Chaos And Healing, An Odd Encounter {SanctifiedSavage!}

[HeartOfFlame]

@SanctifiedSavage

Probable M Rating for Kanimir's potty mouth and general lack of morals, plus a little nudity XD

Sunset washed over Uthlyn like faded paint. The city was coated in varying shades of red and gold, light catching in closed windows and reflecting splinters of light back through the streets and into the sky. Clouds rolled around the edges of the picturesque sky, hemming the vibrant light of the drowsing sun in pink and orange puffs of light cotton.

Kanimir trailed a long shadow at his feet as he strode into the sun, eyes squinted in the striking rays of light falling directly into his face. The road upon which he walked was set directly west, with rows of high caste manor houses and mansions rising up on each side of him and a long path straight ahead, straight into the sun. Kanimir's hood hung loose over his head, pushed upwards by the curve of his horns, but fell just a few inches short of throwing shadows into his eyes. It was...irritating.

The Chaosbringer had been back within Connlaothian territory for less than a week, and already his services had been called for. A smile touched his lips, eyes ducking back to the hard packed cobbles beneath his feet as he walked, there was no shortage of work for a man like him, not in these fickle walls. Dukes and Duchesses, Lords and Ladies, all Nobles seemed to be cut from a very similar clothe, all only too eager to take any chance to undercut one another, outbid each other and, more often than not, have each other killed. Kanimir had no qualms being the middle man, so long as he was paid for his work, and actually found the whole thing entirely entertaining. They all thought themselves so high and mighty, so above the common man, yet here they all sat, in their pristine manors and mansions, with servant at their beck and call, squabbling like dogs over a bone. All of them had blood on their hands just as much as he did, theirs was just easier to hide.

A large, grandiose mansion rose on his right, courtyard lit by a long line of torches several feet taller than Nim, even on his tip-toes. He regarded it blandly for a moment, turned away from the sun, pales eyes raking over the entirety of the building. Roughly four stories high, he'd guess, with a multitude of high windows leading onto balconies for every floor but the ground. Plenty easy enough to get in and out of, especially with a little help from the power in his veins, if the situation went south.

He smiled, lifting the thin scarf hanging loose around his neck to cover the lower portion of his face, and moved through the courtyard, in plain sight between the towering torches. The house rose up to meet him, the roof disappearing somewhere behind the second story balcony as he reached the steps to the intricately carved wooden doors and lifted a hand to rest over the smooth, polished wood. Oh, how easy it would be to simply blow it inwards. A snap of his fingers, that would be all it took. A tingle raced through his fingertips, taunting, tempting, but he shook his head with a sigh, lifting the hand back to tug at the edge of his hood as he kicked the door in preference of knocking.

Thud thud thud

'Excuse me, Lord Harvael, your requested assassin has arrived.'

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia didn't pretend to understand humans. They were filthy, ugly, violent creatures and very few had proven otherwise. Her life since arriving in Connlaoth had been a series of exchanges between slavers, owners, and cages. Caught because she was exotic and bought for the same reason. Small, soft, and easily manipulated into doing what she was told, Keithia was the ideal.

It had only taken her horns being cut off once for her to be cowed into submission.

The current owner had her on display like she was some trophy. A creature he might've caught in the wilds. A slender silver chain affixed her to a eloquent base. She could break it, of course. Silver was a malleable and soft metal, but she didn't dare. Instead, she remained standing and attentive to whomever would be brought in. Dressed in a garish veil that scratched her soft skin but matched her long black hair and dark, grey eyes.

Living art, he called her.

She felt a prop. Invisible. Other, free roaming servants didn't even bat an eye at her. Was this preferable to the cages? To the hands everywhere and being inspected? She didn't know, really. If anything, it just made her feel even more alone than she had before. All she could hope for was that this man, like some of the others, would eventually tire of her and she would be passed along. Was it maddening to want a different owner?

Probably. Especially since being still and ignored was probably preferable to some of the other things that she could be bought and used for. Keithia hated having time alone with her thoughts, though, and the memory of her glen and all she knew being destroyed. There was no solace from that save the present, no escape from that except having to deal with the here and now. Standing as she was, small and exposed, she was left with naught but her thoughts and memories for company.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

A harried looking servant opened the door - eventually -, and well harried she should be; Kanimir had gone back to considering blowing the structure up in the time it had taken for her to arrive. She looked him up and down, taking him in, and he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Harried turned wary, as she leaned through the door and looked out into the courtyard, before beckoning him inwards hurriedly.

Evidently, her master wasn't very good at keeping a secret. He let that thought amuse him as he wandered through the door, taking his time just for the hell of it, and glanced around the lobby he stepped into. Too big, obnoxiously decorated with various mementos and trophies, hunting prizes and suits of armour. It reminded him of the sword and armour his father used to keep in their hut in La'Marri, a thought which made him snort softly.

"Please, follow me." The servant said, voice hushed and already halfway up the stairwell to the second floor. It was as wide as Kanimir was tall, and he followed her steps lazily, taking his time and cataloguing his surroundings as they moved through a large hallway and into an atrium of sorts. This was decorated even more garishly than the lobby, every available surface hanging an exotic treasure of some sort, ancient vases and pots propped up on stands and shelves.

"Please wait here, I will fetch Lord Harvael presently."

Barely smothering a yawn, he stepped into the room proper and his guide pulled the door shut behind him, effectively sealing the room. He took a moment to examine the room properly, noting the doors onto the balcony were thrown wide, and his eyes fell upon her then.

She was small, clearly nonhuman by the intricate horns - antlers, even - curving from beneath her hair. She looked frail, scared, lonely. He chewed his lip, eyes fixed on the silver chain keeping her tied to the intricate base of a decorative pillar. She was like the other treasures in the room, on display, a pretty thing to taunt the eyes. His fingers itched.

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia could stand all day. It wasn't the physicality of what she did that bothered her. Inhuman, such a thing didn't tire her. Her eyes had already memorized the room though and she didn't find the garish display of human trinkets and art appealing. It was claustrophobic, no matter it might be considered a large room, and smelt of sweat and the body odor of humans. Reeked.

Keithia had always hoped she would get used to it, but the acrid smell lingered in places like this. Trapped in rooms that were frequented by guests and the like. Which was why she was here. To be on display for those made to wait while Lord Harvael dawdled as long as he felt the current guest should wait. Depending on how important determined the length of the weight.

She heard them before she saw them. The sound of footsteps beyond the door. Her grey eyes found something on the opposite wall to stare at so she wasn't looking at the servant who opened the door or the one who entered. She didn't care. She didn't want to be gawked at and, if she were still enough, maybe they wouldn't notice that she was alive at all. Just a brilliantly decorated sculpture. There was so much to see in the room that the lazy eye could easily pass over her.

Though her heart beat kicked up in anxiousness, her breathing remained soft and barely noticeable. Trying very hard not to draw attention to herself.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir contained himself - for now - and clenched his hands into fists to dispel the tingling sensation, blocking out the magic ever ready at his beck and call. Instead, he lifted a hand to knock back his head, running a hand over his hair to flatten it back between his horns. The creature before him, he suspected a nymph, looked like she was trying to become one with the furniture, either out of simple fear or anticipation of what would come were she seen. Either option was as bad as the other.

He drew a breath through his nose, the air muffled slightly by the mask over his lower face, and let it out in a quiet hum, turning his eyes away from her. The room was full of trinkets, glittering treasures and polished prizes no matter which way he turned. He couldn't decide if Harvael was a collector or a hoarder. A quick glance at the nymph reaffirmed the second as probably correct.

Footsteps met his ears and he turned away from the window and the shackled creature, both, placing his back to the balcony and what sunlight there was left in the sky in his client's eyes. He tugged his scarf a little higher, smiled, and waited.

Lord Harvael was a predictably large man, in both girth and height, and Kanimir could feel every step as he entered the room and shut the door in his wake, glancing nervously at the open windows, as though he feared being overhead. Why a man would fear eavesdroppers one a conversation such as the one they were about to have, the Chaosbringer could not possibly imagine. His smile widened a fraction.

"Harvael." He greeted flatly, voice as muffled as the air he was breathing, all titles and dignities left outside the door through which the man had entered. He lifted a hand, sparks dancing between his fingers as he curled them in his palm slowly, lazily. "Bold of you to bring me to your home."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia was rather relieved when she seemed to be unnoticed. Her sigh of relief was quiet and nigh unnoticeable. Whoever the stranger, the guest, the visitor was, the last thing she wanted was to get in trouble because they bothered her. It'd somehow be her fault.

Only once the new comer crossed the room and wasn't in a position to look at her did she look at him. The nymph had no senses to tell he wasn't human but the horns were a give away. She'd come to find that her own antlers were exotic and one of the reasons humans like to buy her. Not that she understood that. The rest of it was just a mystery to her.

People, largely, were a mystery to her.

When the heavy footfalls of Harvael signaled his arrival, Keithia noticeably wilted. She scooted back on the pedestal, wanting to be as far from him as she could, and cast her face to the side. Hiding behind a curtain of stark, black hair that reached her knees. Well brushed and shining, she was still pretty. Still a sight to behind, but this was the only way she could really hide from him.

Hopefully, he would be so busy talking to his guest that he wouldn't notice she was not looking at him.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Harvael shifted, uncomfortable, and Kanimir felt more than saw the way his eyes were drawn to the flickering flames of Riven in his palm. He smothered a grin, eyes holding the contained, static light of his amusement as he lifted them to meet the bigger man's gaze. He clenched his hand, sparks popping as he snuffed them out, and then extended the hand, palm upwards. Harvael hesitated, fingers curling by his side, and Nim tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed.

"I assume you know how this works. You did know how to contact me, after all." He kept his voice low, muffled, an octave or two deeper than his usual voice. It added to the mystery, to the reputation. He could have laughed at the thought of his reputation, all the rumours and tales people liked to spin into his being. Sometimes he liked to find those who whispered of him and simply listen to their conversations for the entertainment factor. The creativity of humans was often amusing.

After a moment's more thought, Harvael produced a scrap of parchment from his fancy, embroidered jacket, dropping it in Kanimir's palm like he thought it might burn him, doing his utmost best not to touch the Chaosbringer's skin. Nim closed his fingers around it, listening to the expensive paper scrunch, and pulled it back to his chest to unfold it. His eyebrow lifted at the name he saw, printed in elegant, if slightly shaken, hand.

He let the silence sit for a minute, watched Harvael squirm. "Doable. Now," He crumpled the paper once more, watching it burst into flames and then simply disappear with a poorly hidden grin, "my payment."

Harvael looked relieved to have moved straight along from the name of his target, his posture relaxing slightly and one hand lifting to encompass the grossly decorated room. "Name your price."

Nim smiled, lifting his own hand to extend his index finger towards the Nymph, doing a valiant job of trying to avoid attention, on the opposite wall. "Her."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia certainly understood what was going on. A deal, of some manner. Whomever Harvael was dealing with, though, made the man uneasy. He didn't notice that she had turned her attention to the floor. He was far too busy... quivering? Certainly afraid.

It was an emotion she'd felt for the first time when the slavers came, and only around humans since. Monsters, the lot of them, and she felt not an ounce of compassion or sympathy for her owner. Even if she didn't understand what there was to be afraid of. Neither did she particularly delight in him being afraid either. Rather, she felt nothing.

Just observed through the curtain of her hair as the odd deal was made and Harvael seemed relieved to be rid of some paper.

Her only reaction came when the payment was made, which was certainly understandable. The price named was her. Still, quiet, trying desperately not to be noticed Keithia. When she was pointed at, she did look up.

If attention was going to be on her, then there was little point in hiding. Her dark grey eyes move from Harvael to the other man. She didn't think her current owner would accept, but she also didn't understand what was really going on here either. Her features remained impassive despite the quick beating of her heart. She hadn't wanted to be brought into any of this, at all.

The delicate silver chain sparkled as she moved, shifting her position so she was fully facing both of them. It wasn't like she had a say, but she was certainly curious what would make a stranger randomly decide that she was worth... whatever was going on.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Harvael blinked, taken off guard by that, glancing over at the nymph with a quietly thoughtful expression. Kanimir followed his gaze, fingers aching for more than just a scrap of paper to destroy as the chain she wore caught the light and tickled as it was moved. Harvael raised a quizzical eyebrow, suddenly gaining confidence, apparently possessive of his...treasure

"What use does an...man like you have for a pretty thing like that?" He asked, voice thickening briefly over his stumble of words. Kanimir smiled coldly, the expression reflected in his eyes as his gaze shifted from the nervous looking woman to the man before him.

"What use does an upstanding man like you have for an assassin?" He replied, watching Harvael's face contort into something resembling vague panic, his eyes widened and glancing swiftly between the Chaosbringer, the open windows, and the nyphm, though she seemed more of an afterthought. A soft, breathy chuckle escaped Nim, only adding to the discomfort plainly evident on Harvael's expression.

He turned away, towards the window, watching the last, persistent rays of light disappearing behind the rooftops of the city spread out before him. "We have a deal then. I'll return when they're dead and take my payment."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

This wasn't going to bode well for Keithia, she knew. Be quiet, be pretty. Those were the rules. Be looked at, not heard. With the way Harvael regarded her after the assassin left, she suspected the blame was going to land on her.

The man was gone but a moment before he stormed to her, jerking on the delicate chain and forcing her to either bend with it or have it break. Keithia bent. "What did you say? What did you promise him?" He was angry, obviously. Thinking she'd made a deal. She had nothing to offer and she'd not said anything, but Keithia didn't plead her case either. That hadn't worked in the past and she doubted it would work now. Harvael was looking for someone to blame, someone to take his discomfort and irritation out on.

Since she would no longer be his, it seemed, Keithia was the target. His large hand grabbed one of her small, delicate antlers and jerked her off the podium. Unlike a deer's antler, the slender bone was sensitive and it pained her greatly for him to even touch it in a rough fashion, let alone lead her by it. Keithea cried out but moved as she was pulled, the silver chain breaking as she was led from the room.

If she wasn't to be Harvael's anymore, he wasn't going to leave her on display.

Instead, he drug her to one of the hallways that led down to a service hall, where he threw her forward using the antler. She stumbled over her own feet and fell on her hands and knees, not even bothering to wipe at her eyes. She vaguely heard him order one of the other servants to dress her down, to find something cheap befitting her leave of the estate.

When his thundering steps left, the servant gingerly helped her up and they made their way to a side room where the veil was carefully lifted off and the silver chain, or what remained of it, taken off as well. She was put in a shift of a dress – something formless and cream colored that reached her knees – and taken to the entry hall where she was made to wait, kneeling.

Until she was told otherwise. 

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir lingered for a minute or two, perched on the edge of the balcony outside, hidden by the heavy drapes on either side of the balcony doorway. He heard Harvael move, heard the snapping chain and the staggering footsteps of the nymph being all but dragged from the room. He had to breath deeply for a moment to prevent himself snapping his fingers then and there. He wasn't even sure why these things affected him so deeply, settling a feeling of 'wrong wrong wrong' in his gut every time, every damn time. It vexed him, something like a vice that he had to fulfil or go mad from ignoring it. If only he could have been a gambler or a drinker instead, but no, his heart had settled itself on being an advocate for slave freedom.

He sighed, pushing off and falling the short distance to the garden below, landing silently. He had a job to do, and when he returned, the nymph could have her freedom. He pulled his hood back up, moving through the dusk now settling over the city and focusing on the task at hand.



Less than an hour, a few slit throats and a nicely redecorated manor later, Kanimir returned, inviting himself through the balcony from which he had left with a deft snap of his fingers that turned the stained glass to little more than shards of sand in an instant. He stepped through the jagged opening, eyes flickering around the room and confirming that the nymph was gone, before crossing over and exiting out into the hallway. The mansion was quiet, no servants in sight, or even Harvael, and he hid a grin in the fabric of his scarf as he lifted the pouch from his belt and dumped it on the shelf of a small vase stand. His evidence was in there, not that he thought Harvael would need much more proof of his work than the sure-to-spread news of the rather brutal end his targets had met.

That done, he turned and bounced down the steps he had ascended earlier, eyes raking the lobby for a servant to hail for his payment. A thought that Harvael had hidden her away and intended to pay him in a different manner flitted through his mind, but he ignored it. Harvael was egotistical and pompous, not a fool. He knew better than to try and slight the Chaosbringer.

To his surprise, he found both a servant and his 'pay' in one glance, a young, nervous looking man standing uneasily near the main entrance, with the nymph kneeling at his side. She had been changed into different clothes, a simple dress that hung loose on his frame. He snorted softly, amused. He had considered selling the fancy veil she had previously worn for money to send her on her way, but he supposed he would just have to provide her out of his own pocket now.

He approached the young servant near silently, taking a small amount of gleeful satisfaction from the jerk through his muscles as he realised someone was approaching him from less than sex feet away. Kanimir didn't give the boy a chance to recover, closing the distance and slapping his shoulder on his way to crouch near the nymph.

"Tell your master his proof is in the northern hallway." He glanced back, pale eyes narrowed, "Shoo."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

It was hard to judge the passage of time based on people's movements alone. She wasn't sure how long she remained kneeling, only that she didn't move. The person idly watching over her changed twice. Whether that meant an hour or not, she didn't know. Keithia didn't really bother to keep track either. Did it really, honestly matter?

From one place to the next.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to stand around and be gawked at. That'd be a plus. A bonus. She took to counting the various threads in the rug in front of her while she waited, hands on her lap, legs tucked under her. Her head still throbbed where her antler had been pulled, but that would fade with time. Such things usually did.

She heard someone approach, but assumed it was another to change out the watch. When that wasn't the case, and the stranger from before crouched in front of her, she reflexively looked at him. He had odd eyes. Like hers, in a way. Colorless. Where hers had been an emerald, forest green when she'd been apart of the land that had created her, his were... different. Didn't feel natural, to her, though her ability to distinguish such things had been severely muted since she'd been cut from the land.

Her black hair pooled around her while she watched him. Not afraid, there didn't seem to be a reason for that, but timidly curious. There were always new rules, with new owners, and she was curious what these new ones would be.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

The servant scurried off, looking more than a little out of his depth, and Kanimir smiled, refocusing on the woman in front of him. She met his eye, that was good. It meant they hadn't completely broken her yet. He had been doing this for several years - and was unfortunately still none the wiser as to why he kept being so damn charitable - and he had seen more than a few slaves and captured creatures who had been so abused, so utterly broken by their life of captivity it had almost felt kinder to leave them in the life of servitude they knew.

He offered her a different smile, one not tinged by the near constant state of disdain and boredom, a touch of sadism. This was a genuine expression, testing the waters, experimenting with how much of an olive branch she would accept. He offered his hand, gloved to the second joint of his fingers, and rose back into a bent standing position, maintaining eye contact all the while.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Now that this house, this box of human stink, didn't matter Keithia didn't pay the scurrying servant any mind. She heard him leave and that was all that mattered. So be it. Time to move forward.

Since he did not look away from her, neither did she. It wasn't a challenge or a question, simply meeting the gaze of someone who was equally looking at her. There was absolutely no fight in Keithia, no presence of violence. She simply wasn't capable of it, but that didn't mean she was broken or didn't have a will to live. By the very nature of what she was, Keithia wished very much to live. Even if the land she'd been from and all her family were gone.

Even if she had no purpose for being.

His smile meant nothing to her, either. She'd seen smiles on faces as pain was inflicted or used to cover what someone might do. Since Keithia had trouble reading expression, or more accurately the true intent behind it, she didn't assume the smile meant joy as it would on a nymph. It was just that – a smile.

Her hand lifted to take his because that was expected, and then she stood. A slender, fair skinned nymph. Certainly not human with her delicate antlers and too wide, charcoal eyes. The cloth slip over her destroyed any hint of a form under it. She was a square of cloth that led to slender legs and bare feet.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Meek. The word struck him as she used his hand to stand, her eyes meeting his steadily but lacking any real emotion. She had been used and abused, put out on display like a pretty little trinket from a foreign country. He sighed, releasing her hand and glancing down. Her feet were bare, pale and petite, a frown. He'd have to see about shoes, then. Not that it mattered overly, he'd take her to the Chateau first; Tyka would see about getting her properly clothed and fed.

Tired of the mansion lobby, Nim turned and pushed open the main door, stepping out into the night air and breathing deeply, before glancing over his shoulder to ensure the nymph was behind him. He was fairly certain she would be. He could see in her eyes and in her posture that she had been "taught" how to properly act as a possession, subservient, submissive, accepting of any and all mistreatment. That familiar feeling of itching under the skin of his hands reared its head, but he squashed it. She was here now, about to be handed her freedom. It would do little good to Riven Harvael's home, the man had probably not even been the one to originally throw her into this life. He was just a collector, admiring his treasures.

The Chateau was on the opposite side of the city from these streets of mansions and manor houses, a long walk through cobbled streets and a few shortcuts through parks and reserves. He paused on the edge of the courtyard, glancing down at her bare feet once more. She didn't seem frail, per se, but he doubted she could take that much walking on rough ground. She might not complain about it, but it would be painful. His goal here was to make her life a tad better, not inflict more suffering.

Kanimir hummed softly, thinking. There was a shoemaker a few streets over that he could edit their route to travel past. It would mean he would have to pay for the footwear out of his own pocket, rather than simply recycling old shoes from the multitude of mismatched clothing that had collected in the Chateau over the years, but, what the hell. He was damn near rich at this point anyway. That decided, he turned onto the road and started walking, a tad slower than his normal jaunty pace.

"So, what's your name?" He asked after a few beats of silence, the ambient noise of the city around them a background lull, but decidedly dull. Kanimir did not enjoy dull things, vibrancy and activity were his modus operandi, perhaps the reason few people saw him coming. They did not expect someone with a short attention span to be so skilled at ending lives. He smothered a rather inappropriate smile. "Unless you'd like me to just call you Nymph?"

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia watched, curious, with wide eyes as he seemed to be deciding something. It took only a moment, though, and then they were moving out of the lobby. Out of her former master's home and into the open air. She paused, just briefly, to take a deep breath. The city still smelt bad. Of people too close together, the sweat of bodies put to work, but it wasn't all contained in a box.

She savored that.

By the time he glanced back, she was there. Attentive and alert, watching him. Keithia would do just about anything to prevent harm coming to herself, which meant being ready to respond to whatever fell out of his mouth. She preferred this to standing on the podium. At least this way she had something to do. Something to put her mind to.

Even having her feet on bare ground felt heavenly. Unworked ground was always the best. Dirt, sand, grass. Anything that hadn't been smashed into place by human hands or overworked. The street didn't bother her at all and though her feet looked frail, she easily kept up and didn't seem fazed in the slightest. Rather, invigorated that she was outside and touching the ground.

It was just lovely.

Not that it showed on her carefully neutral face. Keithia didn't want him to know anything brought her the slightest ounce of joy. It was so frequently taken from her when it was made known. When he asked her name, she answered immediately, in a soft, lilting accident that sounded like she might be trying to sing it, "Keithia. Though some have called me Nymph."

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir watched her out of the corner of his eye, head tilted back to keep her in view as she trailed a foot or so behind. The hard ground didn't seem to bother her at all, her footsteps light and solid, not the tender, careful steps of someone bothered by the uneven surface. He contemplated not bothering with the shoemaker, but shrugged to himself. Might as well just get her some shoes, she could decide whether or not she wanted them afterwards, and his conscious would be clear.

Ha, what an irony. Kill a half dozen people, then buy a girl a pair of shoes and call it even. Sounded pretty fair to him. He snorted air in amusement, his thoughts wandering, and glanced back at the Nymph again.

"Keithia. Nice name. Foreign?" Perhaps a redundant question, it was pretty clear she was most likely not native to Connloath, though, he could always be wrong. "Mine's Kanimir."

She seemed happy to be outdoors. Her face was carefully crafted into something emotionless, but he could see the changes in her body language, the energy of life flowing through her at being out in the open air. Vaguely, he wondered how long she had been trapped in that room, on display like just another vase, without sunlight or room to breath, room to do anything but be ogled by strangers.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Her eyes occasionally strayed skyward. Reflex, or just quiet want, to see it and revel in it for as long as she might be out. Keithia was careful to look at him whenever he spoke though and kept her hands clasped in front of her. She didn't think it particularly odd that he wanted to know about her. Generally, such questions would be exchanged between owners, but... Well, he'd either snagged her on a whim or hadn't wanted to discuss as much with her previous.

Keithia didn't see the point in lying or the merit in it. She was obviously not human and she wouldn't have known of places far away to say she was from other than exactly where she came from. The truth was easier to remember. "Yes. I was caught on a small island in what... people call the Yoreiq Isles. Then brought here."

Her own curiously would have to be satisfied by what he offered. A name, then. Kanimir. She wanted to know why he'd picked her. Why bother. What he wanted with her and what was he planning. They were curious question. Nagging ones but not the sort that ate her up with anticipation or anxiety. Keithia just... didn't live that way. She would take things as they came and deal with it as they did.

Though she was most certain he wasn't human. That didn't necessarily make him foreign though.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

"Yoreiq, huh?" He blinked, pleased to be right but surprised by the distance. They had brought her quite a ways away from home. He stifled a sigh, turning down a side street from the main thoroughfare they had been walking on and wandering on at his leisurely pace. "Can't say I've ever been. Funny, I've traveled most everywhere else."

He didn't think she'd cottoned on to the idea that he hadn't actually brought her as a possession yet, then again he hadn't given her much to go on. She seemed quite accustomed to the life she had been living, not exactly expecting a change, freedom. He wondered what she would do with it. Would she go back to Yoreiq? Some of the slaves he had freed had returned to their homeland, tracked down their lost families, others stayed on, living in the Chateau under Tyka's watchful gaze, either unable to return home or unwilling too. He let them happily, not like he was using the place anyway.

The small shop he'd thought of sprung up in his vision suddenly, nestled between two townhouses. One of them belonged to the shoemaker, his shop attached on with a door in between. Kanimir had done him a favour once, something to do with his wife's friend's friend spreading rumours. Nim couldn't remember the details now, but they weren't really consequential. The favour of the past meant he got discounts and occasionally a free meal, so he was content to forget the semantics.

He glanced back at Keithia again, slowing his pace slightly and gesturing towards the sign hanging above the shop door, a rather plain carving of a boot with a few words etched underneath. "Want some shoes?"

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia had no concept of the distance she'd been taken, only that she'd been taken from her home and there wasn't anything to go back to. The glen was dead and so was the rest of her family. Forever detached from the land, she was... what she was. A broken nymph without a home.

It should have depressed her. Saddened her. While the memory of the event certainly did, the thought that the glen was gone now didn't. Of course it was gone now. It had been destroyed in her past. That event was sad. The thought it was presently gone now wasn't. What was – was. She could no more change that then she could sprout wings and fly off. She did not torment herself dreaming of things that would not, or could not, exist.

When they stopped in front of a small building, she remained a step behind. As was proper. She couldn't read anything that was writ, but she could assume some from the picture. Especially when he then asked if she wanted shoes.

Anyone else might've thought he was fishing for an answer. Keithia looked at him and answered honestly, "Preferably no." Dirty streets were better, to her, than carpeted halls. It all felt fake. Artificed and felt of neglect and decay. Shoes were just miniature trappings of the same thing. Her feet, though appearing delicate, were made for the outdoors and she was all the better for it. If a bit dirty now.

@HeartOfFlame