• Mature • Standing where the grass is always greener

Tristan and Faith meet in the university.

50th of Ymiden 716

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Standing where the grass is always greener

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50th Ymiden, 716


It had been a few trials since she had met a man called Malcolm in the park. He had spoken to her about the university and what it did and she had felt, momentarily, that she wanted to be able to attend the place, to take some lessons. Jamal had not been happy about that and they had discussed it at some length. He had made sure that she then spent some trials remembering her place in the world and her servitude to him and to Famula. But now, Jamal had told her that it was time for her to actually go to the university and to speak to people there. To find out about them and what they had done and to remind herself of what she was not and never would be entitled to or worthy of.

So, on this trial she made her way to the university. She was wearing the old and worn black trousers that she had worn for a number of trials, since Jamal had let her out into the city, and the strapless blac top which was in an equal state of disrepair. Her long black hair was tied back so that both of her slave brands were clearly showing. The brand on her shoulder was old, pale and stretched as she had grown from when she received it as an infant. The brand on her neck, however, was a lot newer, freshly healed over but still very noticeable. She had been given specific instructions on what she was to do, so she looked around to see if she could catch sight of anyone who might speak to her, who seemed to be willing to maybe spend some time talking.

As she looked, her gaze landed on a man who seemed to fit the bill she had been given, and so she approached him and spoke. Her voice was quiet and hushed, as though she were speaking in a library, perhaps. "Good trial. I am Faith. Are you taking a class here?" she asked, meekly.
Last edited by Faith Augustin Champion on Sat Jun 09, 2018 4:37 pm, edited 4 times in total. word count: 345
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Tristan had never thought he would return to the university, but here he was, walking up to the very building he had thought he had left behind for good an arc before. He was about to do something he had never imagined he would do, he was going to ask one of his former professors for career advice and possibly a few private lessons as his rise to fame was much too slow for his taste, and he still had to exhibit his works of art anywhere.

The young noble was normally a very eccentric man, but the professor was old and somewhat conservative, so he had reluctantly decided to tone things down and was dressed in a fine black suit, the very same suit he had worn for the reunion with his least favorite aunt in all of Idalos, Baroness Willow Venora who was just as particular about etiquette as the good professor. He had also tucked a few rolled up sketches under his right arm.

Despite his relative lack of commercial success he walked with his head held high. He felt quite superior to the young men and women around him because they hadn’t even graduated yet!

He didn’t notice Faith at first because her voice was so quiet and hushed and he was so busy thinking about his superiority and his meeting with the professor. He had already walked past her when he realized that there might have been somebody, so he spun around and smiled at her somewhat apologetically before he said, "No, I’m not taking a class here, but I used to be a student, so if there’s anything you’d like to ask me, feel free. Are you a …?"

He stopped in mid-sentence as he took a closer look at her and noticed the brand on her neck and proceeded to answer the question himself. "No, you probably aren’t a student unless you have a very unusual master, but still, I’m always willing to help a woman in need. I’m Tristan Venora."

"Nice outfit by the way", he added as it occurred to him that they were both wearing black. "We match."
Last edited by Tristan Venora on Tue Jul 05, 2016 5:37 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 366
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The man that she spoke to walked past her and did not answer. Faith sighed inwardly but showed no outward sign of anything, simply assuming that he had decided to not speak to her because she was beneath him. On reflection, she probably shouldn't have chosen him because he looked very proud of himself (which of course he might well have every right to be) and also like he was very busy moving from one place to another. It had been her mistake and she was already looking around for someone else that she could speak to when her first choice spun on his heel and he smiled at her. His response was kind, and then he saw the brand.

And his response was still kind, which was rather unusual as far as she was concerned. "No, master, I am not a student." she said with a smile. His comment on her outfit, which was ragged and in an obvious state of being very old, and his, which was obviously expensive gave her a moment's pause. Was she supposed to agree with that? Or was he mocking her? She did not know but she was very sure that they did not match in anything but colour. So, she spoke what she saw as the truth, as she always did. "Yes, master, they do. Both outfits serve to demonstrate our station and to provide a prompt for others in how to respond to us. And they are both black" she said, her voice continuing in the hushed tone that she had spoken in earlier. She did not seem to be being difficult or to be concerned with that situation; it was what it was and she was content with it.

But in terms of what she had spoken to him for, she looked up at him with her silver-grey eyes and a very earnest expression on her face "My owner has instructed me to find out about life in the university, master, to learn of what it is like to be allowed, encouraged or even expected to attend classes and talks. I wondered if you would help me in this?" she asked, softly. Jamal had been clear in his instructions to her and he would not be happy at all if she got back without a full report to give him. So, she very much hoped that she could rely on the kindness of a stranger in a good suit.
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"I’m not your master which is a pity as I’d really like to have my own slave", Tristan replied and sighed a little. He’d always envied his relatives in this regard. A slave would come in handy when it came to getting his sculptures which often tended to be on the heavy side to his customers. "Just call me Lord Tristan, if you want to use some sort of title. And who are you? I’d really like to call you something other than 'slave', even though that’s what you are because, as I said before, you are not my slave."

He had spoken very quickly and hardly stopped to take a breath between his sentences, and before she had a chance to reply, he continued, smiling slightly as he did so, "As for your claim that our outfits serve to demonstrate our station and so on, what if I told you that I’m a thief or worse and that I’ve stolen this fine suit here so that I can get into the university unnoticed and take their most precious books in order to sell them on the black market? What if I’ve never really been a student here?"

"Don't trust everything you see. Even salt looks like sugar",
he added, quite proud of himself because he had remembered that saying. Unlike Faith he didn’t speak in a hushed tone. His voice was firm and full of confidence, and his bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he was quite enjoying himself despite the fact that he had an important meeting coming up.

"Sure, I can help you with that", he replied generously because the interaction with her had the potential to be quite interesting. "I have a few moments. I can’t help but wonder why your master told you to ask about this though. Does he want to study here?" he wanted to know, secretly thinking that it would have been better if the man had visited the university himself, but then again a lot of rich people were unfortunately rather lazy. So was Tristan, sometimes.

"Anyway, life in the university isn’t all about attending classes. In fact a lot of students stay away from classes and party and get drunk instead. I actually went to most of my classes though, so what do you want to know? It would be better if you asked me specific questions. Unless you want me to hold a lengthy monologue? If that is the case I’m happy to oblige as I quite like to hear myself talk."
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It was a pity because he'd like his own slave? Faith looked at him and a small smile lifted her lips as she wondered whether she was supposed to sympathise with his plight here or... what, really. He spoke quickly, not giving her a chance to respond but, when she was able to get a word in edgeways, she addressed each of his points one after the other "I am sure my owner would be happy to discuss the benefits, as well as the drawbacks and the different types of slave. It would, like any purchase, depend on what you wish to use your purchase for" she suggested. It made sense to her, one did not buy a paintbrush to put nails in a coffin, after all. "Yes, Lord Tristan, as you command" she responded, of his name, and of hers? "I apologise Lord Tristan. My name is Faith, although I have been instructed to call everyone master or mistress unless instructed otherwise and I respond to slave, it is what I am" she smiled at him. She was not, it seemed, at all put out by her status and she was quite clear that slave was what she was.

And on his assessment of their outfit, Faith considered carefully for a moment and then a smile lit her pale grey eyes "If you are a thief who has stolen that fine suit, then your mark was someone with exactly the same stature and body shape as you. And the outfits serve to differentiate us, still. I was assuming that you are a noble Lord or rich because of how good your suit is, but it differentiates us because it marks you as free, and mine marks me as property. The nature of your freedom or my ownership would be up for further, possibly lively, debate". Her tone remained hushed, but the young woman watched him with a lively twinkle of amusement in her eyes. He seemed to be someone who enjoyed a lively debate and he was not the sort who made her uncomfortable by pretending that she wasn't a slave in order to make himself feel better. That was just difficult in the extreme and was not true or how it was, so Faith much preferred the simple acceptance that she was who she was and he... well, the fact was that, whatever else he was, he was free.

"No, Lord Tristan, he told me to ask about it as I met someone some trials ago and he told me about the place. When I heard, I wanted to learn, wanted to attend classes and my owner was displeased at my response. This is the final stage of my punishment and a final reminder that I am not a person and have no free will" she said. When she explained that she was being disciplined, she did not seem at all offended or put out by such. Equally she didn't offer what the first stages of her punishment had been. "It was the attending classes that captured my imagination and caused me to feel things I have no right to feel. My owner wishes me to hear about it in as much detail as I can gather, so that I know what I will never be permitted to do. So perhaps a monologue would be appropriate, if it pleases you?" she asked, with a very genuine smile. That seemed to be a win-win situation for her - it gave her the detail that she had been instructed to get, and it meant that he got to do something he liked to do too.
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"It sounds as if your master knows a lot about slavery", Tristan remarked. "Does he happen to work at the slave market?" If he did, he thought, he would make an effort to treat Faith especially well. Maybe she’d tell her master about their meeting, and the man would sell him a slave for less than the normal price because he was such a nice person which would be a good thing since Tristan wasn’t particuarly rich despite the fact that he was of noble birth.

Tristan didn’t have a problem with Faith’s status either. In fact he approved of slavery wholeheartedly, quite unlike some of his peers, but that didn’t keep him from asking questions that most supporters of slavery would never ask a slave. "So do the other slaves call you 'slave' as well or do you actually address each other with your names?" He’d always been interested in how slaves treated each other when they were alone.

"It wouldn’t be too hard to find a man with the same stature as mine", he remarked and tugged at his suit as if he wanted to make sure that it did indeed fit correctly which it did of course since it had been custom-tailored. "My height is unfortunately quite mediocre as you have without a doubt already noticed. And good clothes aren’t always a sign that their wearer is free. You should see my cousin’s slave! He always wears those fancy pants, although he doesn’t seem to be too comfortable in them."

He furrowed his brow a little as he said that and remembered the way the poor man had tugged at his pants that had had the tendency to develop a bulge in the most awkward of places. He’d offered to buy Alaric new clothes, but for some reason he had refused.

His eyes widened a little as she revealed that she had been sent to the university as some form of punishment. "That is …", he began and stopped because he had a bit of trouble to find the right words to describe what he just felt and finally continued, somewhat lamely, " … quite creative and a little devious. I’m not sure if I would be able to come up with something like that. I have to disagree with your master in so far as you are not a person though."

"In my opinion a slave is a person as well, but a person that is owned by somebody else." He knew some people that would disagree, that considered slaves to be things, like their dinner table, but in his opinion that was just stupid. Everybody that had a pair of working eyes and at least half a brain could see that free people and slaves were a lot alike, the differences were in the details – that were very important details of course.

"Which classes did you want to attend?" he asked her. Her answer really interested him even though speaking of what she wanted but would never have would probably feel like torture to her. "And of course it pleases me. As I’ve already told you, I love to talk, especially about myself, although I would to ask you to carry these for me as they are rather unwieldy." He extended his large, rolled up sketches towards her, and then gave her a sign to walk besides him and launched into his monologue.

"First of all going to university is really, really expensive. I think my parents paid several thousand nels when they sent me there even though I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go there. Father wanted me to get a scholarship, but unfortunately they gave it to somebody who didn’t deserve it. I studied art, but there are a lot of other things you can study as well, even arcana which seems kind of interesting."

"People go to university for a lot of different reasons. Some go there because they don’t know what else to do and some go there because of the parties which are great of course. Those people usually fail their classes which mostly consist of sitting in a room and taking notes while the professor talks about this and that."

"Classes were different for me though because you can’t really learn sculpting without actually sculpting something, so I usually spent a lot of time in the workshop. And when I wasn’t in the workshop I …" At that point he started talking about all his misadventures that included a drunken night in the Blacksmith Arms with one of his professors before he finally stopped to take a breath because even he couldn’t talk without breathing forever and smiled at her.

"Do you want to know more?"
he then asked.
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"He does, yes" know a lot about slavery, that was "He used to work in Athart, where he worked with the slavers and trained slaves for them. He was a slaver for a while, but then he moved into undertaking. He has not worked as a slaver here, we have only been here for just over an arc." she explained. "But if you wish to know about how it all works, he will be more than happy to help you, I am sure." Jamal liked that kind of thing, he enjoyed speaking about the benefits of slavery to everyone "I can give you a slave's view only." she smiled, Jamal could give a much better perspective.

But he was interested in how they addressed each other and Faith considered it for a moment. "I... My experiences were not usual, Lord Tristan. From the time that I was born, I was treated more harshly and trained more punitively than any of the others. Rather than having all the slavers train me, I was trained by four slavers who worked with me, shaping me and training me" she shrugged slightly "The other slaves avoided me, in case they earned the same by association. But there, we were given names. Often a different name every trial. If there are two or more slaves under the ownership of one master, he might tell them what to call each other, or .. We have only what is given to us, and that includes our names" she shrugged slightly.

When he spoke about his cousin's slave wearing fancy pants, though, Faith looked at him and she could not help but smile. "Fancy pants wearing slave? I could not comment." she said with a glance at him that was purely mischief.

He was impressed by Jamal's punishment and she nodded her head in agreement of his assessment. It was indeed both clever and cruel at once, something that he was good at and which she accepted as her place in life. "I wanted to find out about history, the Immortals, politics... In truth, Lord Tristan, I wanted to find out everything I could about everything. I very much want to learn, even though it is not my place. Of course, Lord Tristan " she said, taking his sketches. She listened to his words, stepping alongside him and she nodded, committing all of it to memory. She looked at him and smiled when he asked if she wanted to know more, and she answered honestly, as she always did. "I believe that my owner would want me to know more, Lord Tristan, if you are happy to tell me. Certainly, it is working and having the desired effect" It was, indeed. She had never wanted anything more than she had, but right now she wanted to learn, to grow. There was a very real sense of longing in her to learn more, to serve better. "I believe that when my master sells me, he will inform my new owner of this lesson, so that they are best informed of how to train me" she shrugged slightly. "Please, Lord Tristan, yes. If you do not mind telling me more" she said, with what could only be described as a chirpy grin.
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"I’ve never been to Athart", Tristan admitted regretfully because it sounded like a really interesting place – as long as one managed to avoid being enslaved. "But I pretended to be some sort of undertaker once. I pranked my cousin’s slave and claimed that the bag I made him carry contained a corpse – or at least a part of one." He grinned as he remembered the look on Alaric’s face and shook his head before he returned to the conversation at hand. "I’d love to meet your master. He sounds like a fascinating man. Maybe we could also talk about dead bodies and what to do with them?"

As Faith talked about her training, he raised an eyebrow. "Why were you treated so harshly, if you don’t mind the question? Were you disobedient? Or did your parents do something that angered your master, and he punished you for it because he thought you were guilty by association? It seems a bit …" He paused for a moment as he looked for the right word. " … excessive. But then again, I don’t know a lot about training slaves. My family usually buy their slaves already trained so that they can get to work right away."

As she revealed that her master had often given her a different name every trial, he frowned because it didn’t make a lot of sense to him. "Why did he do that? And how did you manage to remember all those different names? If I had been in your place, I would just have given up. I would probably also have been whipped for being a bad slave. Did your master ever whip you? If he did, I may not like him after all as I’m against corporeal punishment and deliberately damaging slaves."

"Anyway", he continued because she wanted to know more about the university and he appreciated the opportunity to talk more. "I haven’t told you what you can study here besides sculpting yet which I should really amend because you can study a lot here. You can study politics, literature, medicine and even arcana. If I hadn’t been so busy with my arts studies, I would probably have taken up arcana as well even though – or because – a lot of people are suspicious of it. Imagine what you could do with it!"

His eyes shimmered brightly as he said that, and then he launched into yet another monologue and started listing several more academic subjects before he finally abruptly asked, "Why does your owner want to sell you? Is he not content with you? From what I’ve seen so far you are a good slave. If you were my slave, I would never get rid of you."
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She glanced at him and Faith's eyes twinkled with delight as she heard his words. "You pretended to be an undertaker to prank a slave? Lord Tristan, that is a cruel thing to do, a slave has no power over you or your prank." she said, earnestly but with a very real sense of amusement as she spoke. If he chose to prank a slave that was up to him, of course, but at the end of the trial? "A prank, especially a successful one, against an individual of equal status is more impressive than one against a slave. But.. That is a strange and funny thing to do" she said. But he wanted to meet Jamal? She nodded her head "I will introduce you if you wish it Lord Tristan. I can speak to you about what to do with dead bodies, I am trained in such. But he knows more of course" she wasn't sure whether he meant her or Jamal, so she made sure that he was fully in receipt of all the knowledge he needed.

When they talked about her training, Faith looked at him and shrugged "I do not know, Lord Tristan. I was never told. I was not disobedient, I have strived to be the best slave that I can be for as long as I remember. All I know about my parents is that they were not slaves, but there was never a sense that there was anything personal, Lord Tristan, no" She shrugged slightly, her expression entirely accepting as he spoke his opinion of her excessive training "It was what my owners believed I needed. I belonged to them and so it was their choice what they did with me. I have never understood why". His family usually bought their slaves pre-trained and frankly Faith thought that was a sensible thing to do; training a slave was a specific skill and not one that most people had.

But her name? Faith looked at him and listened to his question. Then, she slowly and carefully answered him. "It comes back to my owners' training, Lord Tristan. I am not a person, I am a belonging. People are given names, a slave owns nothing. All that I have is what my owner gives me, including my name. I am what my owner tells me to be" she looked at him and smiled, the thought of him giving up, being whipped. "Yes, Lord Tristan, I was whipped. My current owner has never whipped me, he prefers to torture me in ways that do not mark me. He believes that whipping a slave is like sawing a chair - it only makes it less efficient." she explained.

She listened carefully to his stories, nodding and asking questions now and then. She was able to ask questions that were insightful, and she had a quick mind. However, he suddenly abruptly asked her about Jamal's ownership of her and she considered it carefully, pausing before she answered. "His job, as he sees it, is to train me in preparation for my true owner to purchase me. He will not put me on a block to sell, or advertise me as for sale. But one trial, he believes, my owner will find me and purchase me from him. When that happens, he will travel to Athart where the next slave is waiting for him to finish her training" she smiled at him. And that, if she was his slave he would never get ride of her? Well, she said nothing on that but she kept her opinions firmly to herself.
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"I’m pretty sure that Alaric has some power over me", Tristan disagreed. "He belongs to my cousin Alistair who will be Duke Venora one day, and if he had run to his master and told him about what I had done to him, it could potentially have had dire consequences for me. Not that I would have minded. I like a good argument every once in a while."

He smiled a little as he said that. Tristan was far from some sort of masochist that craved being yelled at (or receive various other forms of punishment), but really, life would be boring if things always went your way and nobody ever disagreed with you and criticized you. What person in their right mind could possibly want that?

"Next time I’ll prank the man himself though. I’m already looking forward to his reaction. As for dead bodies …" His eyes suddenly lit up in a most suspicious manner. "… do you know if there actually are people that buy them? I pretended that the non-existent dead body in the bag I gave my cousin’s slave was for a man in the village, and he seemed to believe that, but I’m not sure if such men really exist."

He looked at Faith expectantly as he waited for her answer. Her master was an undertaker, and she was trained in such as well, so she would surely know whether there was a market for the deceased, wouldn’t she? He wanted to perfect his pranks, and for that he needed the help of somebody who was a little more knowledgeable regarding certain topics than he was, otherwise somebody would eventually see through his lies.

As Faith claimed that she had never been disobedient, Tristan stared at her incredulously. "Not once?" he wanted to know. "Not even a little bit? Your life must be pretty boring then. I’m disobedient all the time." He couldn’t imagine saying yes to everything and everybody and always trying to please those that were above him. He’d probably end up hating himself for being such a good and thoroughly uninteresting person. "So …" he continued. "… if your owner told you to jump, you’d jump? And if he wanted you to pretend to be an Yludih for a trial, you’d do so and not ask any questions?"

He’d hate to be in Faith’s place, but on the other hand owning a slave that always obeyed, had potential. Such a slave would come in handy when he played one of his pranks. He could also dress the slave up in fancy clothes and take them with him and brag about how rich he was because he could afford such a high quality slave (even though he wasn’t particularly rich at all).

"I could buy you", he suggested only half in jest even though he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to put a slave (his apartment only had one room, and he didn’t want her to have to sleep on the floor, on the kitchen table or in his wardrobe). "I could use an undertaker. Imagine all the things we could do together!"
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