For rain to fall when the sun was shining was an omen – a warning to the fair, common folk that tricksters and demons were scheming sweet schisms under the brilliant summer sky. They took advantage of this tumultuous time, when the rain and the sun did not agree with each other, and took to the shadows of the world, hiding, smiling. For pranksters knew that during a sunshower, the persistent sun and the fickle rain bickered over when it would be their turn to rule, and so, having come to no agreement, they attempted to outdo the other in a childish display of power and greed.
At least, that was what Gemini's superstitious nannies had told him when he was young, before returning to his books and tomes, guiding his attention back to his lesson, where it belonged. Back when he had been young, he had swallowed superstitions hungrily, believing them to be true simply because his elders had told him so. He was smart enough now to know that the phenomena of a sunshower was simply that – a scientific phenomena, but he couldn't help but smile to himself, wondering if he should be so lucky (or unlucky) to run into such a prankster today.
Normally, he avoided any weather that wasn't ideal – especially rain. It dampened his hair and clothes, and washed the perfume and rosewater away from his person, normalizing his appearance. But this wasn't just any rain, it was a sunshower, rain that poured from the skies while the sun, ignorant to the rain's persistence, still shone to its heart's content. The rain was naught but a light drizzle – enough to send maidens searching for their parasols, but not enough for merchants and peddlers to close up their shops, and close down the bazaars. For Gemini Stone never wandered the streets unless there were things to waste his money on. And so, as city life lives on, Gemini Stone lives on as well.
He was riding through town today, upon a rose grey colored steed, with a pure white mane and tail. The steed, Michaelis, was the tallest in House Stone's stable, and perhaps one of the more regal breeds, if only because the horse seemed to know how to keep quiet, and how to walk at just the right gait to set itself apart from the other common breeds. Gemini held onto the reins with only one hand, the other grasping a white parasol above his head, acting as a small shelter from the rain. As always, he was dressed in his finest – his eight elemental rings slid on various fingers, his favorite purple button-down blazer with white fur trim, which had been cleaned with rosewater before he'd left home. His hair had managed to stay dry, despite the sunshower – it fell in layers, brushing against the nape of his neck. Poised, Gemini carried himself delicately, as anyone should carry a work of art.
As Gemini approached the bazaar, he dismounted his horse, and gave Michaelis as stern look, which made the horse tighten up its posture, stand still and erect. He would be back for the steed later, for one couldn't shop properly on horseback, could they? He gave the horse an appreciative rub on the nose, and head off, parasol still in hand. He thought – he had been lucky to dodge the butler today. Normally, he'd be right on his coattails, watching his every move, studying his every purchase, with a detailed report to give back to his father. He didn't need any of that today, not ever, really – but especially not today, when he was in the market for slaves.
There were many stands for them – many slaves chained by their hands (not with iron, of course, but probably light steel) but besides that, they were mostly free, wandering near stalls near their 'owner,' trying to catch the eye of a new master who might purchase them, and take them away from the bazaar.
The heir caught sight of a rather small slave stand, one who had put up a shelter to protect his wards from the rain. This shelter, however, was quite extreme. While others merely provided small tents to shield their wards from the rain, this slave owner encased them all in a large pen, with metal bars keeping them in. The slave owner stood in front of the pen's locked door, and seemed to be guarding it, rather than looking for others who might be interested in his wards.
Judging by how far the stand was from the heart of the bazaar, and the fact that he was the only vendor to cage his slaves with metal bars, Gemini could guess that this man had no intention of selling them. Oh, Gemini knew their type – men who'd keep slaves with the intent of selling them and making a large profit, but couldn't find the heart to let them go. They became too accustomed to them, and soon, the thought of selling them became unthinkable. So they kept them, to dream of them, to fantasize of them, filling sleepless nights with lucid dreams of all the reckless things they wished they could do – the things they would do, if they walked a step closer to hell.
Gemini strolled up to the stand, tapped an idle knuckle on the metal and cringed – iron. There was a small concentrate of iron in these bars – his pure fae blood could feel it, could already feel its taint seeping into its skin. For a normal Serenian, such a small concentrate might not be noticeable – but this was Fallial, land of the fae. He kept quiet about it however, turning towards the slave vendor, one hand on his hip, smiling easily. And yet, something deeper lurked behind that smile.
"I would make an offer for one of your boys, vendor, but you seem to be quite fond of them..." He ran his hand down the metal bars again, slowly, letting that eerie chill seep deep in his skin. Iron, this was definitely iron – and if it wasn't, he was not Gemini Stone. "Setting them in metal with bits of iron, after all, is a bit of an extreme, don't you think?"
The eldest Stone took this time to look into the cage – most of them were normal, well-enough looking – only one stood out, only one had that spark, one that set him apart from most of the other slaves Gemini kept at home – one with silver hair and bright blue eyes, with pointed, exotic ears. Was he elven, he wondered – or a stronger brand of fae? Either way, it didn't matter – he was as good as his. Gemini tossed a wink at him, and held up his hand toward the slave vendor, revealing the small particles of iron that had stuck to his skin.
"Quite tragic," the Stone muttered, "An arrestable offense, really." But Gemini was not a guard, nor an enforcer of the law – he was an antagonist. There was that easy smile again, with mischievousness hiding behind it. "But come, let's talk business – of you selling your finest slave to me, the one with silver hair," he looked toward the elven slave again, speaking to him and not the vendor, "and brilliant blue eyes."
He was the antagonist again, inspecting his fingernails while speaking towards the anxious vendor, affably indifferent, yet surreptitiously scheming. "This controlling, and otherwise illegal method of detaining your slaves – it can be a distant memory, if you wish it."
Gemini's eyes said what his mouth would not – you'd do well to sell me your slave.
This was the type of man who would not, give up one of his boys, Gemini knew. He was in the bazaar for pretense, to make himself feel better. When the moon hung in the sky, he'd go home and fantasize, hoarding what could be sold in order to fulfill his own secret fantasies. Never touching them, never marring them, but dreaming. But Gemini knew he was not – not when the man was so possessive of them.
Gemini Stone, however, always got what he wanted, even if he had to take it with his own two hands.
