It’s a spectacle, a crowd of people have come to see us. Families with their little ones sat down to see us perform. While the buyers had elevated seating for them to see us displayed. This show just makes this seem less horrible than it is, a slave auction.
The headmaster walks onto the stage, grinning and smiling at the audience. Bellowing out in a loud and clear voice , “Welcome one and all! We have an excellent line of acts available for you today! I hope they inspire you, even a special one that catches your eye.” He held out the last part with a pause to make this seem grander than it was. Him selling humans on a rickety stage on the outskirts of town with the sun glaring down upon us. “To start! I would like to introduce our first act; she hails from the outskirts of Nial’an. Known for her art of embroidery and knowledge of the plants around her. Where she will grace us with her skill of flower arranging.” Out walks a small girl, the age of thirteen. Her hair is loosely pinned behind her ears. She sets herself down onto a pillow and is presented with an assortment of flowers, leaves, and twigs. Throughout the performance, the buyers could tell this was a recently taught skill by the Auctioneers. Her movement of her hands were rough. Only slight moments of grace showed in her performance. This is commonly done by the girls that are traded or stolen. They quickly teach them a skill; flower arranging, a folk dance, song, or play a simple flute. Sometimes, in desperation they teach them how to curtsy and read a short poem.
The crowd kindly applauds at the end of the performance. Yet by the buyer’s point of view they were far from amused. This goes on for the next three performances; a folk song performed with an out of pitched voice, and two dances that were unrefined. I watch silently as the crowd is losing interest. The Headmaster can tell and it was something that he was intending. Forcing the buyers to see all the products, hoping that they might be looking for another servant.
“Now, I have a special performance for one and all. She comes from a region known as the Enclaves. Full of mystery and wonder. Coming from a line of healers. Bearing the wisdom of her ancestors, she has been taught arithmetic and is a lady of the world. All that would be desired of a bride and more. I present to you the dance of the Enclaves!” Out walks the girl with the tattooed hands. She is wearing a dancer’s attire, loose and sheer bottoms tapered with an elaborate embroidered design. Gold jewelry is woven throughout her dark brown hair. The bottom half of her face is covered which forced the audience to be captivated by her almond shaped eyes. She demanded attention from the buyers. Admitting, her dancing was something to be desired. She was graceful, spinning a tale that words could do no justice for. Her tattooed hands embellished the dance, her own props. Telling the story of how the sun died for the moon. The end of her dance caused an uproar of applause; the crowd loved the performance and the buyers were now fully invested.
A few more performances went on but, none topped the performance of how the sun died for the moon. The crowd had remained waiting to see the final act. “Now, I have one last performance to show. She comes from a strong military lineage who have been generals and war heroes. Her ancestry comes from the line of Arkthan the hero of Jelle.” This announcement caused quite a stir among the buyers, having a lineage from a war hero is desired. This could bring a buyer’s household status. The Headmaster continues, “Even with her strong military lineage she has the beauty and grace that could even surpass the goddess Athena. I present to you, the Exotic.” His presentation was far-fetched, as he lowered his head I was scurried onto the stage.
There I stood with my priestess costume; cloth draped over my left shoulder with a pin of clashing swords holding the dress together. I wore white to represent pureness but, I can’t see what can be pure with this dress exposing so much of my legs. My dirty crimson hair was tied up in a ponytail. I didn’t get to be so lucky and have my face covered like last time. The Auctioneers wanted me gone, they are hoping that my face showing it would be easier for me to be identified if I try to make a run for it. Which seems silly, my red hair stood out more than enough.
I held a twirling ribbon in my hand, a prop for the grand show they were about to start. My wrists were still sore; hidden by leather greaves that decorated my arm. No one can tell that I am a damage product. I am being presented as the warrior goddess, Athena herself.
The Headmaster began banging a drum, creating a steady beat to go with the pace of the performance. I started with simple twirls while eyeing out to the crowd for an opening. There was no one from the crowd that I could see taking advantage of. I continued with my performance; kicking my leg upwards to cause a full circle effect tracing the ribbon. I became more elaborate with my motions which meant I can slow down and get a better look of the buyers in the seats. To my surprise I noticed that there were more than just merchants and herders in the stands. There were also military personnel. Their scarabs flashed as a showy display of their wealth. They’re not paying attention to their surroundings. Seeming to have lost interest in the spectacle. The older of the group was making his way out of the stands. Maybe fate is smiling upon me today.
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