(--)
Eris is by Savannah!
The words intrigued her, and she tilted her head at him. Eris pondered him. They had taken bigger slaves than this -- the massive, monstrous-tall wolf they'd traded in Freetown, for example. Was he a fighter, as the TaeKyung slave? If he fought, she did not think he stood much of a chance against the ebony-furred machine belonging to Salvia. She was studying his single lime eye with bright yellow-green ones of her own. That eye was startling, and she found she could not bear its gaze for long, though she looked away from him with a faint sniffing sound, as if trying to pretend it was his haggard look and scars which caused her discomfort. It's not a matter of enjoying, she said. Though -- a slave who chooses and enjoys slavery is so much better than one who fights or flees.
Slaves listen and know their place. You're all scarred up. Scars, I've noticed, tend to make a bolder slave than they'd like.
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