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Post by kaons on Apr 6, 2017 22:51:27 GMT -6
 MaksimLabor Slave | Aodh
Yet another rough morning in a series of events which defined his thirty five years of existence. The same sun filtered in through the windows. The same memories of his dead mate haunted him upon waking, and his heart ached from her absence. He gritted his teeth from the memory again and tore his body from the hard ground. Without a word, he went to work, diligently keeping the beautiful façade of the city from crumbling around their heads.
He was not specialized in gardening or crafting, but his back was broad and his body capable. Maks was a true laborer, physically shoving stone and laying mortar. He patched holes, mended roads and constructed new buildings. His body bore the evidence of his work in every scar, especially the stark ones that ran down over his left eye.
The open burn on his shoulder still pinched as he walked and the corners of his dark lips tightened. His rough, muscular physique strode in a brusque way through the pristine streets of the gilded Valore. So pretty on the outside but so... damaged within. He didn’t bother to meet the eyes of those passing by. Their jeweled bridles and elegant robes set them apart from the scarred and branded likes of a lowly labor slave. He didn’t want to see their pity or judgment, so he kept his gaze firmly set to the ground.
Unfortunately, that meant he wasn’t exactly looking where he was going, so he ran headlong into another stallion. “Sorry,” he grunted roughly, his voice deep and graveled from lack of use and a deep barrel. Hauntingly blue eyes looked up, eying this stranger and seeing that like him, he was another slave. The rough, apathetic mask slipped just a little and he nodded once. “New?” he asked, not a man of many words.
Words: 306| Post: 1 |
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Post by Disastercorn on Apr 7, 2017 13:46:03 GMT -6
CLYTHUS
Long slender legs pushed him forward, head bobbing ever so slightly with each step. Hair rippled down, moving like waves along his tall lengthy form. In a way it was his shield, his cover, in an otherwise self indulging society. Ears perked forward, not really sure what he was doing with himself today. He was free, most of the time, to do as he wished. But he was still a slave. It was all he had known. All he cared to know. He was sheltered, he realized, from the harsh realities around him.
His thoughts where drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the streets around him. He walked uncaring for some time, more just to memorize the vastness of the city to further help his master, should be ever need this assistance. Masike was a kind and just master, if not inexperienced. Clythus had been a gift, a symbol of status for the hippocampus. But yet, Masike seemed unlike the other masters. He was soft, forgiving, and had little boundaries as to what the slave could and couldn’t do. It left Clythus with a lot of time on his hooves.
So lost in thought was Clythus that even as the large drafty build of the stallion came into his peripheral, he had no time to change course. Hind quarters hit the floor, dazed and confused as he tried to get his barrings and rise up once more. “Ah, no, my apologies.” He spoke softly, tricolor eyes only then just turning to gaze over the broad and strained working muscles of the labour slave.
Eyes widened at the question and he shook his head, feeling ashamed at his own display of uncoordinated grace. “No, unfortunately. Just sheltered.” He gave a small smile, making sure to toss his head and settle the long strands back over the scarred side of his face. Giving a small breath he shook himself off briefly and moved out of the way of hurried shoppers and other horses along the street. “Are you ok? I mean… I… I took a lot of the force but… I wouldn’t want to hurt another slave on accident…”
Word Count: 367 || Post #2 |
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Post by kaons on May 2, 2017 23:41:03 GMT -6
MaksimLabor Slave | Aodh
Valore… was a startling variety of contradictions. Before him stood a slave who admitted he was sheltered. The stallion bore the same burn mark he did, and he was not free. Yet, by the slenderness of his build and the gentleness of his soul, he was markedly different from those who labored for the city. Only the scar on this stranger’s face gave any indication that he lived a hard life, and Maks absently wondered where such a mark had come from. Bad master, perhaps?
The stranger tried to hide his scar by tossing silken mane over to the side, but its presence didn’t bother the labor slave in the least. His own body was little with marks of the beast of Valore had seen fit to etch into his very skin, and the short cut of his dark mane ensured he would never hide. Maks wasn’t bothered in the least by his physical appearance, but that shame rubbed him the wrong way. What did the dappled stranger have to be ashamed of? He was luckier than most and yet equally as damned by birthright.
Maks raised a brow, darkly amused at the stumbling words served his way. “Yes, I am fine,” he answered succinctly but not rudely. “You didn’t hurt me,” he soothed, wondering if this stallion could really hurt him at all. They were very different in build due to the serving of different purposes. Even if he was a slave of pleasure, admired for beauty, Maks would hold no grudge. The end result was either a groan or a well-constructed fountain - slaves bodies’ were used regardless. “Are you okay?” he finally asked, gaze sweeping over him for any signs of injury.
Words: 285| Post: 2 |
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Post by Disastercorn on May 11, 2017 0:10:35 GMT -6
CLYTHUS
As the silver dapple buckskin male regained his footing, he could feel a strange twinge in his shoulder, having had it just recently injured by running into yet another slave. He had to stop introducing himself that way. Frowning, a wince making his brows furrow the male shook his head slightly. "I will be fine. I recently stepped into the path of another slave who was working himself too hard. I... I can't be upset by that, I willingly took the hit to stop him, but well... I guess I wasn't fully healed." With a hard sigh he raised his leg and stretched it forward, feeling the tug and pull of a muscle sore and bruised.
Ears fell back before flickering forward again. "But it's not a problem. I will heal with time." He assured, back hoof raising slightly in a resting pose as the tip touched the ground. He had finally regained himself and gotten his mane back in order. Bridal was a bit of a mess on his face but that would involve a mirror to fix. He wasn't worried. Tail flicked, getting the long strands back into order as well to keep it out of hurrying horses way.
"I... I have a bit of extra coin. Would you like something to eat or drink?" The world of slaves was complicated to say the least. But Clythus had been granted a good master and a good start to what would surely be a downhill slide for the rest of his life. If he had a bit of splendor, why not share what he had with others? Ears fell back. "If you say no, I'll go buy something and leave it for you anyways. I'm sure if you don't want it, there's someone else you know who does." He was not being condescending but he had a feeling Maks was the type to not take anything for himself.
"I know of a bar not far from here. It's a good place to spend the late nights, if that's more to your liking." He smiled and stepped close to the other, gently leading him away from the bridge to the bar another new friend had recently just showed him. "My name is Clythus."
Word Count: 373 || Post #4 |
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