04-22-2012, 12:32 AM
OOC:I suck
Days seemed to come and go, passing by quicker than the Sasolian slave could comprehend. That didn't mean he was committing to his duties, those shamrock eyes often found themselves studying the fishing weir, fixing little problems that seemed to come up in the littlest times. The strong wiry arms had something to do, weaving rope and moving rocks from the wide stream. Never was there a rebelling thought on the mind of the jackalwolf. This was the life the fates had set for him, and there would not be another. It was that the tawny labouror had ever tasted or felt the winds of freedom, or the sensation that he was to go wherever to his heart's content. The world was Sasola, the barbed lands. And before that, it was his younger life. Still a slave, yet not appointed to an actual way of life. For now, Khi was the Slave of the Salt. His skills in boating seemed to please the canines higher on the ranks than himself. That was the way; never rebel or it'll hurt you. Do your work and there will be a reward.
Often days, Khirot would push away the similarity being a slave gave him to an animal of labor. Like a horse, or even an ox. Yet as sturdy arms pulled the float across the waters, the wiry hybrid had a sense of more than that. The waters were his cradle, supporting the little "ferry" as if a precious child. His vist to the other side wasn't exactly necessary, the kabul slave had thought that finding more rope would be sufficient enough to finish the netting on the weir. Much to his delight, there had been a little coil wash up near his shack. Unfortunately not enough to finish his appointed work.
The boat came to a slow stop as it pushed up the shore, strong arms working harder to keep it from the loose thieving tendrils of the sea. Khirot moored it securely, walking away meekly. The pierced nose of the slave picked up a different scent almost immediately, wondering vaguely who it was. Likely another master, everyone had become his master in Sasola. Even Taekyung, a personal slave property of the Auxillary's daughter. Deciding to avoid the strange scent, Khi headed in the direction of the weir. Stopping in his tracks as a soft, almost sad voice creaked as the wind did when in mourning. All the words were not understood by the jackalwolf, yet the tone...
Turning, he had let a girl go unnoticed, bent in utmost sorrow. Until he saw the golden ring in which he had also aquirred, he knew. Khirot's suspicions pointed to a new slave, not yet accustomed to the ways of labor. Still, it gripped at the sandy jackal somewhere, edging closer to the stranger, chuffling softly in his creamy throat, a low "Wuff". Never did Khi want to impose, act as a threat to the girl in the thrawls of upsetting emotions.
Days seemed to come and go, passing by quicker than the Sasolian slave could comprehend. That didn't mean he was committing to his duties, those shamrock eyes often found themselves studying the fishing weir, fixing little problems that seemed to come up in the littlest times. The strong wiry arms had something to do, weaving rope and moving rocks from the wide stream. Never was there a rebelling thought on the mind of the jackalwolf. This was the life the fates had set for him, and there would not be another. It was that the tawny labouror had ever tasted or felt the winds of freedom, or the sensation that he was to go wherever to his heart's content. The world was Sasola, the barbed lands. And before that, it was his younger life. Still a slave, yet not appointed to an actual way of life. For now, Khi was the Slave of the Salt. His skills in boating seemed to please the canines higher on the ranks than himself. That was the way; never rebel or it'll hurt you. Do your work and there will be a reward.
Often days, Khirot would push away the similarity being a slave gave him to an animal of labor. Like a horse, or even an ox. Yet as sturdy arms pulled the float across the waters, the wiry hybrid had a sense of more than that. The waters were his cradle, supporting the little "ferry" as if a precious child. His vist to the other side wasn't exactly necessary, the kabul slave had thought that finding more rope would be sufficient enough to finish the netting on the weir. Much to his delight, there had been a little coil wash up near his shack. Unfortunately not enough to finish his appointed work.
The boat came to a slow stop as it pushed up the shore, strong arms working harder to keep it from the loose thieving tendrils of the sea. Khirot moored it securely, walking away meekly. The pierced nose of the slave picked up a different scent almost immediately, wondering vaguely who it was. Likely another master, everyone had become his master in Sasola. Even Taekyung, a personal slave property of the Auxillary's daughter. Deciding to avoid the strange scent, Khi headed in the direction of the weir. Stopping in his tracks as a soft, almost sad voice creaked as the wind did when in mourning. All the words were not understood by the jackalwolf, yet the tone...
Turning, he had let a girl go unnoticed, bent in utmost sorrow. Until he saw the golden ring in which he had also aquirred, he knew. Khirot's suspicions pointed to a new slave, not yet accustomed to the ways of labor. Still, it gripped at the sandy jackal somewhere, edging closer to the stranger, chuffling softly in his creamy throat, a low "Wuff". Never did Khi want to impose, act as a threat to the girl in the thrawls of upsetting emotions.