Trystan adjusted his brother's jacket on his shoulders, the only thing he had left of his family. Ever since he was brought here, by slavers that had killed his home, he had tried not to show his fears that the same thing might happen to him. Every day he chastised himself, beating down on his conciounsness. 'If only i'd checked...' The thought was in his mind constantly. He was a problem slave sometimes, often simply laying down and sleeping. His face was always as if he stole something, his darting eyes making him seem more dangerous than he really was. In fact, had anyone taken the time to get to know him, like the few who had left, they would've found him to be a joy to be around. Had they looked een deeper, they would've found the fear, the bad memories. He made his way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, forcing his mind to focus.