Moments Lost (Eonia/MoonBeryl)

[Jaycy Ashleana]

The entrance was pretty elegant, all things considered. The red-and-silver haired woman winked into existence high above the Rask (and special) rings of the Outback, legs crossed in front of her as if she had been settled on the floor but a mere moment before. Legs uncrossed as she dropped a foot or two but it appeared she meant to fall seated. By the looks of it, she meant to fall right onto Styx's beams.

Unfortunately, what happened after her appearance wasn't as elegant; she realized that as she saw the beams go past just a few bare feet away. Realization started in the face, eyes widening and mouth opening a moment later. Limbs reacted belatedly, arms coming out to try and grasp at anything to end her unexpected descent but really she only ended up flapping awkwardly. Legs straightened and then spread to try and create a larger surface area to slow herself down.

Neither attempt really seemed to work given how swiftly she met the floor. Dust mites floofed up around her and fluttered, ruffled by her sudden faceplant. A little groan escaped from the pile of Jaycy that resulted, then another followed, and finally she tried to push herself up.

One palm pressed into the floor but the other seemed preoccupied. That is, a thin flitting object was clutched in her grasp and she had to prise her fingers in order to use anything more than a fist. The string that was left behind limply on the ground was less a string upon further inspection but more of a ribbon, white at first glance but perhaps truly a faint pale yellow. The whisper of motion made the ribbon's end flick a little before settling once more.

Finally, with effort, she pushed herself up. One hand lifted to rub her nose with a wince. It held at an odd angle and pressure from questing fingers caused a surprised gasp at the pain that went with something that was very probably broken. While that was ascertained quickly, the physical assessment of the rest of her slender form took some few minutes. Eventually though she realized that aside from the nose the worst she had suffered was her outfit was covered in a fine layer of filmy material, fluffy and easily waved away.

Brows knit as she leaned in to reclaim the ribbon that she had abandoned a moment ago. Closer inspection revealed that the ribbon was not plain, per se. Flickers of movement rode in waves across the surface. They never quite solidified into something she could recognize but the essence of "people" tickled at the back of her mind. Were beings trapped on this piece of fabric? The changing expression on her face coursed a new bit of hurt from the nose and she abandoned her study and shoved the ribbon deep into the left pocket of her jeans.

Swearing softly, she forcibly reset her nose with a grunt, teeth gritted tight in the action. It at least put it somewhat back into place... even if it was swelling. She touched it, featherlight with fingertips, and sighed. It still hurt, no doubt, but at least it had a chance to heal a little more properly. Oddly, too, it seemed to already hurt less than it had when she first rose from the floor.

The respite allowed her to shift her focus outward and at the rest of the Outback. "Where... am I...." she mumbled, taking in the huge plant, the beams, even the pond and waterfall set ... inside a building. "What in the hell is this place?" Talking, of course, proved to be a bit unpleasant given the current state of her nose but her confusion seemed to prove enough of an effective distraction and mask that she didn't react much more than with a grimace.

A few steps forward look her to the center of the room and she turned slowly around, taking it all in.

"This is .... insane. Who does this?" The Fern rose well above her height, and Styx the same, and she shook her head in likely disbelief. The bar, at least, was familiar enough a structure that she began to gravitate that way. Perhaps she could find some answers. On her way, though, she noted the literal writing (at least the papers) on a wall (board) and diverted that way.

Green-gold eyes shifted left to right and back again as she perused the old and new notices on the board. Eventually, though, her attention lit on a word.... Outback. Was that was this place was called? Rubbing the back of her neck, she turned from that word to peer at the structure and building interior again. "Out ... back ... of what?" Huh.

The answer didn't come immediately and she padded to her original destination; the bar. Easing behind it, she rooted through not only the bottles but also the various other bits and bobs there. Of course no one else was behind it; the building seemed unused this night.

Nothing stood out in her inspection but a chance glance in a back-bar mirror necessitated a doubletake. It wouldn't be unexpected, given her nose, but that wasn't exactly the reason. The confused frown deepened as she stared at her reflection. "Wait. Who are yo -- who am I?" Who was she?! "What the hell?!" Blinking, she turned away and dipped her head as she tried to think, tried to .... remember.

She had no clue.

Apparently she had more problems than just a broken nose. Jaycy looked down at her clothes, at accessories, at the Outback at large, patting herself down as if it would assist her in reclaiming her identity. Unfortunately, though, clues came not at all. The closest thing was a mangled empty jeweler's cage on a silver chain. Something had been in there, perhaps, but it seemed it was damaged in the untimely connection with the floor here.

She needed help. Maybe someone knew her. Of course, there was no one here tonight so she had to go. She rounded the bar and hurried steps toward the double doors. Opening the left wide, she stepped through and quickly out of sight.

Left behind, unnoticed and ignored, a small yellow gem glowed, nestled in a knot hole in the floorboards near where she fell. Not long after, the gem faded from this plane.

[Jaycy Ashleana]

One of the problems that arises when a person loses their memories late in the evening, apparently, is a lack of strangers available to try and help rectify the situation. After Jaycy left the Outback the night before she'd gone through the center of the town becoming increasingly frustrated at door after door of closed establishments. A few were admittedly open all night but they didn't seem to recognize her and thus proved less helpful than she'd hoped for.

Eventually, of course, even the red-and-silver-haired woman felt the increasingly-insistent tickle of exhaustion and she was forced to amend her search from "identity" to "place to sleep." It had quickly been established that the famed Red Dragon Inn was the place for newcomers to spend their first night. Oh, there were other places but the Red Dragon had the best reputation ... and the best location.

When she finally ventured up the steps and onto the worn porch, she eased through the door and paused just inside to peer around. The common area had been empty save for a half-snoozing bartender. Digging into the pockets of her jeans once more, she remembered that she'd noted on a prior inspection that she carried nothing but that strange ribbon. She had, it seemed, no way to procure a room for the night. With a sigh, she had exited right back out and headed down the steps.

Brows knit lightly as she pondered her options. She could try to find someone gracious enough to let her sleep on the floor... that likely wouldn't work since most people were already sleeping. She could return to the Outback since that was where she'd first found herself but she realistically knew nothing about the place and couldn't promise herself any kind of welcome. It seemed she needed to find an out-of-the-way place to hole up for a few hours so she could get some rest.

The courtyard she'd walked through after exiting the Outback seemed like a possibility; it was quiet and seemed less trafficked than other places.

Thought led to action and she paced around the building to breach the perimeter of the courtyard swiftly. Once more she stopped just inside, a hand settling at her hip, as she looked around. The only real doorways and cover she saw were either leading to the Red Dragon or to that Outback. She could curl up under the eave of the fountain's edge but that felt not only too exposed but also she didn't feel like dwelling in the mist of the falling water of the fountain itself.

A small step near an alley had some possibility; she wasn't going to be there long and it really wasn't within easy public view. She should be safe, aye? At least for a few hours. All she needed was a nap and there was no way she'd miss trouble if it began brewing, right?

Famous last thoughts, Jaycy.

Smothering a yawn with a hand to her mouth, the woman struck for her chosen spot and settled in, leaning shoulder against the wall and curling tight to try and make herself as invisible as possible while still being comfortable enough (relatively) to get some sleep. She didn't have any weapons to palm but in truth, she didn't feel any great urge to find any. It was almost as if she knew, without knowing who she was, that she could care for herself even without them.

That might have been the case if she hadn't been so tired.

Early morning passed into true morning and then late morning and still she slept. It was a measure of how quiet it truly was in the courtyard but that quiet was deceptive. Curious onlookers peered at the woman but did not harm her. Perhaps, though, they told friends who let others know and eventually a pair of men, rough in speech and mien, came to assess the slumbering Jaycy.

"Oy," the shorter of the two whispered, close enough to study the woman but not so close that they were likely to wake her, "... she's a pretty'un. Gotta buyer lookin'a reddies, yah?" The taller nodded, bringing a hand up to dig a fingernail between his teeth, grunting. "T'ink so," he verbally concurred. "Gotta be careful, though. Summin' weird, feels like." The first man's brows rose in silent question but his companion simply shrugged; it didn't seem to be anything he could articulate to the first.

"A'ight. Knock 'er ou'."

The pair ceased their whispered conversation to peer around and ensure they were alone with their intended victim. Once others had seen the two bullyboys move closer they'd quickly found their own tasks to complete... elsewhere. For the redhead's part, she never woke when the taller (and, not surprisingly stronger) man eventually drew a knife and snuck forward. It was an awkward angle but enough of her neck was visible to allow him to dart a precise strike to both the carotid artery and the vagus nerve, rendering her unconscious and no longer merely sleeping.

He put away the blade before leaning down to pick her up. "Gah, she's damn 'eavier'n she looks." A grunt escaped as he hefted her into his arms and against his chest. In daylight they knew that carrying her over the shoulder would be more suspicious; in this position they could reliably claim they were trying to find help for her instead of snatching her!

"We got ya, lady," the first man noted in a normal tone. "Gonna make sure ya're 'kay." Perhaps the words were just for the benefit of anyone who might be hiding or even passing by. Their true intent, though, shined in the nasty grins they shared as they headed down an alley that would take them out of the courtyard.

It was an easy task to disappear from topside to the tunnels beneath the city, given all of the entrances. The pair took their burden out of sight as soon as they could, ducking into tunnel access and scurrying down toward a series of paths that led to the personflesh markets. While some who traded in people walked in the light and with seeming impunity, others pretended respectability while still running a brisk business in lives. The contact that the men were looking for tended to be one such and they knew it might be several hours before they could meet and confer.

"We gotta keep 'er out," the muscleman said (perhaps a bit unnecessarily) as he paused to adjust his grip on the limp form in his arms. He might have thrown her over his shoulder once they'd gotten out of sight but once they saw her bruised and swollen face they thought better of it; they were loathe to risk waking her by causing pain in the jostling of his stride.

"We got summin' juice at 'ome," his cohort volunteered, and they diverted down a tunnel to the exit closest to their own hovel topside. The smaller man served as lookout once they were close enough to need to step into the daylight, making sure they were undetected before hustling out and to their door.

Once inside, they dumped Jaycy onto the mussed, infested bed they shared and went in search of the drugs that would keep her unconscious until they were relieved of her. While she didn't quite stir she did react to the manhandling with a little groan before resettling limp again. Frowning, they took that as a sign that she would wake soon if left to her own devices and redoubled their efforts.

"Aha!" The leader exclaimed triumph as he held vial and needle aloft. Chuckling nastily he prepared the shot and moved to the bed to administer it. He dipped the needle into her flesh at the neck and deployed the plunger until the clear liquid had been administered and the needle itself was empty. It might not have been the most efficient way but of course they weren't scientists or medics; they simply trusted that the drugs would keep her as unconscious as the physical strike had rendered her so.

For good measure, though, they trussed and gagged her before stepping out once more.

[Jaycy Ashleana]

The two men weren't gone long, which proved to be fortuitous because the woman was already weakly stirring when they returned to their shack. They swore in tandem and retrieved the vial, hurriedly re-injecting Jaycy to keep her compliant. It took a few moments but she finally resettled and the brutes heaved a sigh of relief. "Time'a go, anyway," the shorter claimed, and his compatriot nodded before hefting the woman in his arms once more. "Le's get this over wit', summin' feels off." The shorter man nodded and turned to lead them out and to the tunnels once more.

The journey to their potential buyer didn't take long and they were happy to ease into the space with no outward signs of trouble. He gently lowered his bundle to the ground at his feet once they had arrived at their destination. A slender, graceful woman turned around to face them. She was impeccably dressed in a suit so well-tailored that it might as well have been sewn around her form. Her jet hair curled at her shoulders, loose and free and lovely as it framed her perfectly made-up face. Delicate facial features softened the hard-set brown eyes as lips curved up in a minor smile.

"Hello, boys," she crooned, her tone as aristocratic as her appearance. "What do you have for me this evening?" Her gaze flicked to the pile at the man's feet before arcing back up once more. The smile faded, replaced by a more concerned frown.

"We gotta reddie, fresh an' new," the man grinned in answer. "Out like a ligh' for ya, lady." Names were just not done down here.

She trod forward in stilettos that would make Koyliak proud, one leg crossing smoothly in front of the other through the short span to her goal. A toe lifted and edged out in that shoe to nudge at the unconscious woman they had brought. As Jaycy's face (albeit battered) came into view, she recoiled with a gasp. "You idiots!"

The men blinked in time at the reprimand, frowns of their own marring their grime-crusted faces as they tried to understand the sudden vitriol. "Uhhh, huh?" the second man inelegantly returned as he continued to blink owlishly at the woman standing in front of him. "Wha's wrong?"

Neutral-toned fingers jabbed at the air above the captive. "Do you even know who this is?! She is absolutely the worst person you could have brought here! This is Jaycy Ashleana." Their blank stares at the name seemed to incense her further. As they simultaneously scratched at a body part (the leader, shorter man at his cheek, while his partner picked at the back of his head), her voice rose another decibel in her explanation of just who that was. "Former Governor. Famous duelist."

Recognition dawned and they cracked mirrored grins, one after the other. "Oooh. We gotta ransom one!" The taller of the two nodded in concurrence with his leader, bringing his hands together in a single clap. "We gotta good 'un."

The lady stared, aghast. "What! You're stupider than I thought. She is a famous fighter. She has friends who will kill you before you can draw a breath to ask for any ransom and would do so without a second thought before or after! She is a dragon." It was as if she couldn't emphasize that last part enough. Apparently, there were consequences of being known both in presence and abilities.

"Get rid of her. Sell her if you must. Get her away from here!" The last was reduced to a hiss, low and perhaps betraying the woman's own non-human status. An observant person (which the pair were not) would also notice the shaking of her balled fists. Fear at what they had brought on her affairs shone in her response.

Finally they seemed to understand the depth of their error, and they looked from her to the unconscious Jaycy to each other and back again. A moment later the shorter man let escape a long string of curses. Finally though he came up for air and jutted a hand toward the floor. "Get her, le's go." He was swiftly obeyed and without a backward glance at their intended buyer (who, perhaps rightly was still fuming... enough so that she had kicked away the heels and paced the few feet from wall to wall while she debated her escape options) they scooted out.

"We gotta --" the shorter man nodded, cutting off whatever his helper was about to say. "Yah. We gotta get'a Maxy." A groan warned them that their unintentional rougher handling of the redhead had consequences of its own, and so did the minute shift of her body in his arms. More swearing ensued.

"We can't kill 'er!" Either out of a sense of humanity or the very real fear that they had what the woman said was a *dragon* in their hands, it seemed they considered themselves unable or unwilling to take that drastic of a step in order to rectify their error. "Maxy'll get 'er out." And this Maxy likely would pay them well for the opportunity.

Their journey was short, at least, and Jaycy hadn't truly woken by the time they arrived at their second destination. A few raps and presently a door creaked open a bare inch. "Maxy," hummed the taller around his bundle. "Gotta summin' fo' ya." The person behind the wood cracked it open a little more, deathly pale face peeking into view with large violet eyes. "Yeh? Commin'." The verbal indication preceded the portal's opening to allow them entrance.

"We gotta drug 'er but we gotta primo pet fo' ya," the shorter declared. He didn't wait, moving toward the back of the room toward a nondescript cabinet. He tugged the door open and leaned in, quickly grabbing what he'd sought. A few more steps and he dealt another dose into the redhead. Maxy, meanwhile, had been curiously examining what he could of her.

"Ahhh," he finally smiled. "Tha's Ashleana. I can tell even wif the racoonin'." The gesture was slow as lips curved enough to part and display yellowed, half-shorn teeth. "I'll take 'er. Put 'er in the back cages." As the muscle edged forward to comply, Maxy turned to another cabinet and, after opening it, drew out a small but full bag. It ticked very lightly when he tossed it. The shorter man, still left here, caught it and bounced it a couple of times before sharing the nasty smirk. "Ya know 'er eh?" Maxy hadn't even bargained.

"Know'a. She's shafted me on deals down 'ere more'n once. Right proper bitch, playin' baddie down 'ere when she's really prissy shit dogooder."

"Ahhh," the other man snickered. "Good 'nough. Gonna kill 'er?" Maxy shook his head before turning it to peek behind him where the woman herself had been taken to. "More fun'a make a deal. She'll make a right pet fo' some rich'n. I know a couple'n possibles." He rubbed his hands in anticipation.

The shorter man hefted the bag as his partner returned to show him their bounty before tucking it away. "Sounds good, wasn't us, nice doin' business wit' ya." The taller one saluted Maxy and they took their leave. It'd turned out to be a good day... a very good day, indeed.

[Jaycy Ashleana]

Maxy smirked as he watched the pair take their leave, his steepled fingers angled at a spot several feet in front of him. If he had to guess, they were not long for this world, given their inattention in shielding the identity of their victim on the trek here. He knew well of Jaycy by her reputation and the tales of the friends she kept; powerful people who tended to fight hellishly for one of their own.

He knew, too, of her own personal abilities; high mage, skilled fighter in multiple styles, and… well, dragon. Their deaths would be a loss but really only a minor one. They were generally good business associates but not entirely the most … aware. He probably should have warned them but, darn, they’d already left.

The man, mildly hunched, chuckled softly at the train of thoughts that passed through his head.

Soon, though, musings and his gaze drifted toward the door leading to the back where his newest acquisition lay. "Ah, this'n'll be good," he mumbled, allowing another bit of snicker to escape before he moved not to the back to see her closer but rather to his desk. He knew some of her abilities, aye, but most significant to him was the 'overgrown lizard' bit. Even through she was unconscious (okay, drugged), he was wary of setting his scent on her flesh. He also knew that her draconic chemistry was unlikely to allow the drugs to remain in her system long and that he not only needed to regularly sedate her but also he needed to offload her quickly.

Brows knit as a frown further marred his already-pocked face. She was a high-value target and he needed to be rid of her before she managed to wake and discover who her current captor was. As well, he needed a buyer that was ... perhaps ... expendable. A woman like Jaycy Ashleana was indeed likely to have powerful friends and family and he didn't want to take the risk of bringing them down on his own head. If he were to pass her to someone who might not know.... hrm. He had plenty of what did they call them? Frenemies? Something like that. Men and women he did business with... when he had to. He wouldn't mind seeing them go missing, however.

Fingers tapped a tuneless pattern as Maxy tried to fit the puzzle together. What could make him the most money with the least amount of eventual risk.

Using her himself was out no matter how attractive that might seem. Even stripping her was a danger but it might turn to a necessary evil if he didn't find a sucker to take her off his hands straightaway. Who knew what was secreted on her person that she could use to hurt him if she were unfortunate enough to wake up. So, she would have to go as-is unless it took more than an hour or two to find a buyer.

But who...

The hand lifted from the desk and his index finger set to taptaptapping against his lips. Who, indeed. Anubis Karos had been an early thought but they ran in the same circles and even if the ancient slaver wanted her, no doubt she would end up free, Anubis would be very alive, and Maxy would be in danger for his part in the Egyptian's acquisition. It needed to be someone removed from the politics and games of the Arena and Rhydin City.

However, it was no bad thought to look to the denizens of what was known as the Great Desert. Nomads and insular folk were both candidates to offload the woman. Yes, he thought, nodding, that was a very good possible direction to cast his net.

Fingers moved from his lips to trace along the surface of the desk before him, spider-walking to a series of scraps deemed just useful enough to deliver short notes. His other hand took forth as well, curling around a pen with which to memorialize his offer. His handwriting, perhaps interestingly, was neat and concise, pretty where the man himself was not. He quickly scribed his proposition, promising delivery of a fiery pet that might serve well in his recipient's harem.

Maxy detailed in small amount her abilities (because it wouldn't do to maliciously sell a killer to his victim with no warning .... that would be bad for business, especially if he was trying to make any untimely demise look like inattention and not ignorance) and remarked that while she was no true beauty she at least had a personality that would not only warm the buyer's bed but also brighten his days with her fierce mien that was just begging to be cowed.

He folded and sealed the note after completing it and pressed a name over the seal - Barnali. Likely, that wasn't the recipient's true name (just like "Maxy" was not his own real name) but it served well enough as identifier. The candle at the corner of the desk, lit, took the note ablaze swiftly and the man let the remainder flutter to the ground.

Now it was time to hurry up and wait. He leaned back, steepling his hands in his lap, no doubt already counting his gains.

[Jaycy Ashleana]

He didn't have long to wait, after all. Perhaps the note's subtle implications that there were multiple buyers had rushed the decision in Maxy's favor for not more than 12 minutes after he'd sent the note a small square above his desk blazed to life and a scrap of paper fluttered onto the bare surface. He chuckled, self-impressed with his ability to elicit such a quick reply. The note itself was sealed too, and folded three times to form a small square.

He assumed a positive return even before he opened it and so he savored the moment, leaning back in his chair without pulling too dangerously back. Eventually, though, he did settle all four legs of the chair on the floor again and reached for the paper. A finger slipped under the seal and drew across it, gently breaking the thing before he added his other hand to unfold it.

Ho,

I'll take her. Deliver the usual.

Maxy snickered at the concise response, flicking his gaze to the time-candle. "Sigh' unseen, e'en. Guess I bette' pretty 'er up." Despite his words, he wasn't sure if he was going to do anything to her. He didn't really want to risk any of his employees by having them touch her nor would he lay a personal hand on her. Perhaps it would be best to just send her along fully clothed and without another dose. Thought turned to deed and he pushed the chair back and away from the desk before standing. His shuffling gait took him to the back room where a half dozen small cages waited. A few were occupied, two young ladies and a cherubic boy, and the last one contained the red-and-silver-haired woman.

While he didn't have any particularly strong magic himself, he did have charms and small set-spells that made his life easier. One such example had been the messenger candle and another was a series of transportation spells set in the iron of each cage that would allow him to send acquisitions to certain regular customers with relative ease. When he finally approached the last cage, his finger poked out at a small fetish at the top corner of the bars. "Barnali," he whispered, clear and careful to not mistender the goods.

Fire ringed the bars but produced no heat, consuming the air and seemingly the person within. It only took seconds before Jaycy had disappeared from view, the flames had faded to nothing, and Maxy took himself back to the front room.

It had been a very good day, indeed.

[Jaycy Ashleana]

(( Warning: this post contains sexual themes and sexual assault/rape. ))

Jaycy blinked blearily as she came back into consciousness, brows knitting in both confusion and some small pain at the intrusion of bright light on her eyes. "Ugh," she mumbled, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the illumination. Or, she would have raised her hand if she weren't shackled to a large, soft bed. She blinked again, this time more rapidly to clear her vision, and shifted to take stock of her predicament. She was confined at wrists and ankles, held fast to the bed with padded cuffs that gave little when she tried to squirm her way out. The bed itself was large and wide, arms and legs spread open and anchored at the corners.

Silky sheets, slick and sweetly scented of lavender, caressed what she found to be bare flesh as she moved upon them. The kiss of cool air raised bumps along her body in her exposure, causing a momentary light shiver to course down her spine and accompanied the soft tiss that implied a door's opening. She tried to lift her head to scout a possible entrant but the splitting pain that came with the motion caused her head to drop back onto the sheets once more. Seemingly pooled at the bottom of her feet, tickling the pads, was a thick comforter ready to protect her ... if she could convince someone to cover her with it.

A loose, single braid of red-and-silver crested her right shoulder and the tip lay delicately on her chest, hair ends fluttering minutely with each intake of breath. The braid itself remained complete courtesy of a band of pale yellow ribbon, curved around the end several times before tying a bow. The ribbon seemed to move of its own volition, or perhaps through illusion, with shapes and inscrutable design flickering on and off the strip of fabric.

"You're awake, my dear Arta." A deep, pleasant baritone drifted through the air before its origin came into view at the side of her head. She slowly turned her head toward the man, eyes widening slightly at the beast before her - a squat, portly thing garbed in naught but four layers of gaping robes, his protruding assets on full display at her eye-height. His own gaze traveled to the object of her attention and he reached down to curve fingers around it, lightly moving while the pleased smirk grew on his bearded face.

"Soon enough, dear. Let's say hello and get to know each other first."

He eased down onto the bed near her right shoulder, one knee tucked up while the foot of his other leg kept him upright as it pressed into what she assumed would be a bit of carpet. "You may call me Deevon*," he continued, not noticing the coiled flinch from the woman as he settled so near. "You're mine, and prettier than I assumed you'd be ... at least a tiny bit. Those devious marks would never come to pass, had I rescued you before." He removed his hand from himself long enough to stroke a fingertip across a smattering of scars laid into her belly. "But I am too late, too sorry to say." Chuckling, his roaming hand traced down her side until it found her outer thigh. He drew it across her upper leg and in, palming the flesh of her leg to twist it lightly and expose the tiny cursive A on her inner half.

His cultured words seemed counter to his appearance and she frowned at him, shifting as best she could (that is, not at all) away from his questing hand. "Why..." she swallowed, "... am I here?" A beat. ".... why are you calling me Arta?" She hadn't really recovered her memory and she had no true understanding of her identity but it seemed prudent to hide that little problem and instead frame the query as if she were aware of her real, true name.

"Because you are mine and that is what I have chosen to call you." The easy smile remained on his curved lips but there was cool steel underneath as foundation for his tone. "You amuse me, Arta," he continued in a lighter, airy lilt. "I look forward to the fun we shall have and to your likely vexing nature that shall keep me entertained and alert." She couldn't shift away from where his hand went next, nor could she control her body's reaction to it.

A faint gasp escaped at his unsubtle intrusion and it preceded the laugh he allowed. "Ah, indeed, you will be fun." He slowly drew his hand away, moist fingers tracing a path along her thigh in its retreat. The man resumed his light attention to himself while brown eyes drifted down and across her body. "You are of my House now, Arta, and while I will delight in your fire, you would do well to remember that fact and temper yourself so that I remain delighted and not piqued." Only then did his smile lapse and he stared at her, plainly waiting for her to acknowledge the truth of his words.

Eventually she did, nodding faintly. "Aye ... Deevon," Jaycy - Arta - mumbled.

"Ah, wonderful!" His cheerful disposition resumed and he took his hand from its task. "I believe I shall reward you." He allowed his bent leg to straighten and touch the floor before he vacated the bed entirely. However, he did not remain absent for long, striding toward the end of the bed and doffing the linen that hung on his shoulders. He hefted himself onto the bed at the bottom, careless of the comforter, and covered her with his stocky frame.

She was screaming, unpleasantly so, not long after.

(( *Deevon means Commander, or King, or in this case Master, in local vernacular. ))