A Drop in the Pond. [M]

[Draconian]

He desired to but he couldn't.

"Why not!" Grace snapped, glaring up at him. Any fires in the area would grow. A surge of power would have then brighten and dim with her little flash of temper. "You just said you were the chief! That... That means you could let me go!"

[DaGlobster]

Silently, Motark watched as this small woman's temper flared up, along with all the fires in the area, which included the torches on his wall and the fire pit in the center of the room.

"If I released you, the rest of the tribe would see me as weak. My enemies would see me as weak."

[Draconian]

Grace made a pointed look to the firepit, looking back at him and then back at the firepit. Nothing? No gasp? A brief look at his eyes - which she had to focus on behind those teeth - and she didn't see any fear.

Nothing.

"You could... I could..." Grace curled up under the fur again, looking quite crestfallen. Her knees were pulled to her chin and she rubbed at her legs, the chill setting back in. A brief glance to him and she removed the fur and whatever else gauzy material she'd been wearing.

A hard look to this Chief.

And she walked to the fire pit and stood in it. Or stood in it the best she could.

Blessedly warm. Grace forgot herself and gave a gentle sigh of relief at finally not being so cold.

Then her eyes snapped open and she stared at him.

"I'm a mage. Aren't you afraid of me?"

[DaGlobster]

"I am not."

He watched her with a hard look of his own, eyes traveling over her small frame before they locked onto her eyes.

"We have our shamans here. Druids as well."

[Draconian]

Well. Crap.

Grace's face fell and she quickly cast her eyes away.

There went her trump card. Sure she wasn't in Connlaoth anymore but... Wasn't magic feared everywhere except Serendipity? Her hands went to her stomach and she pressed at her ribs, not willing to leave the fire now that she was so warm.

"I'm... I'm no use to you. Can't you just... Take me somewhere and leave me there?" In her passion she'd done exactly what she didn't want to. Leave the fire. Her arm was out and she was aware she was naked but the giant orc of a ... Man? Didn't seem to care so Grace didn't think to remember it.

She wanted free.

Most of all Grace wanted to go home but that would never be an option.

[DaGlobster]

"You don't want that."

Motark crossed his arms.

"It's nothing but orc territory for miles upon miles."

[Draconian]

Grace moved closer, putting her hands on his arm. The hands that had just been in a fire and were quite hot.

"Then... What do you want from me? Why am I here!" She pushed at him, angry. Infuriated. "What are you going to do with me if you want to let me go but you can't?!" Grace even put airquotes around the word 'can't. Because he could! He just... Didn't want to.

[DaGlobster]

Motark turned to fully face her. He stared down at her, and it was clear his patience was running thin.

"It was not my decision to bring you here. You were a peace offering from a rival clan. They paid for their lives with yours."

He leaned down a bit.

"If you want to brave orc territory on your own, then tell me. If you get captured again, you'll be lucky if they decide to kill you instead of keep you."

[Draconian]

Grace shook her head, staring up at him.

This time she was unwilling to flinch away. He hadn't hit her. Yet. Nor had he yelled at her. Grace was going to push every boundary until she got burned for her. Metaphorically.

"Wait." A shake of her head and her hair poured over her shoulders like liquid, "Lucky if I'm killed? I don't understand. Being killed is bad."

[DaGlobster]

Motark chuckled.

"If you get captured out in the wilds, you'll be raped. You'll be tortured, beat, and raped again. They'll rape you until they get bored. And then they'll kill you."

Motark looked away, as if delivering that information shook something up inside him.

"You were fortunate. Extremely so."

[Draconian]

She could have been...

Grace just stared at him, eyes wide in a new sort of horror.

"Was that why they...?" Grace pressed a hand to her mouth and she shuffled backwards, if she hadn't been a virgin, she knew. In her bones she knew that's what would have happened to her. Looking at her arms, her legs, there wasn't a bruise on her.

Because she was a present. To this man. Orc.

"What do I call you?" She finally asked, looking at possibly the only sane creature around here.

[DaGlobster]

"When we are alone, you may call me Motark. When others are present, you call me "Chieftain." Is this clear?"

[Draconian]

Grace was about to ask, in horror, that they were going to be alone together before she realized, indeed they were and she was still naked. A brief glance down at her and a look to the fur in a pile on the floor she quickly scuttled over to it and pulled it over her shoulders.

Motark.

Weird name.

"Yes." She said simply, licking her lips.

"Do I get to keep my name? I read in a book once that slaves get different names." A brief look at him and then back down at the floor, "I am a slave, right? Or am I a pet."

[DaGlobster]

"I have no use for a slave. Accessory is a better word." Motark said.

"What is your name?"

[Draconian]

"Grace."

She said simply.

At least she wasn't a pet. Her hair was bunched over her shoulder under the fur and she looked around his home.

"If I'm not a slave, what am I supposed to do?" A grimace and she looked at the tent flap and then back at him. It was closed. They were alone. She swallowed thickly and ducked her head like she was trying to avoid notice.

[DaGlobster]

"Grace," Motark repeated, his natural orcish accent giving her name a bit more pizazz than it actually had.

"I won't have you serve me, and I won't... use you, either. I do not yet know what I will do with you."

[Draconian]

Grace pressed her hands to her chest and ducked her head down before looking up at him through her hair. He wouldn't use her.

"What..." A brief look around and she wrung her fingers together, "What should I do then?"

[DaGlobster]

A moment of silence.

"Are you hungry?"

[Draconian]

The word alone had her pause and she stared at him for a moment.

"Yes."

Well, she was more thirsty but hungry would do. She took a few hesitant steps closer, frowning down at the ground. Licking her lips she looked down at her hands before she bit her lip and took a deep breath.

Grace stared up at the giant of a man and took another hesitant step closer.

"I am. I think I ate the day before yesterday," A wrinkle of her nose," They offered me meat but... It was raw."

[DaGlobster]

"Hmph," Motark let out quietly, and he motioned to his side. At one section of the room (There was no real rhyme or reason to the decoration) there was a basket of fruit that sat on a very low table. A table low enough that anyone using it would have to rest on their knees.

Motark stepped to it, and lowered down onto his knees. In the basket was a rather impressive collection of apples, peaches, and other temperate fruits.