Merce'des
Countess
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.:|| I'll Use The Needle Of My Compass To Sow Up My Broken...Heart ||:.
Joined: Aug 2006
Posts: 32
Karma: 3 |  | Re: Buying a slave
« Result #10 on Sept 17, 2007, 6:56pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Tristan's cold and sorrowed glance flitted aorund the area. There were crying children, orphans, old women and men, and other slaves of all sorts. What made them any worse than the nobles, anyhow? He wasn't in the best of moods. He didn't belong here! He had been loved, cared for, respected, and now this. This hell on earth. He almost swore revenge on the son of his old masters. In his master's will, they had left everything to Trsitan, wanting to teach their greedy, and cruel-hearted son a lesson. He hadn't deseved it! Unkowingly, though, the devil had burned the will, and no one would asume that they would leave everythin to him the slave.
He was so sorrowful, morose in hte way he sat, the way he looked, the way he gazed out over the people searching for a slave. He was not a slave, he was a son. He didn't look like it now. His clothes were worn and old, shredded and dull, after only a few weeks of being without his home. his pride, his clothing, belongings had all been stripped from him. His usually happy character didn't shine through at all, and no one looking at him would ever gues that he were ever happy at all. His blonde hair was as well kept as possible, and he tried to retain some of his dignity.
He watched as a woman, dressed in blue wlaked off a ship. How noble she was, graceful in her step, her beauty seeming to radiate form her. Hpw he envyed her then, for she had all that he was entitled to. He looked away with disgust, but he couldn't help taking one last glance at her. In his heart, he couldn't blame her for his loss, though it pained him. He had a good heart, and knew she had nothing to do with it. His mind told him to blame her, but his heart told him not to, and he couldn't help but realize how lovely she was.
The salesman turned to her, old and grey, too many wrinkles to othingy, and with not such a cheerful disposition. "We don't have perfect slaves here, Mademoiselle." he said gruffly. "He might do." she said simply, pointing to Tristan. He then turned back to his money. He had no reason to be polite. People bought slaves, and if she didn't buy, someone else would.
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