03-10-2012, 09:14 AM
I suckkk *dies*
The tawny furred jackal still remembered the little assignment given by the Auxiliary, turning back to recollect the conversation they had that one day about the building of a workable water trap for fish. The sable coyote woman seemed delighted with the idea, despite his meek existence as a slave. Sometimes Khi would find himself wondering alone on the island, sometimes imagining if he had some sort of other life path, a different route it could have went. That would certainly be difficult, being raised as a slave from day one.
What separated a slave from an everyday person? That though often occurred within the tawny hybrid's mind, was he part of a weaker race? A whole different classification of canines? Either way he was a laborer. And likely to be one forever. Khi often considered himself lucky, what he had was good fortune compared to some other occurrences with other new slaves: tortured until broken, without the gift of speech. Parts taken for punishment. Khirot didn't hold any of those things. As long as he kept to his duties and always obeyed the high one's orders...He would live and not have to face the pain. Tharot should have listened to his refusal of running away. Would have saved his neck.
Ferrying the Sasolians across the waters had become a thing of life, built deeply into the fibers of the slave's survival. Don't upset the passengers. That would reward him punishment. It was pleasing however, knowing that he was rewarded for acting polite and obedient, not struggling from whatever master or higher canine whenever given a command. On the island (however lonely) there was plenty of freedom, there was a lack of chains and bindings, he still had his tongue! It was certainly much better than death. On occasion, the jackalwolf's mind would flick to the deceased Tharot, the attempted escapade alone with the downfall that cut his sibling down. Why not accept their status as laborers? It could not possibly be that unpleasant. In other more logical words, he worked to survive.
The sun had risen far enough to call it midtime daylight, enough to see and work in. The tides were high enough to sail upon, safe enough to moor and especially calm. The order given by the dark pelted queen was not forgotten, definitely not. Walking on fit legs, Khirot made his way to the small "ferry" stepping in and grabbing the cable. Strong arms pulled, propelling him against the small waves. Some days, the submissive canine would be terrified to venture out upon them, petrified of being blown down from an untamable water beast. The slave let his thoughts diminish as he spotted the Auxilla, always regal as she had ever been. When close enough, Khi dropped his ears to his skull, tail making its way to wrap between his legs in a show of submission. "Mistress." Khi spoke acknowledging her and the slave upon the hill, Molca came sometimes to give him meat. His own reward for acting like a slave should.
The tawny furred jackal still remembered the little assignment given by the Auxiliary, turning back to recollect the conversation they had that one day about the building of a workable water trap for fish. The sable coyote woman seemed delighted with the idea, despite his meek existence as a slave. Sometimes Khi would find himself wondering alone on the island, sometimes imagining if he had some sort of other life path, a different route it could have went. That would certainly be difficult, being raised as a slave from day one.
What separated a slave from an everyday person? That though often occurred within the tawny hybrid's mind, was he part of a weaker race? A whole different classification of canines? Either way he was a laborer. And likely to be one forever. Khi often considered himself lucky, what he had was good fortune compared to some other occurrences with other new slaves: tortured until broken, without the gift of speech. Parts taken for punishment. Khirot didn't hold any of those things. As long as he kept to his duties and always obeyed the high one's orders...He would live and not have to face the pain. Tharot should have listened to his refusal of running away. Would have saved his neck.
Ferrying the Sasolians across the waters had become a thing of life, built deeply into the fibers of the slave's survival. Don't upset the passengers. That would reward him punishment. It was pleasing however, knowing that he was rewarded for acting polite and obedient, not struggling from whatever master or higher canine whenever given a command. On the island (however lonely) there was plenty of freedom, there was a lack of chains and bindings, he still had his tongue! It was certainly much better than death. On occasion, the jackalwolf's mind would flick to the deceased Tharot, the attempted escapade alone with the downfall that cut his sibling down. Why not accept their status as laborers? It could not possibly be that unpleasant. In other more logical words, he worked to survive.
The sun had risen far enough to call it midtime daylight, enough to see and work in. The tides were high enough to sail upon, safe enough to moor and especially calm. The order given by the dark pelted queen was not forgotten, definitely not. Walking on fit legs, Khirot made his way to the small "ferry" stepping in and grabbing the cable. Strong arms pulled, propelling him against the small waves. Some days, the submissive canine would be terrified to venture out upon them, petrified of being blown down from an untamable water beast. The slave let his thoughts diminish as he spotted the Auxilla, always regal as she had ever been. When close enough, Khi dropped his ears to his skull, tail making its way to wrap between his legs in a show of submission. "Mistress." Khi spoke acknowledging her and the slave upon the hill, Molca came sometimes to give him meat. His own reward for acting like a slave should.