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- Multiple posts per day
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- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
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- Prestige
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- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
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- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Ysella Ronasin
"Sellable…" The words felt flat, without inflection, and Ysella glanced to the fire as she shook her head, "You could let me go. My father… he'd reward you, I'm sure. Please. I… I just want to go home."
Regan poured himself a cup of cocoa and watched Ysella with almost amusement flickering in his indifferent looking eyes. He smiled approvingly at the contents of his cup, nodding to himself before speaking to the woman before him once again.
"If your father has the mind to come here and buy you, then you get to go home," he said. "I can't let you go, though. Otherwise, I got to kill you. See it now? You either want to live, or you want to die. And there's no guarantee someone else won't pay for you before daddy gets here. You got any other skills, darling, or is this what we're left with?"
Her heart gave a jolt at his words, but outwardly there appeared only defeat. She would never give up. Not until she was home safely… but there were better ways to manage men like Regan than arguing logic…
"I'm a diplomat, Regan." She said simply, sitting up, "I'm paid to deliver secrets of uttermost importance between crucial heads of state. I'm sure I don't need to explain the benefit, here?"
The stool he sat upon creaked with the shift of his weight as he mulled over the prospects of the skill. Further down into the cave, a cry of pain echoed. No one seemed to pay it any mind. "How am I supposed to sell a snitch?" he asked.
Other men began to filter back into the cave, one of them handing over a key to Regan. "The hunter?" Regan asked as he handed the key over to Ysella. His eyes were still trained on his men in questioning, trusting the woman would take the key on her own with the presentation.
"Eh, he might be useful if he doesn't die," one of them said. "You know how hunters are. No guarantees he won't try and break out."
"Get Seir to bring him in here," he commanded, and with a nod they set back out.
It shouldn't have given her any sense of hope, yet somehow, in spite of herself, Ysella breathed out a sigh of relief upon hearing Ilai was alive. Certain was always better than uncertain, and he, at least had never intended to take advantage of her…
Looking to Regan, she shook her head, as she palmed the key held out to her, "You sell me as an informant. People will pay a lot for that sort of information. And I can't imagine your clientele are particularly concerned towards the morality of the purchases. They're buying people, after all."
Sitting back on his stool, Regan took another sip from his battered tin cup. "Mm, well, you got me there," he said with a chuckle, "but informants are risky as slaves. They always want to go off on their own and run away, which once I pocket my money I don't give a damn. You understand I got to find a dumbass and convince him to buy you as an informant? There might be one in Nabannon. Eh. Got any other skills?"
"Extreme patience…" She muttered, as she pushed the key into the lock and twitched it. There was a click and the clasp fell open, she breathed out, pulling the collar away. How long would it even last? Freedom…
"I'll be honest with you, Regan… as you've been honest with me. I intend to escape, regardless of what you sell me as. So you might as well make it up to suit whatever will give you the greatest payout." Running a hand across her neck, flinching at the raw skin there, she looked tentatively to the man, "The hunter… You ought to see to it he survives. He's an ass, but he's gifted. You'll get your money's worth with him."
The rest of the men returned with Ilai in tow, pushing the hunter towards Regan, forcing him to his knees and holding him up by his hair. Ilai spared a glance over to Ysella, his expression stern and tense. Regan stood and set his cup on the stool, fingers brushing through the tip of his beard.
"She's a hefty bounty, Regan," the burly thug, Seir, reported. "More than what we could sell her for."
"Is it legitimate?" Regan asked.
"It's reasonable," Seir responded with a slight shrug of one shoulder. "He said the commissioner would likely be a Shadow Caster."
"Worth the travel, then? We've got the numbers to take on a Caster," Regan said, "but if it isn't worth the hassle we may as well sell her off to the next sex trade."
"It's your call, but I say it's worth it," the thug remarked.
There was a moment of quiet between them as Regan thought it over, and then he nodded his head. "Alright," he said. "Go put them in The Box. Can't have them running off on me."
Two men approached Ysella as the others yanked Ilai to his feet by his hair. "Don't bruise her," Regan commanded. "Keep her skin smooth just in case. If you got to, just knock her out."
Rising, Ysella's eyes narrowed at the man, "You're making a mistake, Regan… And it won't pay off." Her eyes turned to the men and she nodded, "You'll get no trouble. Let's go"
The two men exchanged looks, huffing a chuckle before escorting their captives to the caravan carts further into the cave that opened back out into the rolling hills. Other men, and a few sparing women, readied the carts and their horses for a coming travel. There were other captives in cages that watched on as Ysella and Ilai were thrown into an iron cart and locked securely. It was dark inside, and cold against the metal.
A grunt escaped Ilai as he situated himself to sit upright. "Fortune favors us," he said sarcastically. "We've run into a Caravan."
Her eyes moved as Ilai spoke and her lip twitched up into a smirk, "I'm beginning to think you've been poorly misinformed about what fortune is, Ilai." Shifting across the cage, she dropped down beside him, "Seems we're going to need to work together to get out of here. How are you? I might be able to convince them to bring supplies to patch you up.... But you'll need to be on your best behavior. Think you can manage?"
"I can manage," he assured. While he could barely make out her silhouette from the dim light that cast through the small window slats, he could make out enough of her both physically and in tone that she was genuine in her offer. The issue still stood, however, that Ilai wanted to refuse her aid entirely, lest he find himself indebted to the bounty.
"I think I'll be alright," he added. "The beast bit me, but a day or two of rest to let it heal will do it some good. How's the leg?"
"Oh… You can't really be that stupid, Ilai. You've lost a lot of blood, but that's not the concern here. Do you understand how dangerous an infection is? And believe me… I don't like you, not in the slightest, but I am not cruel enough to suffer even you to that fate. Especially since I'm not likely to get out of this without you." Her eyes moved to his, frowning gingerly, "Now… Where's the worst of it?"
Reluctance was still evident as he hesitated to respond. "My shoulder," he said. "What's the difference between me and them? We're all going to the same place, you know."
Leaning forward, she glanced at his shoulder, biting the edge of her lip as she investigated the wound. Where fabric hadn't dried into it was a dark rusty brown where blood was clotted unevenly, "You may be a scoundrel, Ilai… but you made your intentions clear from the start. I abhor men who would make the pretense of friendship when their motives are less than honorable. That man's first question to me was on the matter of my chastity." Meeting his gaze, she held it for a pointed moment, "I don't imagine I need to explain to you why that makes you the lesser of two evils."
Leaning forward was a bit of a strain for Ilai, a grunt escaping him as he moved his back away from the wall of the iron box. Outside men spoke to each other, their words muffled by the walls between. "I know Caravans are unforgiving towards women," he answered softly. "I may be taking you to your death, but… If you can believe it, I can't let that happen. Don't think too much on it."
He huffed a laugh at the strangeness of his own mind, quick to change the focus away from it with a change in subject. "How bad is it?" he asked.
"I do believe you." And it surprised her in a way, to say as much. She wanted to think the absolute worst of the man, but for all his flaws, he hadn't tried anything inappropriate towards her the night prior, and that meant something.
Also glad for the change in subject, she reached out and gingerly, shifted the fabric away as best she could, "It needs cleaned… and dressed properly. It'll scar, that's certain."
Pushing upright, she moved to the small slatted window and called out, "Hello? Someone there??"
The voices around them carried on, tones echoing down the chamber of the cave. The Box shook and clattered as they were secured to a hitch, horses snorting and scuffing as they were guided into place. Ysella's call was being ignored, and even in looking out at the men she could see they did not spare a glance to the iron box, nor did they look upon their captives in the other cages among the caravan. It was only their kind they spoke to, offering commands or suggestions or banter in their work.
"Ah, don't bother," Ilai said dismissively, and rested back on the metal wall. It felt cold against his wounds helping to numb its pain. "We'll just need to think more quickly on our escape. They'll need to go to the nearest town and check for bounty postings. See if they can find yours. All they know is to head to the Twisted Woods. They don't know where exactly. Dumbasses never asked as much. They'll eventually tend to me. I think they're going to use me to collect the prize and swoop in if things go sour. Just sit back, and try not to be too annoying."
Making a face, she moved back and sank down beside him, "I am not annoying." Her eyes flickered briefly to his wound again and concern flashed through her eyes, "You just don't like me because I remind you of what you are…"
He huffed a laugh, brow furrowing at her comment. "I know what I am," he said plainly. "You're not reminding me, just stating the obvious. And that is what can get a bit annoying."
"And you can just accept it?" She asked, a brow lifted. Her tone held no accusations for once, only curiosity, "You're perfectly fine with the man you are? Never wanted to be anything more? Anything better?"
Another call of shouts came about outside as the Caravaners announced their departure. The Box lurched forward and began its slow journey into sunlight that pierced into the dark enclosure providing a bit more light than before. Ilai looked over at Ysella thoughtfully, head bobbing with the rickety course of the road. "Everyone lives with the life they're given," he said. "We all learn to make the best of what we have. We all have variations on what brings peace or content or sadness or joy. Are you perfectly fine with the woman you are?"
As they lurched forward, she took a breath and leaned back into the bars, "Not perfectly, no. But I think I'm a decent person. At least I tried to be… I give the most in what I do." Staring ahead, she frowned gingerly, "Would I have chosen the same path if I thought I could go elsewhere? Perhaps not… but I suppose it doesn't matter much, now. What about you? Would you pick another life if you could? Who would you be?"
He hummed in thought for a moment. "Perhaps the Queen of Bastillos," he said with a chuckle. "Lavish life she lives. Practically dictates the livelihood of Edros. Imagine me in those fancy robes. Then again, in that life I would be a pretty woman. Wouldn't look as silly."
Despite her better efforts, Ysella laughed and for a moment, only a moment, the anxiety in her ebbed away, and she appeared every bit the young, vulnerable woman she was, "Be fair. It's not all lavish. It's a hard life in its own right, for someone so young. Though you are awfully pretty. The robes might suit you."
"It's the hair," he said as he ruffled a hand through the mess of dark curls. "Frames my face and gives me that bit of intrigue women have. Hmm, if I were the Queen of Bastillos my robes would be of blue like the night. But with little gems like stars. Am I doing this right?" Another chuckle escaped him, and he flicked the end of his hair.
"What sort of life would you pick if you could?" he asked.
Another soft chuckle escaped and Ysella shook her head, "I'm not sure right is the word for it… but you are putting a terrible lot of thought into it and I suppose that's admirable" The smile faded at his question, however, amd pausing, she turned her gaze forward.
"I… I don't know. I suppose I never really thought about it much. I was always just… prepared for this role. I imagine it might be interesting to... " Swallowing, she folded her knees up to her chest, chin resting against them, "To be a physician. To help people get well again."
"People in Bastillos need good physicians, from what I've heard," he said. "I suppose the caves can only be so good for so long. Would you help the poor get well, too? That uprising still stings a few of your kind. Surprised they could manage it."
"For someone so obsessed with earning his bit of coin, Ilai, you're ironically concerned for the poor." Looking at him again, she frowned, "Don't forget that people on both sides died in that war. Poor and rich alike. Yes… I would help them. I would help anyone who needed it. Because apathy solves nothing. Violence solves nothing. It didn't make the poor any less poor, it didn't open the eyes of the rich to see their own folly… It didn't stop you and I from ending up in this cage."
Turning her eyes away, she blinked, gaze distant, "I injured a man for absolutely no reason… We didn't even get away."
A smile broke on his lips briefly at her comments, a small laugh escaping through his nose in almost a sigh. "That injury could be enough to stop them from using you before they sell you," he said. "Women who do that aren't easy prey. They would snag the weak ones. But your stunt with the bow affords you some breadth. And I would say that violent uprising from your slaves granted them freedom to now fight for better pay. Ah, hm, let me count on my fingers, here, I must be mistaken. You said violence solves nothing yet I count two examples where it has."
A brow lifted and for a second, the corner of her lip twitched, before she shook her head, "We can argue semantics all day, Ilai. But in the end, violence solves nothing that conversation can't also fix. I could have talked my way out of that situation, but instead, I panicked and I chose a cruder method."
A sigh escaped, and her eyes drifted to the cage door, "Maybe it was better, because of what you said they would have done otherwise, but I lost something, either way. And the slaves? Maybe they're free, but they're also on their own. And people on their own struggle significantly more than those under protection. It's all well and good to look at the bigger picture, but under the surface there are nuances that make all the difference and reacting violently… it almost never ends well for everyone."
Looking to him again, she smiled faintly, apprehensively, "You and I are a perfect example of a situation that has no predictable outcome. I could have left you. I should have, all things considered… But I didn't, and I still don't entirely understand why, but I do know that things would not look the way they do now, had I made another choice. We have a chance… not much of one… but a chance to get out of this. But that might mean using an approach you're not entirely accustomed to. I need to know if you're capable of looking beyond your instincts…"
"I can't guarantee that," he answered plainly. "But we need to get out of here. If you have a plan, I'm willing to hear it. But if it's shit I won't do it."
"Interestingly enough… You might like it, as it has at least the illusion of what you're used to. They need me in good condition in case this goes poorly. And they've no real notion that you and I are even willing to work together. In fact, I rather encouraged them to sell you, too. Sorry, but I figured it was the best way to implore them to keep you alive. At any rate, when those doors open, you need to pretend that you're willing to kill me… I know it will be difficult, considering how close we've become…" She smirked, before continuing, "But they don't want damaged goods. Not when they aren't even sure the bounty on my head requires me to be alive and well. It's my thoughts given the way Regan was so concerned about bruising that they won't risk hurting me to get to you, and if we can get out of the cage, we can make another run for it."
"I go to kill you," Ilai began thoughtfully. "And then what? They'll pull us apart and get you to safety and wait to see how badly you're bruised. You've got the chance to run. Who's to say I won't get skewered for my efforts in the ruse? Doesn't seem at all in my favor."
"You're a powerful man, Ilai… Do you think they'd risk trying to get me away from you by force? Regan might be a disgusting opportunistic pig, but he's smart… Extremely smart. If he wants me in one piece, he won't hurt you. Just be convincing enough, and they'll let us walk out of here if only so they can come after us in the open."
"You'll have to be between them and me," he said. "They'll put a sword in my gut to make me stop. I'll have to use you as a shield to stop that from happening. You willing to do that?"
Nodding, she looked to him, "I am. I trust you." And she was surprised, a little, to find she meant it. Perhaps she would never fully trust him or his intentions to the degree she might someone met under better circumstances, but a man in a desperate situation wasn't likely to betray his best shot at survival, "Though if you get me killed, I will haunt you until the end of your days."
His eyes narrowed somewhat at the mention of trust. The light through the slats at the top of the Box made it easier to study her features, to see how genuine she felt towards her own words. "Lucky for me," he began, "there's no such thing as ghosts." He huffed a laugh, playfully dismissing her serious tone to allow him time for his own introspection. Why he trusted him was not something he could easily understand. Ilai knew he could exploit her compassion. He could trust her only to a certain degree, and at some point she would turn against him in favor of her own survival.
He could barely lift up his arm due to the muscle fatigue, and so he slid up the wall by his legs to bring himself to a stand. The height of the Box was enough to keep the slats too far up to look out, and so he just stared up into the sky he could see. "I've run from a Caravan once before," he said. "It won't be easy." He looked over to Ysella with a more serious expression adorned. "You'll need to be more selfish. When we make a run for it you can't be as stupid this time. You run now, your next capture won't end well, but it will end. If I fall behind, it's on me. Do you understand? I'll leave you behind just as quick, if knowing that will make a difference."
For a moment, she was quiet as she considered his words. She wanted to say it was an easy decision - but she had thought that earlier, and still had chosen to stay and fight… Maybe because in reality the idea of leaving a man to his death was a lot more difficult than in theory. She wanted to believe that she could look at all he'd done, all that he deserved and forgo her emotions… but her empathy had tripped her up once. What was to say it wouldn't happen a second time.
"Don't worry about that…" She said, instead, "We've have to get out, first… and that will take enough of our concentration. We can worry about the rest, later."