El dia de muertosThe faint, crisp clear air was what had greeted Mantos that morning. There were birds singing their delicate songs, there were the faint calls and honks of that of the seafowl- and there was the gentle noise of waves lapping upon the shore as a warm tropical wind caressed his cheeks and shifted his hair about his face. Leaning against the beautiful palm wood of the hut that was the entryway to his underseas hive, Mantos took in a deep, peaceful breath, sighing contentedly as his skin soaked up the summer sun. He swore- if it was possible- that his already pale grey skin could possibly gain a glorious tan if he stayed out here long enough. He did- falling asleep with his head lolling to the side on bare shoulders as he waited for a client.
The client showed up a good couple hours later, enough for the younger seadweller to have achieved the status of having a painfully sunburnt scalp and cheeks. He rubbed his eyes and winced as Evangelion nudged his side until he awoke, blinking his vio
For Whom the Bells TollThe day had been extremely cheerful as it was. Bells in the manor yard had been tolling, to the chagrin of neighbors and the wonderances of the residents and guests of the Tumelo Estate. It was a wedding- and one that had been a long time coming, in Kagiyanna's mind. Dominic had been with Siddthis for a very long time, and what was more fun than a forbidden wedding upon her own land? Afterall, it was both highly frowned upon, terrible mannerism, and quite possibly illegal, to engage in homosexual activity- particularly this, a gay marriage. The group had been together for years now; Dominic, with money saved from the bartending job that he had kept for years and years, had, with Kagiya's help, bought Mantos his freedom as a slave from Danari Lucroe's grasp. And as a free man, the boy had immediately gotten to work, trying to get on his feet, unsure of what to do, and so staying with Kagiyanna when she herself quit Danari's services. He was always out and about with her, learning practi
Execution DayIt was execution day. I, the Enslaved, have seen this day far too many times in my sweeps than I would like to count, over and over, and over again. It never did quite change for me though. I brought in the man or woman under the arrest warrant, from whatever crime they commited, whether they stole a loaf of bread, or they commited genocide, were too rowdy with their words drunken in the streets, or.... led a rebellion. Usually, I dealt with it. I was quick and efficient with my angel blade- an ironic name, considering the droves of death it brought upon us all- and I did not listen or hesitate to hear the last pleas of my 'prey'. I didn't care- I could not feel sympathy anyway- or anger or sadness. Occasionally Ameliana the Samuraia would take care of it- though she did not kill. She simply brought folks into arrest, who I would then deal with. This time it was some huge guy who to be honest, I felt threatened by myself.
I don't particularly want to go to this exec
To the BoneIt had been too long of a day for Mantos. He'd been up at Danari's hive most of the day, waiting on the Rising Sun troll hand and foot, complacent and calm as always. It had been a particularly difficult day, staying imperatively stiff and putting up with various caresses and touches and wipes while holding various objects and keeping said object there.
His tongue hurt too. Danari had decided to leave him with another permanent mark- another way for his master to detrollianize him, make him more of an art piece than a person, he supposed. He didn't like it- it made him feel worthless, and each day brought him closer to the dangerous thought that his deeply beloved matesprit would wake up one day and realize that a broken slave was of utterly no use to her in the slightest, and that there was nothing that he could give her, nothing that he could offer that some other could offer her twice, thrice even, of, and she would leave his side with a curt grin and a signature snicker, and would
MonochromatiaAt the end of the day, it always seems the same, for Mantos. Master comes home, and he subserviently bows, nose against the carpeted floor, until he is commanded to rise- and if he is forgotten, he stays awake the entire night, back bowed over, nose against the floor and hands in front of him. No wonder he has back problems, he realizes. And yet, it remains monotonous all the same.
As he rises with his master, the man purrs out that he is his little pet, and runs a finger over his cheek. He has learned not to flinch, rather to enjoy the touch, leaning lightly into the hand- it does not end well otherwise.
Master beckons him follow, and he walks quietly behind the Sunrise troll up the stairs of his mansion, to wherever he may go. Unless situations are dark, or schedules disrupted, it is always without fail the study. He stands resolute, back stiff, one hand resting on the other's inner elbow, legs straight and locked, barely even breathing, for hours on end as either his master reads, o