"Broken Shards"

[zauberdecke]

"In the dark
I need to taste the blood
Go on, draw another line
We can cross this time."
- Blindfold by Sleeping Wolf

---



[ Essek Thelyss: Shadowhand to the Dynasty.

One who reached further then the Luxon would allow, who would do absolutely anything for knowledge. Oh no, the man did not care for power, not really. He wanted to cast himself into the portal of knowing, he wanted to surrender himself to books and learning without having to deal with the mundanities of socio-politics that all of the Kryn engaged in. It was tedious and it filled him with sickness even as he plastered on an urbane smile for all and sundry to see.

Within the Dynasty, it was customary to take pets of the Empire; they were brought in across the border of Asarius, across the mountains and into the Dynasty. There were Dynasty born pets on the other side, both lost to the ravages of the other's civilization, generally never to be seen again.

Essek had never really had an interest to begin with when it came to pets; at the market he carefully avoided the slave blocks where those not of the Dynasty were paraded around. However, it had come to this-- it had come to his trading of the Beacon, and in return he recieved a Volstrucker to serve him. And yet, for all of that, Essek Thelyss had not thought he would receive a broken Volstrucker.

In fair trade, he and recieved a dossier on the man in question and had perused it with only a small semblance of annoyance while Trent Ikithon had assured him that a man like him could be rebuilt, the honeyed words of a silken snake which Essek recognized.

After all did not a predator recognize another predator? So now he held in his household a man whom had to be guarded carefully, though Essek was not cruel despite how he imagined Dynasty pets were treated, the cage that he had placed this Volstrucker named Bren within, well it was comfortable-- he'd seen pictures of Vergossen so he supposed it must be far better than that place. But he had not precisely interacted with him-- most of his unseen servants were given the walking of him, the care and maintenance of him.

Perhaps because he did not precisely know what to do with him, or what use he had for something broken. Though he arguably did not know what manner of broken the Volstrucker was, but after a week-- he decided perhaps it was time to summon him and see for himself; acertain what sort of work was cut out for him.

If this man was worth putting back together again.

So it was one evening, he had the Empire man summoned to his chambers. ]

Comments

[ausgebrannt]

[It took all Bren's willpower not to turn to follow the path that the Shadowhand took, but he did manage to keep still, his eyes following Essek until he was out of sight, eyes finding him once he reappeared in his periphery. Still that lingering thought at what judgment was being passed on him, what Essek saw looking at him.

...and apparently what he saw was the visible ribs. Another nod. He would not argue eating anything put in front of him. He'd barely subsisted in his state in Vergossen and Ikithon had not cared much for seeing him fed any more than was necessary to keep him alive to present to the Shadowhand.

Something flickers in his eyes at the promise of a different collar. Even if it still was spelled to keep him silent, at least it wouldn't be the one placed there by Trent Ikithon, and that already was an unimaginable improvement. He could be obedient. He could please his new master.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Essek was done with his assessments, he already was formulating what he would ask for when he took Bren to his tailor's shoppe, nothing too flashy, but which would still press upon the point that this Empire Pet was his. The proper way to do his hair, the acceptable garments, the pattern of his makeup; the tattoo. All of these little things would come together let everyone know that this man was his Pet.

And he was also hellbent on making sure that his own was turned out nicer than he knew for a fact Adeen cared for the management of his own Pet.

The food was brought up, placed on the coffee table by unseen hands-- a tray of food. To which point Essek waved a dismissive hand toward the coffee table. ] You have my permission to eat.

[ That threat still stood however. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren only hoped that when it came to being tattooed it would not involve his arms. He did not want to be marked like other Volstruckers, did not want to bear anything like those marks. The scars he already wore were bad enough.

He could smell the food before it appeared, and his stomach gave a rumble; it was not silenced by the collar, after all, only his voice. Still, he did wait until he was given permission. A moment of hesitation as he looked down at the pile of his clothes at his feet. No permission had been given for him to clothe himself though, so instead he moved towards the table.

Bren dropped to his knees by the coffee table and reached for a piece of bread. His gaze flickered up to look at Essek for a moment as if for confirmation before he took his first bite.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Despite being seemingly dismissive as he sat at his desk and penned a missive to his tailor to pay a call on him at his residence tomorrow morning, and bring everything that was needed to build a Pet Wardrobe, he was paying attention to the way that Bren hesitated only a fraction at his clothing before crouching down to have his supper.

Honestly, Essek would not have minded overly much if Bren had chosen to cover himself up even a little. The need to have his Pet naked twenty-four seven was very low on his list of priorities but the Volstrucker did exhibit something valuable.

And that was forethought. He did wave his hand for Bren to eat, an 'it's okay' sort of handwave, even as he finished his correspondence and then placed it in the hands of an unseen servant, who would then see it off in the correct location. Then he rose up from the chair; now that Bren was crouched, he allowed his feet to touch the ground-- and then he walked over to very lightly place his hand on the top of Bren's burnished copper hair. ] You are a very good boy, I did not expect to be so pleasantly surprised but here we are.

[ A stroke and then he was heading back toward his desk, where he then removed a very nice and elegantly bound book with crisp and clean parchment pages, and then as well a magick'd pen with ink within it-- it would need to be refilled ever so often but at this point in time it was full. He came back with it and laid it down for Bren, then rested the pen down lightly on top of it. ]

This is for you, a present. You may write anything you wish within it-- though I may ask that you use it to convey yourself to me when I ask for your words. [ He tapped against the cover lightly while he looked at that profile to see how his gift would be received. ] The ink will also have to be refilled within a few weeks depending on your use of it but I will never punish you for using too much and too quickly, nor will I take it away if you manage to displease me.

[ The Shadowhand decided to provide a little bit more clarity where expectations were concerned. ] My nature is to withhold further rewards, not take away ones already fairly earned.

[ There was a very brief pause. ] You may dress yourself whenever you choose to do so, Pet.

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren stilled mid-bite when Essek approached once more, noting the fact that his master seemed to have descended to earth this time. He wasn't expecting the touch, but the stroke of that hand over his hair and the words of praised that accompanied it had him nearly choking before he remembered how to swallow. It sent a jolt of something through him, shivery and electric. This man had spoken the first kind words to him that Bren had heard in years, and here was the failed Volstrucker starving for those scraps of praise. Was he really such a desperate, pathetic creature?

It would seem yes, especially the way his face lit up as he was given the blank book and pen and permission to use it as he wished. His lips twitched as if they were trying to remember how a smile actually worked, a subtle softening to his features, made sharp and lean by hunger and suffering, a flicker of who he might have been. Once upon a time.

He nodded his understanding once again. It was more than fair, that his master was offering these rules and expectations. Reaching for the book, he opened it slowly, taking up the pen in careful fingers. The first word written in the book, a strong, sure script with not much in the way of flourish, the handwriting of a man who wrote quickly as if he could not hope to match the speed of his thoughts but would keep up how he must. It was one simple phrase. 'Thank you.' He turned the page up to Essek so it could be seen.

He set the pen and journal down carefully, as if they were treasured things, still looking up at Essek, though bit by bit there was more presence in blue eyes, a growing curiosity about this drow who owned him now.]

[zauberdecke]

[ He looked down at the haphazard script in common and then he rested yet another hand on Bren's head, finding that he liked the feeling of fingers in the hair. It was perhaps a forward thing, and best only done in private, though he would argue that this Empire man was no more than a doll, and when one had a doll to play with, it was only natural to want to play with their hair, wasn't it? This man was not a Drow, was really nothing.

Essek told himself that because it made him feel better about himself.

He had never been one though to mistreat his toys; often times taking excessively good care of his belongings. Would put his playthings back on the shelf, store then appropriately; take then to get repaired when they became broken, keep them looking shiny and new. ] I have summoned my tailor to be here first thing tomorrow-- I have a social event I must attend in two evenings time, so perhaps something can be made ready for you by then.

[ His eyes strayed toward his wing chair. ] I will be passing the evening with a bit of reading, so after you are done eating and finished dressing, you will come and sit at my feet-- like a good boy, yes?

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren's eyes slipped mostly shut at the renewed touch, basking in it despite himself. He had no idea if it was forward or not, only knew that it simultaneously stirred and settled something in him -- and he'd have to think that over later when he was alone.

There was a spike of trepidation through him at the idea of a social event, the knowledge that he would be paraded around as the plaything he was, the eyes of countless strangers on him. He would not try to protest. This was his life now, the truth of his existence, and Bren knew that it was more than he deserved anyway.

Another nod at the question that was in reality a command. He turned his attention to the food, trying to stop the way his mind wanted to race, the way the anxiety in him wanted to spin up. It did not take long to finish the food that had been prepared for him, and for a moment he sat contemplating the feeling of actually having a full belly. The silence collar was likely a blessing in this moment because who knew what words would spill past his lips. He had so many questions, so many uncertainties.

He was a mess.

A moment spared to dress himself once again and Bren would bring himself over to kneel beside his master's feet as he'd been told. The journal and pen were set carefully beside himself, in reach, before he clasped hands behind his back. ...though he couldn't quite help but try to sneak a peek at what it was the Drow was reading.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Indeed, this was Bren's life- for better or for worse. It was not something that he'd very much control over; but then really the Volstrucker had not had much control in his life for a very very long time; so perhaps he should just endeavor to roll whatever waves this new life brought. The leather of the binding to the book was fine, the food had not been too bad either, and with crystal cool water to wash it down.

Even the bed in his caged room, it was not horrible-- just sparse (for the time being); the walls however were not white and his body was not encased in constricting clothing meant to bind and subdue. Altogether, so far it was shaping up to not be 'so bad' a life; if one just allowed oneself to just exist.

Essek was reading a tome in Undercommon, but there were sigils there-- strange magical sigils which would lead the other man to believe that he was reading something arcane and full of mystery-- at least mystery for someone who was not fluent in the drow language. When Essek was busy reading, he did not overly care what Bren did as long as he was positioned appropriately, in a kneeling position but if Bren wanted to write in his notebook, he'd probably have to beg permission to do so. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[All of this was better than what he had known -- in whatever part of him was consciously aware of his surroundings -- for a very long time indeed. That was part of the cognitive dissonance in him, that now that he was fully aware of the horrors of what he had done and what had been done to him, he was being treated well. He was a broken weapon, a blade that had shattered in the tempering and destroyed so much that he loved in the process.

Something in him preferred the pain, knew that it was what he truly deserved. He'd torment himself with that later, on his own, undoubtedly.

For now he looked at the language he did not understand and the magical sigils that he could at least recognize for what they were for, committing them to memory for later. Utter lack of self worth aside, Bren's mind was a curious thing, easily sparked and set afire with curiosity and the hint of knowledge to be obtained. He would have to find a way to learn Undercommon, he noted to himself. Doable, though it would take time.

He tried not to fidget where he was, but his gaze did drop to his notebook and then flicker back to Essek, unsure how to even begin to ask for permission given his current silent state. So he struggled internally, brow furrowed in thought.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Essek caught the fidget out of the corner of his eye, it was unavoidable and then there was the deep energy that seemed to encompass him. There was a brief moment where he had to reach for his bookmark, resting it very carefully within the folds and then he gave a very imperious incline of his head, there was something entirely unflappable about the drow as if he could weather any storm.

If there was any internal angst or dialogue, he gave absolutely no indication. ]

Yes, Pet? Do you have something to say? You may communicate it to me with your written words.

[ His eyes stray to where Bren had the book laying decorously to the side, his violet eyes full of expectations. It did not occur to the Shadowhand that a pet would be bored, and yet-- distantly, he thought that may very well be the case. Perhaps he would go a bit crazy if someone was reading and he was unable to do anything. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren went still as if he had been caught misbehaving, but eased after a moment when it appeared Essek wasn't visibly unhappy with him. He nodded, reaching for the book, opening it to pen out his request, holding it up for Essek to read, a pair of pleading blue eyes watchin him over the edge of the book.]

May I write, while you read?

[Because he was not doing well being left alone with his thoughts at the moment. They were a dangerous place at the best of times, and even worse since he'd been drawn out of the mental prison of his madness.

His teeth worried at his lower lip, uncertain. Bren was not a man used to asking for much of anything for himself, and it felt like overstepping, less because he was expecting Essek to be strict or deny him, but because he was being more trouble than he was likely worth.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Essek scanned the words that Bren had written in the notebook; if he knew his Pet better, he'd notice that they were jagged and panicked, but all he saw was the sharp angles of them. He glanced then at the face, those blue eyes that spoke volumes. ]

My apologies, you are-- unfortunately, my first pet so I am highly new to this. It means you may very well get away with some things because I do not know the proper protocol. I am learning, you could say. [ He tapped the words written lightly with a perfectly manicured fingertip. ] We should make this a bit easier, I suppose. If I am distracted and you wish to beg a request to me-- you may bump your forehead lightly against my knee.

[ It had been only a casual accident that he had even bothered to look up from his book. ] This comes into play especially when I am reading and/or working, as I tend toward absorption.

[ His hand settled once again on the top of Bren's head. ] You may write in your book; however-- for further information, what are other amusements you enjoy? I could use them as rewards.. for good behavior, of course.

[ausgebrannt]

[Visible surprise rose in Bren's eyes at the apology. As far as Bren was aware of how these things worked, Essek owed him absolutely nothing. He should be grateful that he hadn't been thrown into a cell and forgotten or beaten for entertainment or worse. More and more he was finding himself surprised and curious about this Shadowhand.

Another nod of acknowledgment. He could do that. It was a good solution, Bren thought, a reasonable one. More and more the fairness he was being treated with was underscored, and that treasonous little voice in the back of his mind repeated its litany over and over again that he didn't deserve it.

The hand atop his head interrupted that dangerous dark spiral, and his gaze fixed back into the present moment and focused on the question. It was a simple enough answer, a single word.] Books. I like books very much.

[zauberdecke]

[ His eyes scanned the words offered via the neat cream-coloured page ]

Books.. well if you continue to be good, I happen to have quite a vast library.

[ there was a bookcase in the sitting area of his chambers, where they were now, but it was fairly modest and housed his favorite books, the spines gleaming enticingly if Bren had caught sight of them. In fact, if he had the opportunity to look, he would see that a neat pile of books were on the coffee table, one or two housed on the mantle pf the hearth.

Clear hint that the Shadowhand was a reader, a voracious one at that ]

Do you have a particular favorite genre of book, Pet? [ if someone had told him that he would have found common ground with his Pet, he would not have believed them. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren, perhaps embarrassingly enough, perked up visibly at the word library, and if he weren't inclined to being obedient to begin with, that would have been reason enough for him to be a very good boy. He had caught sight of the bookcase and desperately wanted to go peruse and see what the drow was reading, but that clearly had not been something he'd been permitted to do. Yet.

But the books scattered about were certainly evidence that his master was a reader.

Another nod at the question. Oh he certainly had his favorite genre. What reason was there to pretend otherwise? He doubted his arcane studies would go any further than they had now. What need would a pet have of learning spells and magical theory?

It didn't stop him from answering true, though.] Magic. Studies of the arcane, magical theory, history.

[zauberdecke]

Very interesting.. those happen to be particular focus areas of study for myself, I am a wizard of Dunamacy and have published a few treatise and journals on the area of study.

[ How curious, he was not sure that Volstruckers could be magic users or scholars but well, there was little he knew about the Empire aside from that which had been revealed. He took was starting to become intriqued by the complexities of his Pet; from the broken look in those sad sea blue eyes to the way that for a single moment those eyes had lit up.

Oh no, he could see the benefits of owning a pet.

Perhaps though it was only this one that fascinated him. Adeen's pet was a trite thing and it was easy to ignore her, but Essek found himself just as interested. ] I will continue reading but please write in your notebook as you wish, I will be here for a few more hours and it will be boring just kneeling there.

[ausgebrannt]

[Another undisguisable flicker of interest at Dunamancy because he had heard of that, yes, but it was a deeply held secret within the Dynasty. And after the jolt of curiosity and his own insatiable hunger for knowledge -- especially knowledge of the arcane involved in the primal forces of the universe, of space and gravity and time -- a significantly less thrilling thought came.

His brow furrowed, and a frown tugged at his features. Before Essek could turn his attention entirely to his reading once more, Bren scribbled quickly in his book.]

Ikithon does nothing for kindness' sake. All his actions are for his own benefit and he does not care what the costs to others may be. If you are a Dunamancer, you have something he wants very much. I am not a gift. I am disposable. And I am likely meant to be a trap. Perhaps an anchor for scrying? Or something worse. I'm sure this is not a surprise to you, but I'd be remiss not to point it out.

[A deep breath and he held the book out so Essek could read this new spill of words across the page. Part of him wondered if pointing this out would remind Essek that he was in fact a broken, worthless thing that was gifted by a man who could not be trusted, if it would spell the end of the kindness shown him.]

[zauberdecke]

[ The book was presented to him and he very carefully took it, resting it on his lap as he read the words; if Bren was watching the expressions, he would see that the other man's eyes furrowed with the sort of intensity that that was focused complete on the words scrawled therein. After a few moments he inclined his head with a bit of understanding. His eyes drawing then over to the collar that Caleb wore, and it was very very pointed.

Then he reached for Bren's pen and then very gently dislodged it from his hand.

It almost looked as if he may have changed his mind to take away the notebook. Instead however, he pressed pen to page and started to write. ]

You owe me nothing and yet you've given me this information freely? I understand full well the man that Trent Ikithon is however perhaps you are of value, I can already see you know things, also if you were not filled with value, he would've kept you where you were in the Empire-- the fact that he is attempting to 'get rid of you' speaks far more than I think you realize.

[ And then Essek passed the notebook and pen back, with an arch look. ] Tomorrow morning, you will be fitted by my Tailor. I look forward to seeing how our wardrobes may coordinate.

[ Speaking of intrigue via the notebook, above the table-- something that would bore Trent Ikithon, that is if he was in fact keeping tabs. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[A small, subtle nod as Essek looked at the collar. Bren had considered that as well. Any scrying spell put on the collar would be at least partially obscured by the magic that kept him silent and contained. He did not fight to keep hold of the pen, willingly giving it up if Essek had decided to take it back, but far more intrigued when the drow began writing.

He took the notebook back, eyes scanning the words before lifting back once more to Essek. A faint frown and he began to write.]

I am an embarrassment for him, I think. I have no love for Trent Ikithon. He is a monster, and I would not have him cause anymore harm to anyone else.

You have been kinder than I deserve. There are things I know, but it is less than it might otherwise be. I have been indisposed for a long while. Still, what information I have is yours.

[He slides the notebook back, nodding to play his part. The tailor and wardrobes, yes. He understood the ploy, to keep the conversation mundane and unrelated, and he'd follow along, a keen understanding in his eyes.]

[zauberdecke]

[ A standard scry would not work on the his household, however a scry that was reliant upon voices and artificed into a collar? His eyes slid to the collar, to the neck that was revealed to be encased by it. Then he started to write, he had a feeling that Trent could not see, only hear. That was unsettling but as Bren also thought, it was not surprising and the Shadowland was not surprised whatsoever.

And still Essek would talk about trivial and frivolous stuff, things that he would speak to in a Pet's direction. After all, what would Bren have to contribute to the conversation of subjects that Essek Thelyss professed himself interested in?

Unspokenly, probably quite a bit. ]

Your colouring, sadly-- it will not accommodate silver very well; so gold will have to do, and warmer colours than the ones that I generally favor; I will not wear gold, but rather silver-- so I will simply have to focus on you 'complimenting' instead of matching.

[ He was writing, much like they were passing notes underneath the Professor's nose. ]

I am a selfish man, Pet; do not forget that; I want knowledge; not power-- knowledge. It has been what has driven me and I have my reasons. However, that being said you are mine now, not Trent's.

[ He then passed the notebook back to Bren one last time, his fingers relinquishing the pen back to his orange Empire Kitten. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren waited patiently as Essek wrote, listening to what was said out loud as well. And Essek was right about what he was saying too; Caleb was better fit in warmer colors, though he had certainly never worn gold before of any sort. That would be a matter for tomorrow though, and Bren was in no way prepared for any of it.

He had no choice but to be silent, but he still waited patiently to see what the drow was writing now. Knowledge, not power. Bren could understand that. It had long been his drive as well, to learn, to know, to do good for what he had been so naive to believe was the greater good.

He'd been a stupid child, but that was not an excuse for his crimes.

The you are mine now struck him in a way that he had not expected, a clenching in his chest and a heat that threatened to pool in his belly. Not Trent's. Yes, not his anymore, no matter where his life would lead him now. He set the notebook in his lap, nodding. He understood.

He would let Essek return to his book, would content himself with writing in his book, starting with the spells that he remembered, as if recreating his spellbook would somehow matter. It was soothing though, the arcane sigils and circles, the verbal components, the diagrams of the somatic gestures. For a moment he could pretend things were normal, that it was a decade ago and he was a simple student at his studies, before everything had gone wrong.

And maybe unconsciously, kneeling where he was, he started leaning, ever so slightly, against the Shadowhand's leg, as if so starved for touch and proximity that he acted without fully intellectualizing what he was doing.]

[zauberdecke]

[ Essek went back to his reading though, though ever so often he would flick a glance down at the page. From his vantage point, Bren could hide very little from him-- he saw the somatic sigils being drawn and he wondered how the other many could do it from memory, he recognized the sigil for a 1st level Transmutation spell, faithfully recreated seemingly from memory. Though he attempted not to be too direct by it, a matter of sideways glances.

He was not the sort that would attempt to gatekeep knowledge, so he would not look askance at this nor would he attempt to curtail it. Instead he rested his free hand at the back of Bren's neck and lightly stroked in an almost soothing manner, little traces here and there while he focused more and more attention on what he was reading.

It was likely though that the Pet would grow tired far sooner than Essek did. Due to the fact that Essek normally did not seek his trance until the early hours of the morning. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren, for his part, was not trying to hide what he was doing either. Not this anyway. He wrote the notes for his spells in Common, so that there would be no mystery to what he was doing. At least for those pieces. The hand at the back of his neck was a soothing presence, and he only hated himself a little for how much he liked the touch.

As the hours wore on, Bren would turn to pages towards the back of the book and start writing what looked like it may have been a letter -- one he knew he would never send. This was written in Zemnian, Liebe Mutter und Vater, Ich weiß, dass mir nicht vergeben werden kann. Es tut mir so leid... It would be the first of many missives of this nature, pouring out his regret and guilt to eyes that would never be able to see it.

Eventually though, sleep started pulling at him. He shut the book and tucked the pen carefully with it. He leaned more heavily against Essek's leg, head beginning to loll as he fought nodding off, eventually losing the battle and ending up tipping so that his head rested against his master's thigh.]

[zauberdecke]

[ The soft sounds of sleep eventually caught Essek's attention and then after a few moments he just lingered there and with Bren's head against his knee; he did not need to steal a glance, he could look upon Bren whenever he wished, openly. However he did allow himself a moment more of reading before he moved it. Finally he used a spell to adjust the gravitational density of Bren and then he very carefully had then Unseen Servants pick him up and carry him back to his little caged room.

The notebook and pen was carried along with it.

The next morning breakfast would come for Bren, and wake him up. It was the standard food provided for breakfast, a thick oatmeal with honey and citrus' earl grey swirled into it--along with blackberries fresh from the Lotus Den. It was the same sort of breakfast that he was given many mornings over in the past week. It would of course be up to Bren to consume that which was given to him.

After that, Bren was whisked back up to Essek's chambers where the Tailor was waiting, alongside Essek.

That resulted in a whirlwind of fittings and measurements while Essek watched. Discussions on fabrics, complimenting styles, even an elegant black leather leash was discussed, something that could be hooked effortlessly into a glove of which a ring would be attached, so that if need be-- Essek did not have to precisely hold the leash. That, of course, relied on his Pet being obedient.

In the end, there was an assortment of clothing made up for Bren; 75 percent of the tops having parts of the chest cut out, so as to bare Bren's own torso-- sometimes it was just a top half, that covered collarbone and shoulders, other times a sharp V that went all the way down to the waistline of trousers. and even still would come patterns that only consisted of a series of bands and belts that ran up the torso, affixed with hooks-- through each though, Essek consulted plates of previous Pet Fashion.

Every single time though, there was that subtle demand that his Pet be the first stare of fashion; he was conceited enough to want his Pet to set the fashion for all Pets to follow-- because it was Essek, and he had standards as high as his heeled boots.

After three hours, Bren was finally released back for lunch. ]

[ausgebrannt]

[Bren woke the next morning with a rush of sleepy confusion at waking somewhere that he had not fallen asleep. It was easy enough, as consciousness settled in to put together what had happened, and he mentally kicked himself for falling asleep like some overtired child. But there was no help for it. He had a bit of a stare down with his breakfast, but hunger won out and he ate half of it, even while that nagging voice in the back of his mind berated him for enjoying this new captivity, for not deserving this kindness and generosity.

The guilt only grew after the whirlwind up being fitted for clothes. Even if the cut and styles of the clothes clearly marked him as a Pet to be put on display, a reminder of his station and status here, the clothing was frankly luxurious compared to anything that Bren had ever known or worn, the fabrics fine and soft and...

None of this was right. He was a murderer. His hands would never be clean of their sins. He was a weapon that had splintered in the tempering rather than been strengthened, a failure of everything he had such good intentions of becoming.

So when he was set back to lunch, he couldn't bring himself to take in the food, preferring the ache of the hunger as he curled in on himself and took up his notebook. Ich bin ein verachtenswertes Monster. Ich verdiene es nicht zu leben. Repeated across the page over and over again as if he could write it out of his thoughts.]