Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

The auctioning process began with a disorganized cacophony of shouts that Izumi could not understand coming from every which way, causing the blood to boil in her veins out of frustration as she was forced to stand there helplessly while a mass of uncouth peasants bartered over her as if she were little more than a slab of meat in a street vendor's cart. Unlike some of her fellow samurai, Izumi had never been one to succumb to gratuitous bloodthirst, but right at that moment she definitely felt liable to cut down every miserable individual involved in the auction if she were to somehow get loose and retrieve her katana. As the chaotic shouting from the crowd proceeded to die down somewhat, only three distinct voices continued to be heard over the rest. Izumi could not understand a word of what was being said, but it was easy enough to infer that they were making bids, especially since the same word kept being repeated each time a bidder called out. Naturally, Izumi's dark brown eyes darted towards her potential buyers to study them as they were studying her. The first one that she looked at was the gruff Antaran man encased in a full set of armor with the baritone voice. His armor was well worn and heavily notched, clearly having seen a great deal of use. He struck her as a cold and hard man, reminding her of the barbarian warlords who prowled the mountain passes in Naginaryu, only he seemed considerably larger than any of those warlords. Izumi's instincts strongly indicated to her that out of the three possible outcomes, this one would be the most undesirable - not that she had any say in the matter, which was unquestionably infuriating. Next was a man who was practically the first's polar opposite with a very dainty, willowy physique, actually resembling a woman more closely in many ways. Something about him did not sit well with her, apart from the obvious fact that he was bidding for ownership over her. Finally, Izumi immediately recognized the only actual woman still in contention as some sort of nobility. The rich clothes, the posture, the blatant aura of haughtiness and entitlement - some things were simply universal to all cultures and locales. This woman was more calculated and controlled than the two others, essentially impossible to read. She could very well turn out to be the worst of the three and disprove Izumi's gut feeling about the armored warrior. In the end, it appeared that the noble woman prevailed, and Izumi was hastily dragged away from the stage so that the next slave could be sold. She braced herself, not allowing the guards to simply manhandle her however they wished, but not resisting in any way that would incur their wrath either. Drawing attention towards herself by lashing out pointlessly would only make it more difficult to escape when a real opportunity presented itself. She was lead to a hot and humid back room with a blazing furnace where an ugly, hairy overweight man was wielding a glowing red branding iron, looking all too eager to use it on her. Fortunately, the noblewoman from the auction joined then and apparently dissuaded him from doing so, speaking in a very authoritative tone. With a look of profound disappointment on across his face, the brander allowed the guards to lead Izumi away as per her owner's instructions. Some time and a relatively short but uncomfortable chariot ride inside another cage later, Izumi was brought to an impressively luxurious estate where she was handed off to men who presumably served the noblewoman. The architecture here differed greatly from what she knew back home, everything seemingly being built out of brick and stone with massive round pillars and colonnades for support. Of course, Izumi wasn't escorted into any of the main buildings, but instead into some sort of dark and dreary underground dungeon. There she was made to enter a small prison cell comprised of three solid stone walls blocked off on the fourth by thick black iron bars. She was left in the exact same state that she'd been brought in, still wearing little more than shreds of clothing, her wrists still bound. Standing in the middle of her cell, the proud samurai refrained from crying out and ignored the cold current nipping at her exposed flesh, firmly determined to maintain her dignity and avoid revealing any kinks in her armor. Waiting helplessly with no idea of what to expect was a challenge, but Izumi told herself that she could at least expect a visit from the noblewoman sooner rather than later.