Isaura spent the day amongst the dragons, cooing and coddling and making sure all were well attended to. Her current job saw her apprenticing under a dragon trainer of note, and she was able to take part in matching young Kaadir to humans that would best get along with them. She was even beginning to earn a name for herself, for every pair she matched ended up being perfectly matched. Most assumed she just had a natural knack for reading the speechless dragons, but she was generally able to communicate with them when they were willing.
After checking up on one of the young males who she had stitched up earlier in the day from a spat with a fellow dragon, she pulled her water skin down from one of the hooks and took off towards the bath house, her feet padding quietly along the stones of the city streets. Her lips pursed as she hummed a soft tune to herself, but the tune died in her throat and turned to a scream as a hand shoved a cloth against her face. The body of her captor jerked her into the adjoining alleyway, her dove gray eyes opening wide in shock in fear as she struggled against her captor. She tried to shift, tried to mold herself into her lynx form, her fangs and claws coming out, but receding as a man grunted. "Got some sort of magic, gimme the collar..."
She felt a choking, cloying sensation as a thin corded collar was snapped onto her neck, beneath her house family torc. Her fingers instantly raised to her neck as her knees gave out from under her. She felt her body collapse onto the sun-warmed stones of the alleyway, and that was the last she knew for quite some time...
Isaura awoke to the rocking of the world, a sensation she had never before felt. Her first reaction was panic, as she tried to stumble to her feet and hit her head. She looked around, her heart racing as all she could see around her was a dark, enclosed room full of other bodies. That was when her senses were assaulted, the smell of urine, the groans of pain and discomfort assailing her at once. Her breath came in short, shallow pants, much like that of a frightened rabbit, her lips parted as she released a low cat-like groan of distress. Where was she? What was making the world rock? She had to slow her breath before the smell of sea salt crossed her senses... A boat? Was she on a boat? She had never before been on a boat larger than a small river raft, and this vessel shifted unnaturally with the water. The lapping of waves against the sides shifted the boat, and she sat up slowly to avoid hitting her head again. They were stacked, stacked in pallets, each one only large enough for its occupant to lay in a straight line, but not to sit up straight. Isaura's was on the top of her pile, in what she assumed was because she was by far the smallest of the rest of the Essyrnian cargo.
Why was she here? She could sense the death among the other occupants... She was among killers, rapists, and other criminals. That much she could tell... Slaves. She was surrounded by other slaves, which only reason could explain that she, too, was a slave. But she had done nothing wrong! Hunching in her pallet, she grasped the bars tightly, her knuckles turning white in fear as thoughts rushed through her mind. She was guilty of nothing! Not that she entirely understood the mortal concept of guilt quite yet, but she knew its legal application. People were enslaved when they had done wrong. And she knew what the Essyrn people though was wrong. And she had not done any of those things.
It was hours before anyone of any sort of authority came into the hull of the ship, shoving trays of food into their pallets, not minding if the contents spilled before the occupant had time to collect them. When the man approached her pallet, Isaura scooted to the edge of hers, gripping the bars. "Sir... I think there has been a mistake. I have not done anything illegal. Why am I on a slave ship?"
The man scoffed and shoved a tray of food into her pallet, and although her hand reached out to steady the tray, she still called out to the man, who had decided she did not warrant a response. "Sir! Sir! You must let me out. I have done nothing worthy of condemnation. Certainly there has been a mix up. I should get off before we leave port..."
The man paused, turned, removing a rod from his belt. He coolly walked to her cage, and used the rod to sting her. She yelped, confused, the contents of her tray spilling onto the occupants below her. As the man left, the slaves beneath her yelled curses up at her, threatening her that she ought to watch her back when they got out...
She didn't know how many days passed on the boat... The dark hull gave no indication of the passing of day into night, but when they arrived and were jostled on deck, all of their legs were weak and shaky. Their captors used a pump to spray them down with ice cold sea water once they made their way onto land, and Isaura did not have the strength to remain standing, and curled up on the ground as they poured water over her shivering body. The thin, gauzy cotton of her sarong did not give her enough coverage or warmth in this new climate, and she felt sick by the sudden stillness of the ground. She had been unable to eat much on their voyage, and so when she made to get sick, her stomach cramped and she could only dry heave. Her body felt wrecked and weak. She was forced to stand, and was shoved between the darker bodies, her honey colored skin and hair, and her small stature, both making her stand out, while at the same time becoming overwhelmed and swallowed by the crowd of other slaves.
They were herded for some time, she was too listless to care, even when she had a flash of the upcoming deaths of those around her. The woman next to her would collapse within five minutes, and would be trampled to death... She was too tired to warn the woman, though she might have been able to save her. Many had tied on the boat ride over, and she felt numb from all of the portents of death... Had lain feverish on her pallet, kept up and unable to sleep with the onslaught of visions of death. Mortality did not suit her... Never before had she felt pain, or hunger, or thirst to this extent. Even after five years of mortality, she had always been able to use her magic to stave off all of these. She felt, what she assumed, was sickness, at some point on the boat.
They were corralled into different cells, and when she was shoved into a cell. She was the last to be shoved into the cell, the door of the cell forcing her the rest of the way in. Her eyes lowered, she quickly retreated to the closest corner, hunching down and pulling her knees to her chest, trying with little energy to cover herself. She and the other slaves from the boat were far too exhausted to do anything other than collapse in various spots in the cell, though there were a few that weren't allowed to sit or rest by the previous slaves. Her head fell to her knees and she felt her eyes close, trying her best to become a little shadow, to close the world out so that the world could not see her...
She was kicked awake. She blinked her eyes, trying to clear them, as she tilted her head up, peering up at two men looming over her. They were not from the ship, she could tell... Swallowing, she pulled her knees even closer, only to have one of the men use his foot to try and kick her legs apart. Her hands fell to the ground to balance her, her palms against the dirty floor of the cell, she used them to push herself up the wall. Her back wedged into the corner, one of the men spat at her. "Did we say you could stand?" She did not reply, did not move her head or indicate in any way the she acknowledged them, staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing in the distance. One of the men made to paw at her sarong. "Now, why not get out o' this wet thing? That way we can see that nice honey hued skin..."
Isaura swallowed heavily and attempted to bat his hand away, biting her lip, and continuing to refuse to look him in the eyes, staring straight in front of her. She squared her shoulders, and said softly, "Leave me alone."
The second, quieter man grabbed out and tore apart the tie of her sarong behind her neck, forcing her to grasp the cloth over her to keep it from falling off. She could feel her heart racing, trying her best to keep from feeling anything as they closed in on her further.
