Another place, another master. Luna was used to the routine, used to the shackles, to the hot iron of the brand. He had a new brand now, but was used to pain, so it barely registered. At the moment, he was just waiting in the plush, well-appointed bedroom, not actually noticing any of the finery around him. The elf had never been impressed with such things, as in the end they meant nothing. All he gleaned from such surroundings was that his master was extremely rich, possibly royal. He'd heard some talk between the slaver and his purchaser- some high official or other- but not much to effect. Though sex slaves were a common and encouraged commodity, the official had seen fit to treat the matter as though it was some delicate operation, not naming names. Luna didn't care either way, as rank never had anything bearing on how cruel his master would be. Such finery usually masked monsters. That was his experience, anyway. At least the mattress under his knees was soft. He'd had to kneel in the traditional slave's pose on worse. In his experience, he could be there for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. It was hard to tell, sometimes. His new master could want him then, or be too drunk to do anything until later. Luna was glad to take a few moments of calm, where it was just himself in the room, listening to the fire crackle in the grate. When things got hot and sticky and painful he'd just send his mind away, as he always did. For now, he was fighting the urge to try and catch a few winks. Trying to keep awake, Luna shifted slightly on the mattress, pressing his palms more firmly against his bare white thighs. At the moment, he didn't even have the dignity of the traditional flimsy tunic usually given to sex slaves when they were not being used. Hopefully he'd get one before too long- Luna knew more or less what to expect from this whole thing. The short tunic that barely covered him, small rations, little sleep. The most that could be said of masters was at least there was some sort of routine. Once he had their behavior patterns figured out, he usually knew when he could sleep or eat. Or when he could sing. He never did so in earshot, if he could help it, but he would still create in his head. It was just a wordless tune he'd either made up or learned somewhere, he couldn't remember; his mind was often so fractured that such thoughts wouldn't come clearly like they should. He could remember what happened in the immediate past, so long as it stayed immediate. He could recall and follow his master's commands, but past masters, their secrets, their sins, were all vague and shadowy once he had gone to the next master. It was a coping mechanism, possibly, the mind shoving irrelevant information to the back so he had only what he needed to survive. At the moment, he just needed to focus on his inner music and send his mind away, but he was still very much on guard. The moment he heard anyone coming near him, he would be in the present again.