – she didn't have the presence of mind and it wasn't in her personality. She had suspected the gladiator would win. Why else would she have bet as she had? Whatever show the others might've been hoping for, though, she didn't understand either. A fight was a fight.
Her friend, though, seemed displeased. Tadala suspected he would not wish to lose his new pet, or the investment of it, so soon after purchase. She smiled, fake and pretty. "Since we had expected a friendly match, there's no reason to lose so much coin over it, hm? I'll take the gladiator, and the beast. You can keep the profit I would've made off the victory."
He shifted anxiously. Not wishing to part with something new but unwilling to lose either. Besides, she'd sweetened it. Tadala didn't care for gold or coin. Not in the same way the people here did. His red faced turned to a smile and the charm returned. "I knew you were a good woman," he agreed, lifting one of the cups to toast her. Then he looked toward the arena and, though he smiled, spoke with some annoyance. "Clear the trash from the field."
Tadala turned her attention back to the gladiator, and the cat. Neither would be harmed, more or less, and would be brought to the cage she'd rented beneath the arena for her impending victory. "You're a good man," she chimed hollowly.
Nathara was beaten before she was dragged back to the cage. She'd expected that, really; she'd disobeyed, what else could she have expected?
What she had not been prepared for was to be led to a different cage from the usual, and that the exhausted tiger was thrown in with her. She skittered back to a corner of the metal bars and stared at the cat warily. She had grown up hunting the same jungle as this animal's kin, and she knew how dangerous they could be. Without the room to maneuver in the cage, he could easily kill her.
But the massive cat seemed too tired to put up a fight. He dragged himself into the opposite corner and stared at warily, but neither made a move to attack.
Eventually, cautiously, Nathara relaxed her stance slightly and tried to reach out with her gift. Snakes had always been the creatures she understood best, but her father had taught her that all beastspeaking was connected, in a way. She didn't expect to converse with the tiger, but perhaps she could convince him that she meant no harm.
She wasn't sure if it worked, or if the animal was simply exhausted, but after a few minutes he collapsed onto his side and slipped into sleep.
It took some time for Tadala to shake her friend, but she played nice. Apparently having connections was also important in the city, and though she didn't exactly like him, he was useful. They drank, watched a couple more fights where he showed off what she supposed were impressive creatures, and she said the appropriate words to flatter. The first fight was forgotten and they parted with her friend feeling like he'd come out the better in the meeting. Perhaps, monetarily, he had.
Tadala's cage was set far, and was larger than the others. Likely meant for creatures far larger than either the tiger or Nathara.
By the time she arrived, it was late in the evening. She was tailed by to short, scaled servants. She didn't know what they were, but she preferred them to the soft skinned, half naked women that seemed so prominent. They spoke in soft whispers and seemed to take to her as well as she, them. They carried a bucket of water, meat for the tiger, bandages, and brushes. Tadala set the lantern down near the entrance to the cage.
The tiger stirred, but he was still weak. On guard but wounded. She made a soft, cooing sound while she opened the cage, then gestured so one of the servants would go in. This one had the meat, which they led with so he could eat, and the bandages and brushes to tend to the rest of him.
That done, Tadala turned her attention to Nathara and gestured to the other scaled attendant. They shuffled forward and presented the water and linen bandages. "Should you need them," she said.
Nathara was jerked from a light doze by the sudden commotion in the cage. She shuffled back from the strange, scaled servants, but when she caught sight of Tadala her expression hardened from confusion to something much colder.
"I should've known it was you," she sighed, pressing a little more firmly back against the bars of the cage. "What do you want with me?"
@SanctifiedSavage
The scaled servant that had presented Nathara with the water and cloth bandages shuffled out and returned a moment later with a small stool for Tadala to sit on. He then moved to help his companion with the tiger, who tolerated their presence while eating.
Tadala adjusted the layers of robes she wore to sit, facing Nathara. "You say that as though it is a bad thing. I saved you and the feline." She gestured toward the cat without looking. "If you want me to return you to your previous cage and owner, I will, but you seemed unhappy with your previous arrangement." Her bright green eyes studied Nathara. "Have you given any more thought to my questions?"
Thara just stared at her, eyes cold and expression unreadable. "Why in the hells would I do that?" she replied evenly. There wasn't even really any anger in her tone; she genuinely did not see any point in her conversations with this woman.
This woman who, as far as she was concerned, had either pretended to be ignorant of the world and life Nathara was trapped within in some bizarre attempt at garnering trust or sympathy, or was genuinely too out of touch to understand it.
The gladiator honestly didn't know which one might be worse.
"What do you want with me?" she repeated, though this time there was the barest trace of a hiss to her voice; not the kind of hiss a human may add to their tone in irritation or pain, but a clear, scraping rattle in the back of her throat that betrayed a hint of her heritage.
@SanctifiedSavage
Tadala idly looked toward the feline, watching as the scaled attendants took care of the wounds. Ever careful, given they were dealing with a beast that eyed them just as warily. When Nathara thought to respond, she looked back.
And sighed.
"You must have a very difficult time understanding when an opportunity has fallen in your lap. Perhaps it is this place. I am still learning how it all works, but you are still a puzzle to me. You are upset I speak with you and unhappy in your current situation. I free you from your previous cage and now you seem just as upset." Tadala waved a hand a little and gestured to the cage door. "If it is your freedom you want, go. Your disdain and distrust aren't worth the trouble. I do hope the city treats you better than I am."
Figuring this was likely the dismissal that the gladiator had wanted, Tadala shifted in her stool so she could face the tiger and the scaled servants. They had surreptitiously been paying attention but were dutifully not looking in their direction. The tiger, now fed and on the med, laid down to rest. With their tasks complete, the pair moved to Tadala and sat, waiting for what she might have of them.
Nathara
did hiss then, a rattling sound that crawled up her throat and slipped through bare teeth as she glared at the woman.
"Oh yes," she spat, "forgive me for not tripping over myself in gratitude now that you have freed me from one cage only to place me in your own." She slammed her hand into the bars, making the whole cage rattle, and pushed herself to her feet. Her eyes glowed dangerously.
"You are either stupid, or cruel," she spat, towering over Tadala as much as she could manage. "If you do not know that I am marked, that I am a
known slave, telling me to go is foolishness. If you do, taunting me with the prospect of freedom is cruelty." Her hands shook at her sides as she curled them into firsts. "So which is it, stranger? Will you kill me here, or let the guards do it if I try to run? Or do you simply prefer to watch me break?"
The hiss and snarl was thick in her voice now, doubled and echoed by the massive cobra that crawled his way up the side of the cage to slip inside, circling her feet and raising his head almost to waist height on the young woman, hood flared in a territorial display.
Nathara glared at the woman, her whole body shaking with rage. "I will not be your plaything," she spat. "I have submitted to domination in this place for the sake of survival, but I will
not be manipulated. I will not be toyed with. You may beat me, stave me, kill me, but
you will not break me."
@SanctifiedSavage