Fallen Soldier: Pale x Disco

[PalePersonage]

*It's hot outside, that's for sure... *
Mikhail felt the prodding blade against his back and marched onward, the shuffling of his shackled feet, weight of his bound hands and roar of the crowd taking over his mind at the moment. Sunlight filtered through the rough sack over his head. He nearly tripped over the first roughly constructed wooden step, the tip of the sword at his back, unyielding, spilled a single drop of crimson from his aching body as he hefted his tired legs up the steps. With a roar of the crowd his mask was lifted and sunlight flooded his squinting eyes.
It was high noon, he was in the Maxton's Crown Colosseum, and with the crowd of angry and excited faces before him, his life itself was about to be put on the auction block. His name was Mikhail, his crime was desertion, and he was about to become... a slave.

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

A thin layer of cloth shaded Lana's face, protecting her from the sun and from notice. She looked, for all the world, like every other woman in the enormous stadium. Piercing green eyes stared out from the sea of people, watching as the captives were marched out onto the platform. A pouch full of gold dangled at her waist, jingling like the golden bracelets around her ankles and wrists. She pushed forward through the crowd to get a closer look at the merchandise for sale. Her tiny frame was jostled by the excited spectators, almost knocking her over several times. As much as she wanted to lash out, she restrained herself, ignoring the loud people that surrounded her. It was difficult to see around all of the moving bodies but it would have been impossible to look over them with her limited height. She stopped just a few feet from the stage and waited for the auction to begin. One way or another, she would be taking one of these slaves home.

 

[PalePersonage]

The sun beat down on Mikhails pale shoulders, years of hiding in the lower streets, ducking into corners, surviving in the shadows had faded his once bronze skin. They had stripped his shirt off long ago, wanting to show off his physique for the auction. His torso, well defined and scarred, showed a life of hard work and close calls with death, a stab wound on his left pec, a slash across his stomach, an arrow wound right where his heart should be. There was however, one mark there by design, a large, hollow black sun, beginning on his right pec, the sun's ebon rays coiling up his deltoid and neck, and down his torso. His dark pants and boots were standard issue military, the last of his possessions. Gazing out across the crowd as his vision adjusted, he spotted a plethora of people. Soldiers, peasants, well-to-do's and shady types, all apparently interested in today's goings-on. He thought of fighting his way out, but turning to the right down the stage he noticed not only a smattering of other men and women, all in shackles, but also ten guards, far too many for him to handle alone, even at his best. He bore a stern expression, putting up a strong front. *If these people want me, they can have me... I'm tired of running, tired of feeding on the scraps on the street, fighting over bread, always on the run. At least as a gladiator I'll know what's I'll be in for, and well fed to keep up my strength. At least the combat in the arena will be clean cut, no charades, no back-stabbing, no lies... there were so many lies... *
Three people in the crowd drew his attention. One was a burly man he recognized from years ago, heavy set, built like a tank. Gordon Blackshire, a mercenary from the war. The second was a pointy-ear, male or female he could never tell, accompanied by four guards in uniform, obviously here to replenish their stable of humans to use as sparring partners, but the third...
The third was a gleaming pair of emerald eyes, scanning back and forth across the stage. She seemed so frail, so small, but she had somehow made her way to the forefront of the crowd, no easy task. What someone of her stature would want with a combatant... it boggled his mind and piqued his interest.

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

A light breeze blew through the crowd, wafting the smell of unwashed bodies and desperation past her nose. The edges of her scarf waved in the wind, allowing her hair to fall into her face. The stray black tendrils cascaded down her back, tips stretching to her waist. The stark white of her dress contrasted with the bronze of her skin and the jewel tone of her eyes, giving her an exotic appearance, even from the tiny bit of skin that could be seen. Under the thin fabric of her face covering, her full mouth was pursed in an expression of discontent and thought. She had been surveying the potential candidates one by one, looking for the perfect prospect. Times were changing and, much as she hated to admit it, it was becomming more difficult to protect herself and her assets. Her parents had constantly pushed her to take a husband but had not been pleased with her choice, forbidding the relationship. After her parents died, she had thought to marry him only to find that he had been killed during the war. In the 3 years following, she had been alone. The vast fortune that she had inherited was not enough to keep her warm or happy. Though this purchase was mainly for protection, she also wanted someone to keep her company, and to obey her dictates. Being powerless did not suit her and she would relish having someone at her beck and call. Finally, her eyes came to rest on the hulking figure of a man. She wasn't sure if he was genuinely large or if it was more to do with her own physical shortcomings. Regardless, she was immediately interested. His body sported multiple scars, battle wounds from the looks of him, and the military gear did not escape her notice. He seemed much better equiped for the type of work that she had in mind, and he wasn't bad looking to boot. Now all that was left to do was secure her bounty and take him home. She scanned the crowd to be sure that there was no one who could potentially outbid her. There were a few notable people but no one that worried her. Turning back to the platform, she smiled beneath her face covering, waiting for the bidding to begin.

 

[PalePersonage]

A well dressed man walked briskly up to the top of the platform, grinning ear to ear, pandering to the crowd. He obviously enjoyed his job, enjoyed the attention. Mikhail turned silently to him and then back to the crowd, sighing to himself. *This is ridiculous... such people... *
The man called out to the crowd, went down the line of people on the auction block, scruffing hair, pinching biceps, stroking cheeks, slapping Mikhail on the shoulder, and proceded to the bidding on the first slave. He was a young man, 22 at the oldest, charged of thievery. The auctioneer described him as quick-witted, agile, fast on his feet. His youth and lack of scars would make him a true favorite to view in the arena as a combatant.
As the bidding began, the auctioneer pointed to the raised hands in the crowd, egged them on, and slowly walked to Mikhail, slapping him again on the shoulder. He leaned in close. "You... my friend... you're going to make us quite a bit of money... though the news of your treachery has fallen into the past, there was one gentlemen in particular I knew would be here, willing to pay greatly for your hide... my personal guest... " The man pointed out across the crowd to the mercenary, and Mikhail growled between his teeth. "Ah, so you know the esteemed Mr. Blackshire..." He smirked once more and quickly darted back to the other side of the stage, continuing the bidding. Mikhail would be next... and he was not looking forward to his fate.

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

Lana waited patiently as the bidding started. The first up was much too young and inexperienced to do her much good, not to mention the crime he had been charged with. She may as well have thrown her money in the street if she was going to allow a thief to live in her home. Still, his youth made her cringe inwardly. He couldn't have been much older than she was herself yet the contrast between them was glaring. Her fortune was based on a happy accident of birth, just as his misfortune was likely to stem from being born into poverty. It was times like these that she couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for all that she had and for such a strong desire to keep it to herself. Steeling her emotions, she pulled her eyes away from the slender youth and turned them towards her future aquisition. The auctioneer was saying something to him and she could see the tightening in his jaw as he looked in the direction of the pointed finger. Her curious nature demanded that she direct her gaze in the same direction. It seemed to be directed at a wealthy looking man whom she had met a time or two but could not remember the name of. Obviously, she was not the only person interested in this particular prize and she instinctually dropped her hand to the pouch at her waist, weighing the gold in her fingers. If need be, she could always send a messenger to the bank to collect more funds for her purchase but it would take more time than she cared to spend on this particular venture. She hoped that she had enough because she had no desire to stand around in the crowded market place. The smell had already started to make her feel faint and she was sure that the stench would cling to her clothing. She was glad that she had worn something plain to shop in because it would be burned at the end of the day.

 

[PalePersonage]

As the young scalawag was sold off the guards moved in close to the next person on the platform, Mikhail. The air got a bit more tense. Unfurling a small scroll the auctioneer posed and spoke...
"For crimes against his own nation... for deserting his brethren at arms in the midst of combat... for turning his back against his duties as a soldier and as a man... Mikhail Pendlewood is brought before you today, stripped of all rights, to be sold at auction!"
Tossing the scroll behind him he smirked. "May the bidding commence!"
For a split second a shiver went through Mikhail's bound, sweat-slicked body, knowing that this was the moment when everything changed, when it all became real, the past would catch up to him completely. *When I signed up for service, I never thought I would be captured by my own countrymen, that imprisonment, subservience be my fate, only death... *
After only a couple of meager bids, Blackshire rose his beefy, leathery arm and placed a bid of 400 gold, almost twice the price of the last slave, and Mikhail's eyes grew wide, turning his neck to his would-be-owner, biceps and neck flexing in quiet rage.

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

Lana was glad that the bidding ended quickly. How these people could stand being near each other was beyond her grasp. She listened intently as his crime was announced, slightly suprised by the information. Deserters were usually cowards or just too selfish to lay down their lives for the good of their country. This man did not look like he was either of those things. It did put a damper on her interest but only momentarily. After a moment the thought of her lost love circled back into her mind. If he had taken the easy way out she would be buying his freedom today instead of someone else's servitude. Still, she was saving a life either way. Waiting for a few rounds, she was about to place her bid when a round looking man raised his arm. His bid was, truthfully, well over the value of this particular slave but that didn't seem to matter much. Perhaps there was merely something that she didn't know. Raising her own slender arm, she offered 600 gold pieces. After a short volley of bids, the increments smaller each time, she raised her hand a final time, looking to her opponent as he shook his head, bowing out. At the end of it all, she had promised away 1100 gold. It was more money than most people saw in a lifetime and she had just spent it on a slave. Sighing heavily, she sincerely hoped that she would not come to regret her foolish choice.

 

[PalePersonage]

With the outrageous starting bid my Blackshire, Mikhail immediately felt his heart drop, already tried to surrender himself to this fate, however long his life would be now. A short moment later though, he was bewildered at the sound of a second bid. His eyes lifted up, supported by unwarranted hope, to find the small woman had placed the bid. As the two bidders went back and forth, he felt himself wanting to cheer on the young woman, wanting to hug her, promise her anything to keep him from the cruel fate arranged for him by both the auctioneer and the merc. By the time the bidding was over, Mikhail's glistening, worn down body found new life, new energy, he stood strong, hands lifted in front of him toward the lady, weighted chains all but forgotten. He turned to this woman in white, dropped to his knees on the stage, and whispered to her, voice lost to the noises of the crowd... "Thank you... "
As quickly as he dropped he was picked up, guards on either side, pulling him off the stage to the back. The auctioneer told the woman to pick up her property in the back, and that she had better have the entire amount ready. Blackshire faded back into the crowd, and shortly the next auction was in place, a young woman, braided black hair hanging wildly. In the back Mikhail was catching himself, steeling himself. *Remember you fool, this is still slavery, this is still condemnation, to be viewed as property. Keep your heart strong, your wits sharp, you may yet die in the arena... again... *

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

It startled her to see the battle hardened warrior drop to his knees on the stage. Doubtlessly, she had saved him from some terrible fate, the likes of which she probably could not begin to imagine but the public display of gratitude was foreign to her. She could not remember a time in her life that she had done something selflessly and this was no different. It felt wrong for him to be thankful to her for buying his life. He was less likely to die in her service than in the service of the porcine man that had been trying to purchase him but his life still would not be his. This was slavery, plain and simple. He was nothing more than property to her and he would likely come to despise her for that fact, though he would surely be wise enough not to show it. Sighing, she weaved her way through the throng of people to the area reserved for payment and pick up. It took her a good few minutes to push through the crowd and when she got there her prize was waiting for her, guards on both sides of him gripping his arms tightly. She reached into the fabric of her dress and withdrew the pouch of coins, counting out the required amount and dropping it into one of the guard's outstretched hands. Once he was satisfied that the money was real, he tugged on the chain around the man's wrists and dropped in into her hands along with the key that would release him. She bid the two men farewell before turning her attention to the bound man in her possesion.

 

[PalePersonage]

Mikhail began to think analytically about his current situation. He began wondering what he might do to earn his freedom, what his slavery meant to his new "owner", what, if anything, he could do to find favor and make his plight better. As he pondered these things, he heard a jingling noise, snapping him out of his deep thought. It was the mysterious woman paying for him. He stepped forward slowly as she took hold of his bonds, the symbolism not lost on him. He also quickly looked at the key, but not for too long: he didn't want her thinking he was plotting an escape. Mikhail was never known for his agility or aptitude at thievery. Slowly he brought his gaze up from her hands to her face, looking into her eyes, not knowing what to say.

 

[Disco_Lollipop]

Lana touched her fingers lightly to her neck and grasped a thin golden chain, pulling it slowly from the front of her dress. She dropped the man's cuffs for a moment to slide the key onto the chain and replace in under her clothes but she did not drop her gaze from his. Taking his bonds back into her hands, she finally looked away from him, trying to plot her course outside. This time, she did not try to push her way through the crowd, deciding that it was wiser, and safer, to skirt the edge of the arena until she could find an exit. It took several minutes, during which she said nothing to her new captive, before she finally found a door that would take them out to her waiting coach. Andre, her driver, stepped down from his perch and opened the door for her, eyeing the new man warily. Gesturing for her new recruit to enter the coach, she released his bonds again and stepped aside so that he would have ample room to climb up. There were guards posted by the doors that they had just exited and Andre was more than capable of defending her if need be so she was not worried that there would be any escape attempts, at least not yet. Once her newest recruit was safely inside the coach Andre lifted her in as well, making sure that she was seated before closing the door and taking his seat outside. He could be heard spurring the horses, leading them all home. After a few moments of silence, she reached up and unwrapped the scarf that was covering most of her face and head. Her pouty mouth and high cheekbones detracted the mystery but added to the beauty of the tiny woman. Once her face was bare, she smiled softly, almost sadly, before turning her attention out the window. "Mikhail, I believe it was."

 

[PalePersonage]

He watched the key disappear from sight, nodding softly to her as she did so. The mysterious woman obviously was no simpleton, and he added this to what he knew of her. Rich, and intelligent... an unusual combination for this region. As the lady led him through the arena he turned to glare at the auctioneer, not sure if he could see Mikhail or not, but he took care to remember the auctioneer's face, in case they met again. Outside the carriage was waiting, and he sensed an aura of strength from the driver, which Mikhail respected. He kept quiet this entire time, not sure what to say, not sure if he would be allowed to say anything. He finally decided he would only speak if spoken to. The seat of the carriage was comfortable, luxuriously so compared to what he was used to in the cold streets and dank jail cell.
As the veil was lifted from her face, he was taken aback by her sudden beauty and rich, full lips. He suddenly felt a bit flustered, and as her sweet yet sorrowful voice pierced the silence from inside the coach, he listened closely, and replied.
"Ah... yes, um... ma'am. Madame? My... master, yes, it is Mikhail."