Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Delta had walked quietly down to the docks, following Lakia just half a step behind. Down from the highs that Psinia always left her in, it was one of those rare days where Delta was entirely content and satiated. When Lakia had told her they were heading out, Delta barely fought. Their conversation seasons previously had made it easier on the reluctant slave. she still hated her lot in life - she longed for her father, for the seas - but the young biqaj was beginning to feel a sort of… empathy for her Mistress. It was somewhat horrifying, to think that she might be starting to care for the other woman, but after years of constant companionship… it was only to be expected.

Not that she was giving in.

The two stood at the docks in silence. Brilliantly blue eyes, much like the cool water they looked out on, spoke of desire, yet acceptance. She missed the high seas so much. Pulled from her thoughts, she turned quizzically to her Mistress and unconsciously accepted the small vial of liquid. She stared at it as Lakia spoke, explaining of the deception she had been under for three arcs. Her eyes, which were now round in shock, flashed viridian as the other woman continued. It was all a lie.

“You…” she stopped herself, as she dragged her gaze away from the vial to stare at the naer. Her knuckles went white as she gripped the vial, and she worked hard to channel all of her anger into the satisfaction that the vial would soon smash under the pressure in the palm of her hand. Delta took a deep breath. In. Out. Hold. Again.

As her breathing relaxed, so did her eyes neutralise. They did not return to the bright cerulean they had been before, however. They now sat at a cool teal. Her resentment was towards the naerrikk race as a whole, rather than this single individual before her, but that did not stop the pain. Lakia was a product of the problem, regardless of her kindness and genuine need to be liked. Delta was a slave due to Lakia’s obsessive desire for companionship… but that did not make it right.

“Why are you telling me this now?” She finally asked, her mind racing over her options. She could flee - now that she knew Psinia was all she needed, she could leave and source the drug herself. When she was ready… she could get herself off it. Surely a few days of pain would be worth freedom. A plan began to formulate in her head, and she barely registers Lakia’s offer to help her through the withdrawal. Surely she did not think Delta would stay, now?

Delta could not believe what she was hearing. Well, she could, but she didn’t want to believe it. Her father didn’t raise a fool; she should have been able to see through the lies. but, more than anything, Delta was hurt. Despite all she had been through, and how much she had rebelled against her Mistress over the past two arcs… despite wanting to hate her, a bond had been formed, one which was almost familial in nature.

A very small part of her didn’t want to leave. Lakia’s words only strengthened that. How weak and maudlin was the woman, that she had considered giving over to death? Yet, she also proved herself strong, to be willing to fight for the sake of a meaningless slave. Lakia Amarinthine, for all her faults, was not a bad person. Delta shook her head. How would she be empathising with this monster? “No,” her whispered word was harsh, though mostly meaningless.

And then she scoffed, “You need me?” She bit out, her tone incredulous. How dare Lakia have the audacity to speak to her in such a familiar way. “I owe you nothing, Lakia,” she spat, eyes flashing with nothing less than undiluted hatred. “Your people ripped me from my life, my family. They beat me, drugged me. You removed my free will, lied to me, caused me pain and anguish, and you think I can just forgive you? Move on from today after you reveal the only card you held, and think I would do nothing? Lie back and take it? You thought I would accept, and stay? But I can't leave anyway, can I? Your people branded me, condemned me!”

She had, in all her arcs with her Mistress, never spoken so much at once to Lakia. But the hurt, the agony, the suffering, which had always been kept behind tightly behind adamantium walls in her mind, defences built to protect herself from her situation, quickly came crumbling down. And she felt everything. The vial cracked in her hand, but the spasm of pain only fuelled her words. “You are barbarians, you naerrikk! Disgusting, loathsome creatures that ruin this land with your foul existence! Idalos would be so much better off without you. I would rather suffer through arcs of withdrawal, if it meant I never had to look upon your detestable face!”

So lost in anger was Delta that she had switched to her native tongue; unless Lakia had picked up some of the language, much of it would be indecipherable, but the ferocity with which she spat the words would not be missed on her Mistress. Then, the language reverted back to the Common Tongue, “It would have been better if you had died! An icy death for a cold, dead heart. I hate you!” Her arm swung back and, lighting fast, her open, uninjured palm swung forward to collide with a loud 'crack' against Lakia’s cheek.

There was no time for Delta to wait for a reaction, though, she did not even consider the other woman. Suddenly, the slave felt very, very tired. Her knees gave way and the tears, which had been threatening to fall throughout her episode of raging, finally cascaded down her cheeks. Uncontrollable, violent sobs wracked her body as she knelt forward, clutching her hand to her chest. The fight in her faded away as she rocked gently, repeatedly whispered, “I hate you.”

The slave was in turmoil: thoughts were racing; breathing was erratic; her whole body shook; and pain spiked in her heart. The sobs did not stiffen and, perhaps for the first time ever, Delta did not stiffen, nor pull away, as Lakia’s hesitant arm rested upon her. She barely registered the touch of her despicable Mistress, save the strangely comforting warmth.

It took a long time for Delta’s tears to stop, for the sobs to calm into hiccups and sniffles. Her body became calm as the outburst drained her muscles of all residual energy. As she calmed, she said nothing, just kneeling, bottom resting on the heals of her feet as she stared down at her injured hand, where shards of glass had penetrated through the skin. She had heard the words Lakia had uttered, but she had no room left in her mind to process the self-pitying excuses the near provided for her treatment of another sentient creature.

She turned her thoughts to breathing, and clearing her mind. In. Out. In. Out. It was easier than trying to think of what her future held, now that she knew how much power she had. To have been stripped of any free will for at least three arcs, now that freedom was in her grasp, the slave was at a complete loss for how to respond, or what to do. It was like she had forgotten how to manage her life. What was she supposed to do now?

Eventually, the sniffles and hiccups became more infrequent, and Delta blinked away the final tears, clearing her blurred vision. She did not raise her head, which now was somehow resting upon her Mistress’ collarbone, as she murmured, “I don’t want it anymore…” Her voice, damaged from all her screaming and crying, was harsh and barely above a whisper. But Lakia would be able to hear it.

“I don’t want the drugs.” For now, that was the only decision she had to make. Once she had made that decision, perhaps making other decisions about her life once more would become easier.