HOME | DD

Description
+8 AP to chianti [+1 hs, +1 shading +3 full bg +1 scb +2 680 words (250 x2)]
-
"there's gotta be a reason
that i'm here on earth
gotta be a reason
for the dust and the dirt
the changing of the seasons
never changed my hurt
so what's it worth
what's it worth?"

Chianti stared ahead of her, jaw still flexing with the foreign feeling of the cold iron bit resting on her tongue. The worn down buildings, soaked streets filled with grief was enough to tell her that she had made it. The Dark District. But she was not unaccustomed to this feeling, the feeling of homelessness, of dread that washed over her when she saw the conditions of the others around her.
The chevalier had put a collar on her, clipped to her bridle to keep her as contained as possible. After slipping off the headpiece more than once in her attempts to escape, they had upped their game. She was, officially, enslaved. The scoundrel's eyes watered at the thought. At least on the streets, she had her freedom. She could laugh and play, move where and when she wished. There was no schedule, no rules.

Her branding was a good example of the wrath she could put upon her capturers. At the sight of the red hot iron, she was kicking and screaming. "I am a child of Ignacio!" she cried, flinging her body into the nearest guard. She quickly hooked her bridle onto a corner, anything she could use to rip the thing off. "I am not a slave! I am of Aodhian blood, I was born freely in the streets of Valore!" Tears stained her pangare coat, her throat raw from screaming for so long.
"Somebody shut her up!" a strong voice shouted over her cries. She had managed to slip the bridle off passed her ears, enabling her teke for just a moment. She flung the branding rod away from her, turning viciously toward the stallion who had been holding it.
But her moment of victory lasted only seconds, as she was wrestled back to the ground and shackled around the neck. Her bridle was clipped back on, wrapped tightly to keep her from screaming out again. They called her crazy, muttering under their breath as they lifted the heated metal again. Chianti braced herself, and as the pain came she was unable to wail out. Pressed against her shoulder, the smell of burning flesh filled her nose.

In the district, stored away from the rest of Aodh, Chianti had quickly befriended the inhabitants, unlike many of the ex-servile slaves and other enriched few that had been caught in the crossfire. She was accustomed to the rough and rowdy life, swiftly growing attached to the labor slaves. Children shared songs, raced with her, and the adults told their tales and their tricks of the trade. Chianti could forget for a moment that she was in such an awful place, until the morning sun arose and she was sent off to... labor.
But when she was left alone to rest, she rested happily with the family she had so quickly made with the other labor slaves. After a week, she met her first death. An older worker who had collapsed a few days prior had finally passed, and the district grew silent in mourning. They dipped their heads, leaving small flowers over the body of the loved one. But she had braced herself, and found herself growing more attached to her fellow slaves.

Then she was picked up.
Seen working on the streets, the flashy mare was quickly spotted by a wealthy commoner as she was tirelessly delivering heavy material to a shopkeeper a few streets down. Chianti thought nothing of it, until the chevaliers approached her the next day during their daily ration-eating. She was to leave, be placed as a servile slave under Jasmine while King Isador allowed it.
The thought left a sour taste on her tongue, and of course Chianti fought again. She had lost her family once, and wasn't about to lose another. Crying out towards the ones she had come to call her friends, Chianti was dragged away. There was no more joy for her. She had reached the lowest low. She was a plaything, a toy for someone else to dress up.

But she was going to survive. She had to.

Description
+8 AP to chianti [+1 hs, +1 shading +3 full bg +1 scb +2 680 words (250 x2)]
-
"there's gotta be a reason
that i'm here on earth
gotta be a reason
for the dust and the dirt
the changing of the seasons
never changed my hurt
so what's it worth
what's it worth?"

Chianti stared ahead of her, jaw still flexing with the foreign feeling of the cold iron bit resting on her tongue. The worn down buildings, soaked streets filled with grief was enough to tell her that she had made it. The Dark District. But she was not unaccustomed to this feeling, the feeling of homelessness, of dread that washed over her when she saw the conditions of the others around her.
The chevalier had put a collar on her, clipped to her bridle to keep her as contained as possible. After slipping off the headpiece more than once in her attempts to escape, they had upped their game. She was, officially, enslaved. The scoundrel's eyes watered at the thought. At least on the streets, she had her freedom. She could laugh and play, move where and when she wished. There was no schedule, no rules.

Her branding was a good example of the wrath she could put upon her capturers. At the sight of the red hot iron, she was kicking and screaming. "I am a child of Ignacio!" she cried, flinging her body into the nearest guard. She quickly hooked her bridle onto a corner, anything she could use to rip the thing off. "I am not a slave! I am of Aodhian blood, I was born freely in the streets of Valore!" Tears stained her pangare coat, her throat raw from screaming for so long.
"Somebody shut her up!" a strong voice shouted over her cries. She had managed to slip the bridle off passed her ears, enabling her teke for just a moment. She flung the branding rod away from her, turning viciously toward the stallion who had been holding it.
But her moment of victory lasted only seconds, as she was wrestled back to the ground and shackled around the neck. Her bridle was clipped back on, wrapped tightly to keep her from screaming out again. They called her crazy, muttering under their breath as they lifted the heated metal again. Chianti braced herself, and as the pain came she was unable to wail out. Pressed against her shoulder, the smell of burning flesh filled her nose.

In the district, stored away from the rest of Aodh, Chianti had quickly befriended the inhabitants, unlike many of the ex-servile slaves and other enriched few that had been caught in the crossfire. She was accustomed to the rough and rowdy life, swiftly growing attached to the labor slaves. Children shared songs, raced with her, and the adults told their tales and their tricks of the trade. Chianti could forget for a moment that she was in such an awful place, until the morning sun arose and she was sent off to... labor.
But when she was left alone to rest, she rested happily with the family she had so quickly made with the other labor slaves. After a week, she met her first death. An older worker who had collapsed a few days prior had finally passed, and the district grew silent in mourning. They dipped their heads, leaving small flowers over the body of the loved one. But she had braced herself, and found herself growing more attached to her fellow slaves.

Then she was picked up.
Seen working on the streets, the flashy mare was quickly spotted by a wealthy commoner as she was tirelessly delivering heavy material to a shopkeeper a few streets down. Chianti thought nothing of it, until the chevaliers approached her the next day during their daily ration-eating. She was to leave, be placed as a servile slave under Jasmine while King Isador allowed it.
The thought left a sour taste on her tongue, and of course Chianti fought again. She had lost her family once, and wasn't about to lose another. Crying out towards the ones she had come to call her friends, Chianti was dragged away. There was no more joy for her. She had reached the lowest low. She was a plaything, a toy for someone else to dress up.

But she was going to survive. She had to.