changing.Hands ((Azhani))

[Cecily Revelier]

Changing Hands
take my hand, take me away

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Back straight, her dark green eyes shone almost black. She was being sold. In broad daylight. Although a woman of average build and appearance, she stood out from the two women beside her. The only resemblance between the three were the tattoos etched onto their stomachs and their wrists. The symbols of the Revelier family.

Cecily's long hair gleamed a fiery red in the afternoon light, a few pieces of cloth that could only have been mistaken as a dress clinging to her figure, sure to reveal her all-important markings. Her confidence, her immaculate performance, none of that mattered now. Her value was determined by the integrity of the black ink on her skin.

"Cici?" the youngest girl said from her place on the ground, back pressed against the cold wall behind her and knees hugged to her blossoming chest. Short brown hair hung over her golden brown eyes. "I don't want to be separated again...."

Cecily frowned. What a ridiculous and useless statement. "You've grown up too sheltered, Holly, if you still believe that we have the right to desires of our own." A third girl shook her head, a strand of blonde hair falling in front of her oval face. She knew that she had no right really to speak, her own life had been far more sheltered than that of other Revelier women. "Hush now. No one will want to come near if they hear you whining."

Hands clasped in front of her lap, feet together and back perfectly straight, Cecily watched the scattering of people pass by along the street. Her face was expressionless, but inwardly she writhed with injured pride.

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((OOC: Sorry for the bad post, I couldn't think of anything. Hopefully, I gave you something to work with.... ))[/size]

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

(OOC: It's no problem. I just needed to work out a way for Azhani to only buy Cecily.)

Azhani was seriously beginning to regret her fight with Kyme. The risk had come nowhere near the reward, let alone outweighing it. She was out a hand, and her back and right leg still hurt. Not to mention her injuries that weren't from her burns. She hadn't stuck around long enough to get any prize money. She didn't need or want it.

What she did want was some assistance. She was never the type to lean on others to do things for her, but walking through the streets with her right arm in a sling and her hand, leg, and cheek bandaged, she didn't suppose she looked like someone who had much of a choice. She needed someone else around who could pick up the slack. As awful as it sounded, company would be nice, too. Despite her profession, Azhani wasn't awfully fond of spending all her time alone.

Which was why she was currently looking to buy a slave.

She'd already talked to an owner looking to sell three sisters. She'd followed the directions she'd been given and, once she'd arrived, quickly scanned the three females. The redheaded one looked, by far, the most secure and confident. She supposed she was the oldest. Honestly, she reminded Azhani of herself. She had the aura of a woman forced to grow up too quickly, to accept harsh realities sooner than any person should ever have to. It was a certain sympathy she'd always had for slaves.

Unfortunately, she also had the bad luck of running into a family. As important as Azhani's family was to her, the thought of breaking up someone else's was unappealing, to say the least. She gestured to the girl. "You - what's your name?"

[Cecily Revelier]

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Three sets of eyes glanced in the speaker's direction. Dark green worked quickly to assess the newcomer. Something had happened, injuries that didn't seem to have occurred completely through accident. There were too many, the placement was inconsistent....

A rough, commanding sort of person, Cecily assumed. Part of her professional pride came in the form of making quick assessments of people, to best inform her of their needs and desires. And to her, it looked like this person needed some form of help.

The voice that spoke was direct, clearly addressing the red-head who waited a moment as she continued looking at the stranger for another moment. Others would have averted their gazes in respect. Cecily had far too much pride. "Cecily," she responded simply without a glance in her sisters' direction. No honorifics, no flowery language. Simple, clear, and direct.

Aside from her head and eyes, the young woman had not moved from her position as the shadow of a smile crept onto her lips. An image flashed in the back of her mind. She had a distinct feeling that she would be the first one to leave her sisters' side.

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

Azhani fought with herself for a moment. On the one hand, she didn't want to seperate a family, but on the other hand, their owner was desperate to sell. A desparate man was an easy mark. She could easily buy the girls for less than their full value, but their owner had been eager to brag about the R... Rev... Their family's "talents." Azhani didn't care much hersef, but she knew a prized posession when she saw one. She had no doubt that there were men who were willing to pay for more for their services than she was, and ask more of them too. She couldn't help but frown.

Without a word, she left the three in search of their owner. She could afford one of them, she was sure: Cecily. She was the oldest. Obviously, she was the one that would be the most comfortable separated from her sisters. The small brunette one didn't stand a chance. Besides that, Cecily was the only one that radiated the pure self-condfidence and assuredness that Azhani needed. On top of her competing to marry an imperial princess, her constant paranoia, current injuries, and the still-ambiguous nature of her presence in Terre de Conte, the last thing she needed to worry about was an incompetent, homesick slave.

Azhani put her hand on her hip as she approached the girls' owner. "How much for all three of them?"

[Cecily Revelier]

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Cecily could see the cogs working in the man's head. He wasn't her Master, who was currently bed-ridden. A slave-trader who had intended to take too large a cut of the sale. She had seen the ensuing argument, the sadness on her kindly, sickly Master's face.

There would be bartering. This was the Terre de Conte slave trade. There was no such thing as a set price. "1,500 gold pieces, since it's three of the most valuable slaves on the market. You look like you're in need of help, so I'll give you a discount. How's 1,000?"

For three accurate fortune-tellers. A typical sales routine, offering a higher price and then a lower one at a later point, trying to make the hiked up prices sound more reasonable. Holly grasped Luca's hand in desperate hope. There was no purpose in feeling that way. The price was ridiculous, none could afford it.

Cecily gave a small smile in her sisters' directions. They took it as assurance, but their assumptions were mistaken. She was preparing to say good-bye. That flash in the back of her mind had told her that she would be leaving that day.

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

Azhani didn't have that kind of money. Not on her, anyway. Her regret over the fight with Kyme was starting to dwindle. In any case, she was glad she'd gone at all. She'd pickpocketed most of the other fighters, at least one noble, and the money her father had given her before leaving. All in all, she had about 800 gold. It wasn't enough for all three, but she was sure it was for something.

The bandit princess took her purse from her side and tossed it to the slave trader. "There. That's 800 gold." She turned back to the girls. She could easily steal another 200 gold. At least...she could have if she could steal from Anactoria. But she couldn't do that. Then again, she couldn't exactly ask for it either. 200 gold was a lot of money, and for slaves... She would figure something out on her own.

She turned back to the slave trader. "I'll give you that now for Cecily, and if you promise not to sell the other two for at least another couple of weeks." The best she could do was buy some time. Even if that was all, she was happy with it. It gave her time to heal, as well as think of a new plan.

[Cecily Revelier]

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The man smiled. He had no intentions of keeping up the deal, the clinking of gold in the bag offered to him was too tantalizing. If he could get a price like that for just one Revelier sister, he wondered greedily what he could get for the other two. "You have yourself a deal, miss," he said, his words honeyed and smooth as he waved for Cecily to near.

The red-head tilted her head slightly to the side, Holly clinging to the hem of her skirt. That was a far higher price than she was sure that she was worth. However, if her Master - or, previous Master - was to have her sold, it would only make sense for her to fetch a high price.

Her pride remained injured, but at least it would remain in tact. A small smile in her sister's direction and the younger girl let go, clinging to her remaining sister. "Yes, Sir?" she asked, quickly making her way toward them, small light steps gliding her across the ground.

"Here's your new Mistress...."

As if she wasn't aware. The young woman gave a serene smile, her back straight and her posture perfect as she gave a low bow in the other woman's direction. "If Mistress doesn't mind, can this one ask your name?"

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

Azhani smiled, though she didn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. She had slowly come to despise the criminal world of Terre de Conte. In Z'hakaat, it was a cardinal rule that thieves trusted each other. That didn't say much for anyone else, but it gave citizens some sense of security. You obeyed the law or you died. Where she came from, it was as simple as that. Azhani suddenly felt like she were on the other side of that law. She had to accept that she was a long way from where she came from.

She smiled at her new slave. "I don't mind." She put her left hand on her hip, close to the handle of one of her kukris. "My name is Basta." She spun on her heels and withdrew her right arm from its sling, jamming her elbow into the slave trader's chest and pinning him against the nearest wall. In an instant, she had one of her blades to his throat. "And I don't appreciate being lied to."

Azhani elbowed the man in the chest. Hard. "Our deal has changed. Now, I said I would pay you the rest of that 200 gold, and I will. So you give me Cecily and you hold her sisters indefinitely. In return, you can take that 800 gold, and I will spare your life. Do you understand?" She pressed her kukri harder against his throat. "Or I can simply kill you now, take my money, and all three sister and be on my merry way. And before you answer, please consider that I knew you were lying before, and I'll know if you do again."

[Cecily Revelier]

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Basta? What an interesting name. Clearly a foreign one, quite unlike the name of a citizen of Terre de Conte. Despite herself, a surprised gasp escaped from Cecily's lips as her new Mistress pinned the slave-seller in one quick, fluid motion.

The man coughed and spluttered. Tall though he was, he was not a physical being. He was a salesman with all of the conniving, honeyed language of any other salesperson. He wasn't cut out for action.

Continued coughing reddened his features as he fought to regain the breath that this woman had abruptly thrust from his chest. "F-fine...I won't...sell them..."

The shock quickly wore off and once again, Cecily's arms found their way across her chest. What an interesting new Mistress she had. The red-head hadn't noticed the faint ghost of a smile that had begun to form at the edges of her lips. She was sure that she would be put to hard work from now on. Life certainly wasn'tgoing to be boring.

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

Azhani smiled sweetly. She sheathed her weapon and backed off a bit. "Good, because I'd hate to find you again and be disappointed. And I can find you," she said as she lightly slapped his cheek a few times. She turned back to Cecily and smiled after a moment. Walking towards her, she put her hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you find this so entertaining," she said playfully. "I'd be terribly disappointed to have a humorless servant."

Sighing, the princess took the sling from around her neck and tossed it to the ground. She'd only worn it to discourage herself from trying to use her right hand, but it limited her entire arm. It hadn't been much use after all...

"Well, let's go," she told Cecily, letting her go. She put her good hand on her hip and began walking. It was a moment before a thought occurred to her. She turnd to the redheaded woman yet again. "Tell me, Cecily, do you know any place to buy flowers?"

[Cecily Revelier]

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Cecily was not a servant. That lack of distinction was almost insulting. She was property, and damn proud. What was stranger, however, was the arm slung around her shoulder. It was almost as though she were being treated as human.

Well, that certainly couldn't have been the case, since Cecily most definitely was not human. She was a Revelier. She was a slave. All people had their quirks, perhaps this Mistress liked to refer to her property as though they were human?

"This one is glad to finally be the property of someone appreciates her sense of humor," she said, the hint of a smile still glinting in her dark eyes. She raised an eyebrow curiously as Basta shed the sling that had previously encased her arm.

A hand on her own hip mimicked the other woman's posture. "This one knows many places. Are you interested in cheap or ethical?" the edge of her lip twitching with a repressed smile. There was a dark side to every sort of industry, even one so seemingly benign as flower sales.

[Fa'raazhin Azhani]

Azhani didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused at Cecily's constant refernece to herself as 'this one.' She didn't see why the girl couldn't simply use 'I', but she supposed that was just part of being a slave in Terre de Conte. She wouldn't know. In Zhakaat, slaves were much different, and she had never owned one. She did have a collection of servants, but that was much different.

She raised an eyebrow at Cecily's imitation of her, but said nothing. Taking a moment to consider the answer, she replied, "Ethical." She wasn't aware that there was a difference. She took a small step to the side, just enough to put herself in the way of a man walking in the opposite direction. "Sorry," she said as they collided and she snatched a small bag of money from him.

Azhani turned back to Cecily. "I suppose I should tell you that my name isn't Basta. It's Azhani, and I'm not from Terre de Conte. In fact, it's my first time visiting here. I'm looking to buy flowers for someone special. As long as they're beautiful, price is not an issue."