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Date Posted: 16:29:10 04/15/02 Mon
Author: Tristan
Subject: Waiting for the healer
In reply to: Marz, Tia, Jeremy 's message, "More than a few things" on 10:12:49 04/15/02 Mon

Tristan tensed automatically as Marz flung the closet door open, but there was no immediate attack forthcoming. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the outwardly harmless pair standing huddled together in the gloom, his expression softening somewhat when he saw the girl. Marz liked kids, he remembered, though his own gaze hardened when he caught her looking up at him.

He felt something strange stir within him when the boy with the almond-shaped eyes and soft black hair introduced himself and the girl as slaves. Slavery was a distinct privilege on his world; the more a person could claim to own, the more influence he or she could be said to carry. The Elder had so many mortals under her command that she likely didn’t even know them all, and those dragons near her equal in rank had their own vast herds. Young dragons might have only one or two, while fledglings had yet to attaint the social status required to purchase such merchandise.

Tristan was very naïve in that he could only speculate on what his kind used their mortals for. Naturally, his father sheltered him from what he considered an immoral practice. Even when he lived with Odarin, the older dragon vehemently shunned slavery, as most outcasts did. But for all practical purposes, he assumed the slaves were well treated. They got to live better than most mortals did, without having to worry about food or shelter.

As he grew older, though, his eyes were opened a bit more. Dragons occasionally formed emotional attachments to certain slaves, but the affection would be akin to a mortal and his pet dog or cat. Should their master or mistress become angry, slaves could expect to be beaten severely, depending on the dragon’s general mood and disposition. Just as some people will coddle their pets to no end, others will kick them or even kill them simply to release stress or tension brought on by anger. A slave might be neglected, too, if the dragon grew bored with it, allowing the mortal to simply starve to death and waste away, unloved and already forgotten.

Now that he was a little bit more worldly when it came to the sensual aspects of life, Tristan suspected that slaves were often used for other things, as well. And since a dragon could never impregnate a human, or vice versa, it was probably considered an acceptable way to entertain oneself. It made since why some slaves might fetch a higher price on the market, too. Someone like Marz, he thought, reflecting on his lover’s incredible expertise in bed, would likely be worth a fortune.

Like most young dragons, Tristan had always wanted a slave. He was raised, however, to respect life, mortals and immortals alike, and the wish became shoved into the back of his brain, if not snuffed out completely. It was simple jealousy that made him want to have what the others had, though he had no idea what he should do with a slave if he ever got one. And now that he had come to know and love his mortal friends and lover, he would never, ever condone slavery—though the idea might still make him wonder, and wish to one day be just like the others back home.

Tristan shook himself from his thoughts and focused on the two people in the closet again. When the little girl, Ablina, asked if they were going to be killed, he thought she might start screaming again. He scowled at her when she met his eyes a second time, making her cringe back against her protector, Noyko. Instinctively, he knew Marz would love her, which made him frown. Children made him feel very awkward, and now this one would probably be constantly at their feet, since Marz had a tendency to attract children to him so easily.

After Noyko finished explaining who and what they were, Marz finally nodded and seemed to accept his story. He bent down and retrieved the knife before telling Tristan that they ought to take the pair to Val first, as well as find out what had happened to Jeremy. Seemed like a reasonable plan, so Tristan shrugged and prodded Noyko forward, giving the other youth a testy look when he stumbled a bit.

“Help him out, Tris,” Marz instructed, bending down to scoop up Ablina in his arms. Tristan huffed under his breath and glared down at Noyko who blinked innocently back up at him.

“Forgive me for appearing so weak to my new masters,” he said, obviously trying to cover up the pain he was experiencing. Tristan sighed and gave a little smirk before crouching down beside him.

“This dragon doesn’t believe in slavery, Noyko,” he said quietly, staring intently into the other youth’s eyes. “So don’t call me master.” Before Noyko could reply, Tristan carefully lifted him into his arms, his face remaining as guarded as ever as he began to descend the stairs behind Marz. “Shut up,” he snapped, when Noyko attempted to thank him for his aid. He was only helping the former slave anyway because Marz had told him to. Otherwise, to be honest, Tristan would have simply said, “Fine,” to their story and turned around, leaving them to fend on their own again. Compassion was just something he reserved solely for his friends—although when he did give it, he gave every ounce of himself that he possibly could.

They made their way back outside, where they encountered Tia and Rowan, who had a burden of his own. A bloodied up, unconscious Jeremy lay cradled in his arms, the elf’s face looking very solemn indeed as he set the boy down gently on the ground. He eased behind Jeremy so that he could rest his head in his lap, then Tia sat down beside him so they could wait for Val, since Marz told them that he had told Erlic to fetch the healer immediately.

Tristan set Noyko down, as well, absently commanding his charge to sit down and keep out of trouble. When the youth silently complied with his wishes, he stopped short and shot him a surprised look. Noyko simply stared back up at him, a look of complete passivity on his face. Tristan honestly couldn’t say whether the expression intrigued or disturbed him, so he just decided not to think about it at all.

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