Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave
Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.
“Most of us are desperate to be free. We seize it and run. Or beg.” She ran her fingers through her short hair.
“You’re passive.” It made it hard /not/ to treat him as a slave. Autumn figured he was testing them, waiting to see if they kept their word. Summer was afraid he was too broken to be saved. They had those sometimes.
It usually took Summer a week to recover from what she saw as failure.
“I’m observative,” he corrected. It wasn’t much of a correction. He took in what was happening, and if he didn’t see an opportunity he wanted to take, he would wait. That would give off the passive air.
“I get tired of running. I’ve been running. My whole life. Begging? Never got me anything. Got me tortured more often than not. No begging. Observing. Taking it in. Exploring for myself. And not approaching me with ‘You’re kinda free but you’re going to want to work for me, that or you get to go figure out how to live on your own after nearly 15 years in a slave market kay have fun’.” He had sunk down slowly against the wall until he was sitting, legs straight out in front of him. This day, as short as it had been, had already taken it all out of him.
“You’ve enough spirit to snarl, but not take care of yourself.” Autumn leaned against the doorframe, watching him slump. “What do you want?”