Sky's the Limit

[Dante Sotari]

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Treema​

Klatooine​

It wasn't entirely legal. But then, few things were on Klatooine.

Slavery was outlawed in Silver space, but old habits died hard where Hutts held quiet sway for a millennia. Word of mouth or invitation only, the rings weren't flesh circuses and chattel auctions. These sales catered to a cycling clientele, those looking for something different than what could be found open market elsewhere. Held in the back room, or in the off club hours, these auctions were small business but big money- and sometimes, just sometimes, an opportunity.

A left off of the main thoroughfare. A right just past the perfectly legal weapons shop. Down a flight of stairs. You have the password, don't you?

A half a dozen slaves, on display. Four times that many potential buyers but most would never lay a bid. The broker, a near human with teeth too sharp to pass when he smiled, milled about, complimenting, cajoling, answering questions and offering suggestions based on just what the buyer was looking for. Silent bidding, nothing so crass as shouted numbers and waving hands. Merely a number, entered into a ledger anonymously- one that could be changed until closing, but unseen and handled by a stationary droid in the far corner- delivery of goods upon full payment or up front credits and walk with their goods.

A half dozen slaves, on display. Three were frightened, fresh to collar and unbroken with skills gained 'in the wild' as the broker called it. Two were bored but tense, familiar with the process, given over to what was to come but still on edge until just which of the buyers laid claim- some of those here today were well known even to them, and of those, a few promised not merely casual but deliberate cruelty in their eyes.

One showed nothing at all.

"Ah, Lot 340," the broker purred. "Obedient. Steady nature. Sturdy."

"To be honest, twi'lek's do nothing for me," came the low hiss of a reply from a well dressed Trandoshan. "Entirely too common, a credit a dozen. You must be kidding, offering her with the others."

The broker's smile widened.

"340, be a doll? What, sir, would be to your tastes then?"

The Transdoshan gave him a quizzical look. He opened his mouth to answer, but already the lavender twi'lek was shifting.

"You do not even need to speak your preference, good sir," the broker murmured, his voice oily and impossibly smooth. "Lot 340 can anticipate your desire and customize to your specific.... Preferences."

The show, as skin melted and folded and flowed caught the attention of several others. The emotionless expression on her face never changed- it was the only constant as the shape reformed into that of a taller, bone slender Falleen woman. Black hair fell in a cascade down to her waist from a strip between overly defined cranial ridges.

The Trandoshan paused, for a moment, eyes sweeping before he reached out to run a clawed hand through that hair. She didn't move, didn't flinch, even when his fist closed, hair threaded through every finger. He held it for a moment before, reluctantly, letting go.

"Someone else then?" The broker raised his voice only a touch. "What next?"

A Bothan. An Icarii. A Nautolan. A Gamorrean.

At that, laughter and disgust.

"Who's imagining *that*?" "Sick. Go back to something we all want to-"

A Galacian. She stayed in that form then, as the Broker brought the attention back, away from pale blue skin and pastel hair.

"A shapeshifter, gentlemen. Not merely obedient but attuned to any whim. You will find the minimum bid quite reasonable if you speak to C4 in the corner, considering the..... flexibility.... of this lot- 340, in case you are considering....."

Lot 340 stood in silence. Eyes not down cast, but not really seeing either. It was easier, when none of it was particularly real, after all.

No effort at all really.

@Xian Varlart

 

[Arage Bao]

Butchers, peddlers, silver-tongued devils and scum.

There were types of slavers, none of them were the same, but they all had one thing in common: they always cared more about themselves than anyone else.

They had to.

Otherwise you wouldn't get into the business of selling life meat on the market. Meat, they referred their wares as, to detach themselves from the reality. Which was that they sold living sentients to the highest bidder (usually). But there was one specific type of slaver that always brought concern to everyone involved, up and down the chain.

The slave-turned-slaver.

That particular piece of shite that had experienced shackles around their wrists, the lashing whip of their master on their back, the burns against their flesh... and instead of fleeing it? Embracing it, once they set themselves free.

Xian was no different in this regard.

There was heavy scarring on his right shoulder, burns badly healed from a Master's threat. His face tattooed, the natural pink giving away to dark purple all across his body. It gave him a fierce look, a killer look, a look that said: look at me too long... and you might never look away again.

Teeth white, too white to be completely natural and they weren't.

"I will take her." Valart calmly said, cutting through the merriment, the soft whispers to themselves and most of all the furious tapping of bids rolling into the system for the shapeshifter.

"Ahhh, monsieur Valart, if you are interested all you have to do is bid, hon hon hon!" The nervous tic of a Tapani slaver next to him.

More murmurs as the exclusive group of rich (and pompous) slavers whispered anew. Why is he here? Who invited him even? Look at him, so... unclean. But none of them said it outloud, not even the Trandoshan looking hungrily at the Shi'ido slave. The broker looked back to his attache, then to the group, then to Xian.

He gulped.

"Mister Valart, this is a bidding session, you must bid if you are interested."

Through all of this Xian stayed remarkably calm. Besides the sweet, soft caress of the Blastsword's hilt beneath his hand. "I will take her."

The repeat sounded just as determined, but now there was a tone of caution inside of it.

Once again the slavers looked at each other, coughing, frowning. How dare he! (still not saying it outloud), because all of them knew his reputation. It was that same reputation that had invited him, because his hauls of meat were the largest and his tributes to the Hutts the biggest.

Then their fingers left the buttons of the datapads.

And Xian typed in a bid of his own.

Nobody inserted their own bid after that.

The broker brushed away some of the sweat on his forehead, looked around, pleading for others to stand-up to this one, but they all looked away in that moment. Then the hammer fell down and the bid was accepted as the winning one. "Lot 340 to Mister Valart! You can collect her at the end of the event."

Polite and nervous clapping ensued, but Valart simply resumed scrolling past the datapad.

As if no stand-off had just occurred at all.

 

[Dante Sotari]

​The deep blue, almost black, gaze of the Galacian only flickered to the Twi'lek once through the scene. And then away again after a single, heavy moment, before there was any risk of meeting his eyes.

She was led into the back room for the remainder of the evening, joined by the others more slowly, removed from the selling floor once their new owner's bids were accepted and verified. She watched the others impassively, because watching them was better than watching nothing and it made sitting on the chair she had been offered slightly more bearable. Better to focus on the actual scene before her than the one filtering through the worn wood where it pressed against her bare back.

The phantom sensation of hands bound roughly behind the chair clashed with the reality of her hands settled lightly in her lap, after all.

Did all of the seats in the back room have the memories of malcontents being beaten to a paste imbedded in them? She wondered idly, keeping the memories that leaked out of the wood like slow moving sap at a distance.

It wasn't the worst of the memories she had gleaned recently. Not by a long shot.

Two hours passed before the event finally drew to a close. Two of the slaves in the back room cried, clinging to each other. The new ones, those, the third in a state of quiet shock. She watched them impassively. It was difficult to find pity. Most of them had gone to known buyers, sold at high prices. This wasn't the meat markets of Nar Shaddaa, they were too expensive to be seriously mistreated. Only a small handful of the buyers would casually drop the kind of credits being talked about tonight and then beat them to death in a fortnight.

Oddly, when she said that out loud, it didn't seem to help. If possible, it made it worse.

Those ice blue shoulders rose and fell and she stood when her lot was called.

She didn't know the man who had purchased her. Her last owner rarely spoke of business at home, and in truth, rarely spoke to her at all. He preferred quiet, even when he required her, and she had grown if not comfortable with it, at least accustomed to silence. She skipped over his mind, the briefest of surface touch, as she had with the buyers when choosing forms when bidden to. He hadn't been the one to think of the pale blue skin and pastel hair framing her face, so she was surprised when the impression she found of his preference for her (once they knew, they always had something they wanted) was the face she was currently wearing.

Surprise was not an emotion she felt frequently, so a flicker of it crossed her face before she retreated back behind the expressionless visage. She bowed, not knowing the level of obedience preferred yet (that she could not find without deeper probing and she had once made a master very very angry with that), so she defaulted to an inoffensive down cast gaze, and the habit of 'only speak when spoken to' that had been instilled (often forcefully) on her as a child.

The slaves here tonight all wore collars, but one crafted with subtly in mind. The remote, rather than a chain, was handed to the Twi'lek when payment was received- after all, this was a clandestine sale- walking a person down the street of Treema like a pet on a leash would be noticeable and attract attention none of them desired.

 

[Arage Bao]

The rest of the meeting was irrelevant.

Valart had not been expecting to buy anything here, but his first mate had pressed it on him. Told him that it was important to show your facd every once in a while. It shaped perception and got your name out at the very same time. But something told the Twi'lek that Dogan had not been expecting him to bully an entire group of slavers into ceasing their bidding.

Which was kinda Dogan's own fault, because how could he not expect it?

Hours later the Twi'lek strode into the waiting room, exchanged money for property and they were on their way right after. There was no attempt at communication nor the acknowledgment of presence, no, Valart simply assumed she would follow.

There was nothing exciting about what followed next. An air speeder brought them to a little house on the fringes of the city, but only after circling around a few times to make sure they weren't followed.

A private landing pad ensured privacy.

They entered the building without anyone interrupting them, which was according to protocol. Hefty purchases such as these ones made it necessary to have quiet environments for transition purposes. He led her into a moderately comfortable room. Furnished with two couches and a chair, a low table in the middle and food already waiting on top of it.

"Have you been fed yet?" Valart asked patiently. "Eat, if you are hungry."

 

[Dante Sotari]

Nothing exciting.

To him.

Despite the typical unpleasantness of it, one of the first things she usually did after gauging surface preference was to deliberately touch things that belonged to a new master. It gave her insight- warnings more often- and sometimes it allowed her to taylor her behavior in ways that kept her safe, becoming aware of a trigger or a pattern of behavior with a new master in advance had more than once been the difference between life and death.

The sensation of speed far above the actual pace of the speeder- adrenaline, wind, the dizzying flash of the outside with the brilliancy of the recent- she brought her hand after a casual brush with the seat back into her lap. She'd been braced for far worse, so there was a certain pleasant appreciation for not finding it. Of course, she did not assume that would be the case in all things. Assumptions were never safe. And it meant that she would have to keep looking. Which was rarely a pleasant experience.

Not long after, she followed into the house, still quiet and not merely obedient but almost anticipatory.

"Not since this morning," she replied softly, only speaking now that she had been asked a direct question. Her tone was even, almost delicate in a match to the form she wore. She did not elaborate, since in her experience that was rarely desired.

She watched him out of the side of her eye, not looking directly at him (never do that until you know it is permissible, never), the anticipatory sensation there.....

Except he didn't move. Did not sit first, did not look as though he intended to eat at all- but as though he were waiting for her. As soon as she recognized that sliver of body language she moved. It didn't take long, only an extra pair of heartbeats, but there was enough of a hesitation to notice. It also left her not knowing where he wanted her to *sit*. Back teeth set against each other slightly.

When in doubt, she went the safest route.

The table was low enough that it was a reasonable option. In a movement so practiced it could have been choreographed, she stepped forward and sank to her knees- a spot that would not obstruct his movement if he changed his mind, and allowed her easy access to the whole of the table.

She waited there for another moment. Two. One hand gently brushed the edge of the table, as if admiring it-

Nothing.

Nothing of note, anyway.

The barest trace of a twitch downward at the corner of her lips, otherwise set in an entirely neutral line.

And then she reached out, and slowly started serving food. To herself. Self conscious now in a way she was not accustomed to, and resisting the urge to check again.

Was it a test? A trap? Or would checking again, even silently questioning his command (Eat, if you are hungry) anger him?

She'd known masters of both types, after all.

 

[Arage Bao]

Say one thing for Xian Valart, say he's impatient.

"You move slowly, waiting, testing." The words snapped into existence, but without the measure of physical force behind it. "I do not test. I do not hide behind words. If I say something, that is all there is to it. No hidden meanings."

His attention shifted from the table to her eyes now, demanding she looked him in the eye by sheer force of will.

"If I say sit, I mean sit. If I say eat, I mean eat. Do not attempt to look further than what there is." There was a distinct distaste in his tone now. Even the curl of his lip turned downwards in a scowl. One that almost suggested he had been fed something badly or that his drink wasn't too pleasant. Valart had always hated the silver tongues and whispers of secrets. They hid behind flowery words, instead of coming out to say exactly what they meant. They thought themselves clever? But in truth it only made them look like cowards.

"Eat. I have no use for weakness."

And right now this one seemed full of weakness.

Broken, shattered, already her resistance and force of will faded away by the coming of time. This was why Valart had little to no problem selling sentients on the market... more often than not they did not deserve anything better.

This one interested him though.

Perhaps there was potential.

[member="Echoes"]

 

[Dante Sotari]

Every master was different. They might fall into general categories, but no two owners were exactly alike, and each of them required something different from her. Some she could map in the heartbeat surf across the mind, others by the histories written into the objects they surrounded themselves with. With none of those to go on, she had taken all that she had- the patience of his tone a moment prior.

A mistake.

Her eyes met his with the weight of his gaze, that unspoken order- just as important as any words-

"As you wish, thank you Master," she murmured, her tone still even, face still neutral.

His tone, his insults, rolled off of her like water. Words had no power, not like that. Not to hurt her. Being accused of weakness? What did that possibly matter? It wasn't a raised hand or worse. Words she could accept the weight of without bowing shoulders. Even if she had known that he considered her broken, she would not have argued. Slaves didn't argue with their owners. Not and survive. No, she would not have argued.

But he would be wrong nonetheless.

She did not drop the hesitation because she fully believed him, but because he ordered it. Whether he actually was what he said he was, well, that was irrelevant. Too many times words and actions did not match, and truthfully, those were the most dangerous sorts. Unpredictable, hypocritical, and only realizing those things about themselves in the subconscious which led to the part that made them dangerous- anger. Time and his actions would tell what kind of a Master he was.

She looked away first, but for practical reasons. There was no way to eat as he'd commanded and remain staring up at him, after all.

Or there was, but she did not get the impression that was what he wanted.

She started to eat, neither particularly slowly nor particularly rushed either. Not hesitating, as he required, but not shoveling the food in response to his words either. There wasn't fear in her response to his command that would cause someone less experienced to over compensate.

The quality of the food, considering that he made no move to join her, surprised her. She blinked, chewing carefully (but then, carefully was how she did everything). There were few moments of enjoyment she could pin point in her life. But this might be one of them.

In truth, the food was simple but of good quality, nothing that most people would even register beyond 'the food is good.' So for her to tuck that first bite, even wrapped in the insecurity of this new Master, into the mental pocket of a half dozen 'pleasant' memories....

Shi'ido are a long lived race. She had been taken into slavery when she was five. Keeping track of years was difficult, and not knowing her exact birth date made it even harder. But she had spent over sixty years as a slave, and she would take those moments as they came.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

There was silence while she ate.

At some point the Twi'lek had turned his back on her and quietly moved towards one of the windows. Instead of watching her eat, opting to simply study the outside. Klatooine had been brilliant once - a pearl of dust, blood and the ultimate freedom. But much as with the rest of the worlds it had fallen to the Silver Jedi.

Kessel was gone, Klatooine and the rest of the Cluster, the Black Ties were squatting on Nar Shaddaa and the other Hutt Worlds like an infestation of useless rodents.

It made him angry.

There was stagnation now. Complacency. No movement up and down anymore, instead being replaced by the comforting embrace of the rule of Law.

At some point the chewing had stopped.

"What is your name?" Valart asked a minute or more after. "Rather, what do you refer yourself to, outside of the confines of a lot number and the brand."

If he did not sound like the usual slaver, it was because he wasn't. Either way Valart hadn't bought this one simply to sell off or even to keep as a little toy. There was a hunger within the slaver, a hunger of ambition, a hunger for more power, to become something greater than he was right now.

This one might be the key to that.

Maybe.

[member="Echoes"]

 

[Dante Sotari]

There wasn't even a pause, no hesitation in her response to his question.

"My last master called me Anara," she said as she put the fork down lightly. Not a single break in that neutrality, either in tone or expression.

The wording on that and his own experience in the trade made it clear that she was as accustomed to taking new names as she was to taking new faces. She could recite, if he asked, every single name, and the preferred face, that she had worn in her life. Sure, some masters had preferred variety, but even those went back to a particular favorite, time and time again. Like her face, she felt no claim to a name that was hers. It was impossible when she never got to keep one.

It didn't particularly bother her.

If it had, she never would have made it this far.

She didn't need to give him permission to call her what he liked. That wasn't her place and she didn't say anything of the sort.

You may choose what you wish to call me.

That was a given.

Her first name, before she was a slave? She remembered it. But she kept it deep within, a kernel of herself that was surrounded by a layer of stone. Protected and never brought out because that risked too much. It wasn't her name now. It never could be again because she would never be that child again. But she kept it like a keepsake mind, the only kind she had ever been permitted to retain.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Xian studied her for a moment.

"That is your slave name." His hand waved dismissively. "I am not interested in that. What is your real name."

This wasn't at all how it usually went between a master and a slave. No matter if she had been for reselling or for general purpose, but Xian had a different plan for her. Maybe. At this point in time it was too early to decide if she could handle it. If he was willing to give her that kind of freedom.

After a while his attention slipped to her food.

"Are you fed now?" She had eaten a fair amount, but every body was different. It wouldn't do for her to be hungry, not with the things he had in mind for her anyway.

Perhaps all of this was confusing her.

Why would a slaver be interested in all of these things? Valart doubted she'd ask, but it was interesting to see how she reacted to things she wasn't expecting. It was in those moments, between surprise and slow recovery, that you could find out surprising things about the people you were interacting with.

[member="Echoes"]

 

[Dante Sotari]

That did give her pause. She stayed staring at the empty plate, her hands very still on the table. But there was a tension in her shoulders.

If in doubt, be still, a voice from a very long time ago whispered to her.

Surprises were.... uncomfortable. She knew how the relationship between slave and master worked on the base level. Each one looked different under magnification, but there were certain constants, certain themes that were inescapable and predictable.

That is your slave name.

Of course it was. Because that was what she was.

The name from her childhood floated up briefly, hopefully, a five year old's tentative smile attached to it. Gently she pressed it back down. She had no desire to trust him with that. And truthfully.... that hadn't been her in such a long time. To take it back now seemed..... wrong. Somehow. In this place, at this time.

He hadn't asked for her 'first' name. It was a ghost, a memory, cherished but insubstantial and shadowy. It wasn't real any more than the rest of them were. He had asked for her 'real' name.

"Echo," she responded after a moment. "And yes, Master. I have eaten sufficiently."

She was just as comfortable switching between 'I' and the more abasing 'this one'. Different owners required different things from her. She took a gamble from what she had seen so far that I was perfectly acceptable here, with this man.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Echoes"]

That was enough for him.

Xian doubted that it was her 'first' name, but that wasn't the name he was after. After all... the name you were given at birth was just another type of slavery, was it not? You had no choice in the matter, you simply had to hope that your parents had done a good job picking it out and in the end it would define your entire existence, unless you managed to break those shackles. So, in that regard 'Echo' was the truest name the woman could have picked.

The name she had chosen for herself.

"Good." Valart finally said, before settling himself down in one of the couches opposite of hers. "Are you well-rested or are you in need of sleep?"

Head tilted.

"An honest answer, please."

Few masters understood the need to take proper care of their wares. Meat was meat, but if you did not take good care of it, then it would spoil away and become useless. Especially with the amount of credits he had spend on her (much less than what the auction had wanted, but still a relatively large investment), Xian was not about to let this one go to waste.

That was bad business sense.

 

[Dante Sotari]

She had remained kneeling on the floor, the low table making that position perfectly acceptable even for eating. She drew her hands slowly into her lap as he settled down on the couch across from her, head not deeply bowed, but tilted down ever so slightly, eyes not meeting his- not out of fear of him specifically, but simply out of habit.

"I will always give you an honest answer, Master," she said softly.

Lying to her master was not something she thought she could do without giving it away- the nerves, the fear of repercussion from such an act was not worth the act itself.

She reached out telepathically, again, brushing just barely against the surface.

Ah. Honest was only one part of what he meant. He wanted a straight forward answer, perhaps with detail to an extent because a simple yes would not give him additional data, but not prettily put or carefully crafted. That would be harder because those sorts of replies were as much second nature as anything else. She would have to keep that desire consciously in mind when speaking to him then.

"It was not a particularly trying day," she answered truthfully. It was not the first time she had been bought and sold, the process of the slave trade impacted little anymore. "But changing forms so quickly in such a short span is exhausting. I can continue if required, but sleep would be welcome."

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Valart had his doubts about that first statement.

After all, he had been a slave in a distant past and lies had come just as natural as anything else to him. But one reality, one experience did not have to be a baseline for every single one of them. So perhaps this one had learned the hard way that lying could be problematic at best and potentially fatal at worst.

He nodded shortly and let her answer the question.

It was just as he had expected, plus it gave him some measure of answer - if he decided to trust her anyway. The fact that shape-shifting wasn't easy or without its costs, that she needed time to recover after a quick succession of tries. Which made him wonder if they could improve on that. If they could make her stronger. More gifted. Xian wondered exactly what kind of limits the woman had in this regard.

But there was enough time to test that out later.

"Very well. Follow." Xian finally said. He waited for her to get up and then they were away, taking a corner here, a stairs down and then eventually reached a simple room.

There were a few, but only this one was open.

Through it was a simple room. No decoration, but it had a cabinet, a bed and a few other things that were standard to any self-respecting bedroom. There was nothing special to it, besides the fact that it had those things. Usually a slave could barely count for a hovel, at least in the transitional phase.

"We will stay here one day and then move."

 

[Dante Sotari]

She'd followed in silence, but he would find she did most things in silence unless given reason to speak. Dark blue gaze drifted around the room for only a moment, but that neutral expression never changed.

Echo had been 'kept' in a wide variety of.... situations. From sleeping on the floor in the corner of a room with a dozen other slaves, to a room that would rival the bedchamber of royalty. The later had been only one case, and it hadn't be her room, it had been her masters and he simply appreciated having her near at hand. But this, like all of the others, barely impacted on the surface of her experience. While she could appreciate the simple comfort, she knew it wasn't personal. It had, ultimately, nothing to do with her.

She heard the 'we' and simply assumed.

It was, after all, why every single person had purchased her in the past.

There wasn't hesitation or shame. Indeed, the expression on her face never shifted.

She shrugged casually out of the simple robe she had been wearing.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Echoes"]

The silence was good, it was the way Xian liked it for the most part.

He didn't enjoy talking and words usually invited more in their wake, but once he finished his words and turned around to seeing her like... that? A frown was already in place. Even if the Twi'lek probably should have expected it, the frown shifting his neutral expression wasn't suppressed.

"No, cover yourself up." Two fingers flicking up to signify she should pick up her clothes again. "We will share a bed, but only once you want it yourself."

If she bothered to feel out his feelings she would feel the truth there.

There was attraction, yes, but also distinct displeasure at the thought she had been expressing through actions. There were reasons for this, of course. Not simply because Xian believed he didn't need to coerce women for sex and other acts. But any other reasons were his own and would not be simply shared.

"I sleep across the hall, let me know if you need anything."

With that Valart brushed past her and left her alone in the room.

 

[Dante Sotari]

She did as he asks- partly because it was automatic, but also to hide the slight flush of embaressed violet that flickered over her face. She pulled the robe closed tightly again, just nodding and then he was gone and she was left with a pit-of-her-stomach discomfort that she was not accustomed to.

Slowly she sunk down on the edge of the bed, letting the uncomfortable frown out.

He'd been sincere, honest, she hadn't needed telepathy to pick that up. But she was left feeling far more vulnerable by that dismissal than she would have been if he had..... well, simply acted like every other owner. From the beginning he had kept her off balance in small ways, but this....

Until I want- that's not how this works.

The thing that had kept her safe all these years was her ability to discover what was wanted, needed of her, and to act accordingly. Beyond the kernel of self she kept safe in her core, she allowed her owner's preferences and desires to fill all other parts of her. In most cases, literally. And the one constant in keeping them mollified and 'safe' was that certain things were simply their due.

So to have him not take that was very unbalancing indeed.

Hurt her feelings? Not particularly. But it confused her, and set him into a category of people who she could not fully understand because she had no experience with it.

And people who could not be understood were innately dangerous.

Slowly, she lowered herself down onto the bed, watching the door. It took longer than it should have for sleep to take her.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Echoes"]

Xian had no issue sleeping and woke early in the morning once again.

Stretching, bending, relaxing as the sun (rays filtering through the window) warmed his skin during the morning exercises. After that the slaver did not bother Echo - partially because he needed her completely at rest and energetic, but partially because he didn't really like being bothered during his morning routine. Checking his missives, exercises, eating, training, they were all activities better done alone without a constant presence shadowing him by the shoulder. When Echo did wake she would find him in the living room, a disassembled blaster rifle spread out over the table and Xian being fairly busy cleaning out the little parts. It was cathartic, kept him calm and focused.

Once she entered he'd briefly look up, watch her for a moment before grunting and returning to his work.

For some reason she annoyed him, but it was the annoyance he felt for most slaves. It reminded him mildly of a distant self - which was why Valart rarely kept any slaves. Instead opting to sell them off as quickly as possible and inning the profits.

"Food's in the fringe." He finally responded without glancing over at her. "Take what you need, we will be leaving in a few hours."

He wanted to test her out.

But Valart wasn't sure she was capable of doing the things he needed right now. If Echo wouldn't shatter at the first moment of stress and opposition. If she wouldn't just bend, like every slave did when presented with difficulty.

"What skills do you have? Do you know how to fight? How quickly can you change from one face to another?" Once she was back or if she never left anyway.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Echo hadn't slept particularly well. But that wasn't new. Every sound, every creak brought her to the edge of consciousness, waiting to see if she was required. It wasn't simply a factor of the newness of the situation, the strangeness of it, but simply years of programing. She was a light sleeper at best, and adding in those factors made it even more noticable than usual.

She stepped into the room not long after he had settled down. A shape shifter could look refreshed and well rested whether it was true or not, and Echo took full advantage of that. In fairness, she wasn't any less well rested than usual. Though he hadn't woken her up, the sounds of him moving around the house had been enough to make more sleep impossible. Quiet, where others were not stirring, was the only time it was safe to sleep.

The annoyance on the surface of his mind was the first thing she found when she went casually brushing past, again, habit. She didn't know what she had done to irritate him- had it been last night? Had she not anticipated something he thought she should have? Or was he simply regretting the investment?

It didn't help with the unsettled feeling, and she found herself needing to consciously unclench her teeth as she moved about the small kitchen, gathering a small breakfast for herself a minute later. Fruit, breakfast meat, water. She ate in there, standing at a counter and going over a thousand ways she might have irritated him, and ultimately, having no idea which of them it had been.

It meant that she was just going to have to be even more aware- and she wasn't sure she knew just how to do that.

Stepping back into the room, she stopped when he spoke to her, hands coming in front of her to clasp together.

"I cannot fight, no," she said, answering the easiest part first. She paused for a moment, considering, both his question and the sensation of intent. He was not looking for the skills other masters has specifically looked for first, at least. "I am a quick learner, however. I speak fourteen languages, and the etiquette required with those cultures. I can listen, and remember. I can disappear into the background, or distract as a situation requires. I can usually read what someone wants or requires, and adapt. I can change faces in as little as a few seconds, if the differences are superficial. The more different a form is from the one I am wearing, the longer the transformation takes. I can mimic most species I have seen, limited only within a range from the very smallest to slightly less than twice my size. The smallest I form I have tried to take was a Chadra-Fan. The largest was a Wookiee."

She did not ramble or elaborate unnecessarily, but she gave him the detailed answers she could sense he was looking for. Perhaps he would be disappointed by them, but she neither inflated her skills nor demurred upon them.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Arage Bao]

It made him wonder why she never shifted into a Wook.... rip and tear until she was free of bondage.

"Do you have any issues with hurting people? Killing?" It wasn't necessary. Strictly speaking, but it would certainly make things easier for the both of them if Echo didn't freeze up in the middle of cutting someone's throat. It would get even messier then. More dangerous too, if she wasn't focused in the thick of it. That could get her killed and that wasn't something Xian wanted to see. At least not until his investment in her had been paid off in some exponential degree. In the meantime his hands were working, eyes unseeing, but the method done so many times over that it wasn't a prerequisite anymore.

Her previous owners lacked ambition.

Buying her as some sort of... prop, a thing to use a couple of times, until the nouveau riche sense had worn off and left them wanting for other toys. But Xian saw the potential here.

"Would you like to be more than just a set-piece for cruel and powerful men?"

The question: genuine.

Because the potential was unlimited. Already his mind was running over of the things they could do together - the people they would murder, the places they would take, the riches assembled. Valart had never had much in the way of empathy; go through the grind for enough years, change hands enough times, be reduced to the most basic of instincts (survival, safety).... and nothing else mattered.

It was why it was so easy to cut that old part out of him, lock it away and do exactly what had been done to him.

Without any trouble, hassle or contrarian feelings. It was selfishness incarnated, but it felt good not to care and it felt good to be on top. No, this was only the start.

With her?

This was the beginning to true power.