Thread: Far From Home (closed for Magi)

The harsh sunlight shone harshly into unprepared eyes, soft lids sliding close as a face worn from grief and weary from exhaustion and starvation crumpled against the discomfort. Small hands, lashed together by coarse rope, lifted in an attempt to shield her face from the stark daylight as the girl stumbled from the bowels of the Dawn Midst and down the gangplank. One of the sailors placed a gnarled hand upon her slim shoulder and pushed carelessly, causing her to stumble and fall onto her knees. Head bowed, a cry of discomfort and sorrow choked back along with the tears, the girl pushed herself back to her feet and followed the line of similar captives down onto the docks. Greeted by stern glares and calculating gazes, the captives were herded into categories of usefulness. Most of the old or sick had already been disposed of during the journey and now only the younger more reliable wretches remained. Divided into categories, the girl found herself shoved into a group of similarly terrified looking woman and then led into a stark, unfriendly courtyard. Eyes now adjusting to the light, Maera raised her head to reveal a set of icy blue hues which darted to and fro in search of something. A large red faced man shouted something which caused her malnourished form to flinch back visibly, shivering despite the midday sun. The order was not repeated, instead the man lunged at the nearest girl and tore away what little remained of her clothing. Maera and the rest swiftly obeyed, pulling the tattered rags from their body before attempting to shield their now nude figures. Several old women appeared with features solemn and cold as they doused the trembling girls with water and tugged the knots from their hair with vicious efficiency. If the Duke was to make a purchase then the wretched souls needed to look as presentable as possible. No clothes were brought to them, it would conceal the attributes that their esteemed patron was so finicky about, but their wrists were rebound with fresh rope. By the time Lamar arrived the ten girls, who had been selected to suit his particular purpose, had been standing in line for at least an hour. Fatigue caused the slim figures to sway occasionally where they stood, but fear kept them from falling or stumbling out of line. A wave of alertness swept down the line as the ominous figure strode into view, sending the slave traders scuttling about anxiously to satisfy his every whim. Maera bowed her head, toes curling against the loose earth beneath her feet as she cast a brief glance along the line of girls that would be inspected before her. As Lamar progressed from one girl to the next, the iced blue orbs squeezed tightly shut, a silent prayer offered up to a nameless god that the Duke would find the one he wanted before he reached her. His footsteps drew closer and her fingers entwined tightly as she willed him to pass her by without a moments hesitation. She felt his shadow fall over her diminutive figure, and the footsteps ceased. Hot breath rushed against her ear as the man whispered to her, coupled with the brush of his hand against her bare, sunken stomach. Maera flinched back, taking an awkward step out of line and way from him, alarmed by his closeness and the questions he asked. Cheeks flared an uncomfortable pink, wide eyes fixed upon the mans face as long strands of black hair fell around her shoulders. Surely she had heard wrong, a glance down the line found the other girls standing in silence with heads bowed, not daring to cast a single glance upward. The red faced man stood next to the Duke, arms folded across his fat stomach as he surveyed Maera with a sneer. No one touched er....made sure of it fer ya Sir. No much to er, but shes got a nice voice....good on her lil musical instrument as well... The mention of her lute brought the girls attention swiftly to the slaver, brows raised in expectation- so they still had it, her mothers lute.