(no subject)

[sunstormed]

Escape


When he first awoke, he was alone. Atal'Sul sat up and stretched, opening green eyes to look about his master's room and paused as he noticed that his master was nowhere to be found. He had been with him for months, and short of being allowed scant moments to himself for hygiene (and even then he was often followed by E'chuta), the Elf was never left to his own devices like this. It frightened him at first, and he carefully slipped from the mounds of blankets and pillows that formed the nest he and Sul'rohk shared. Still, there was no sound, and atal'Sul wondered just what had happened to cause the other to leave without taking him along. He was still collared of course. Still pierced and gilded with jewelry that would never be removed, but the chain that was normally wrapped tight about Sul's thick fist was gone.

For whatever reason, the Troll had left him to his own devices and atal'Sul decided to take the offering presented to him. There was no clothing save for a length of tanned cloth that he quickly threw about his shoulders. It did little to hide his nudity, but it was better than nothing. He moved quickly, slipping across the room and out the door, cringing at the slightest noise for fear of being discovered. The temple was empty, devoid of life and undeath in a surreal moment of quiet that he had never laid eyes on in his time trapped there. For atal'Sul it was a sign. He skirted quickly down the pathway, cringing at every shadow in the dim temple. Outside, the sun beat down on the golden sands and he bit back a soft hiss at the feeling of the heat seeping over his feet and between his toes. If he made it out of Zul'Farrak alive he could worry about treatment then.

The hottest point of the day was a time of rest, generally. Those who could, those who had the standing to would sleep for an hour or two, until the late afternoon chores called to them and day bled into night, bringing bitter, icy wind with it. The Elf had no idea what he would do for warmth or protection from the elements, but that was a hurdle that he was determined to cross once he reached it. For now he had to escape, to get away. Sul's temple home sat far back from the city gates; he was fairly certain of that. But if he could hide and move a bit at a time...

Atal'Sul was patient. Carefully he picked his way forward, crouching for a moment behind a large basket filled with spices. He was afraid - afraid of being caught, afraid of making it to an unknown escape through the deserts of Tanaris to civilization. But even through fear, he was determined. So it was with care that he picked his way across the hot sands, skirting behind leather and cloth tents and attempting to look like nothing special or worth attention. He failed in that regard, covered as he was in precious jewelry, but thus far he felt he had managed to avoid detection. With every step victory seemed to become just a touch more real to him. He stopped often, ducking down to avoid weary slaves or passing citizens of the village on their way home or to market. The sights and the sounds of the village were almost foreign to the Elf after so long kept cloistered at Sul's side. It was hard to focus on any one thing, which in part led to his trouble

The walls he was skirting dropped away, and the former mage ducked around them quickly, intent on avoiding catching anyone's eye. Unfortunately, the Troll on the other side of the wall took offense to the scant weight of the elf as he slammed into his back. With a snarl, the warrior grabbed the frightened Elf by the arm, squeezing so hard atal'Sul worried that he would break it in his rage.

"De fel joo doin' slave?" he growled, wrenching his hand down, forcing the Elf to come closer until he was pressed close against him. In the struggle his borrowed covering fell away, leaving him bare save for a scant bit of white cloth meant more for decoration than modesty. Cruel brown eyes roamed over the lithe body with interest and atal'Sul realized suddenly that this must not be a Farraki from the city itself. They would know him immediately as Sul'rohk's property, if not by the riches adorning his body than from the carefully-applied tattoo marking his back. But this troll seemed oblivious ...or stupid. Desperately, he attempted to tug himself free, only to let out a yelp as his arm was once more squeezed, keeping him too close for comfort. With his free hand, the troll roughly pushed his hair back, admiring the gold in his ears, on his lip, letting his eyes wander down to the rings adorning his nipples and belly button. His grin grew colder and atal'Sul let out a cry as he was roughly pushed against the wall he had so desperately been intent on hiding against. "Pity someboddeh didn't take bettah care of dere toy. Joo worth a pretteh price wit' all dat gold." He leaned closer, until the Elf could smell the rotten meat on his breath, laving his tongue over his cheek.

"I be Ad'jo little bird. Could fuck joo. Could kill joo and leave de corpse for de vultures. Take all dis pretty gold and sell it..." he mused aloud, grinning wide at the fear in the Sin'dorei's eyes. He groped at his loincloth, ripping the fine, sheer fabric. At that, something snapped inside the former mage and while he couldn't cast, he still had his elegant little talons - and served them well by ripping at the warrior's arm and kicking - aiming without mercy for the Troll's groin. The warrior - Ad'jo gave a grunt of pain, drawing a and back and slapping the elf with a single, loud crack that made him stop struggling altogether. "Joo little bitch. Coulda been nice, butchu ain't worth more den de feed you gonna be for de vultures when I'm done wit'chu." Eyes brimming with tears, the Elf began to rapidly protest in Zandali, even as he tried in vain to back away, holding his cheek with his free hand, hiding the reddening mark there. Unbeknownst to them however, it seemed as if the very world around them had almost ...stopped. The very air grew quiet as if waiting, and when the Elf dared peek through watery eyes around the stranger who held him captive, he saw the hulking form of Sul'rohk approaching. Normally, the sight of the other - his master, made his stomach drop with fear, but today... today he reached for him, strained for him like a frightened, sobbing child.

"Master! Master help me, please!" and it seemed that perhaps the mercenary finally caught on to what precisely he was toying with. He unceremoniously dropped the Elf, who pressed himself into the corner of the wall, making himself as small as possible while the Trolls stared one another down. Sul'rohk's face was outwardly impassive, but the glint in his golden eyes was one of cold fury. He spared atal'Sul a single glance, noting the redness that he tried to hide and the impassive look turned black. He raised his hands, murmuring a prayer to Mueh'zalah and the warrior began to walk forward.

"Didn't know he was alreadeh taken, mon. Should take bettah care of your slaves-" his words, laced with confidence died in his throat as he abruptly stopped moving altogether, staring down. The stands that blanketed Tanaris held a thousand secrets, and one of them seemed to be the undead at Sul's beck and call. Mummified hands grasped powerful legs, inching upwards steadily. Ad'jo wrenched himself from side to side, reaching for his sword - but the Elf managed a kick at his hand, sending the blade flying, sinking beneath the churning sand. Now confidence and anger were replaced with terror as he realized just who he faced and what he had almost stolen from the scorpid's bite.

"Take him to de temple. Leave him alive." he murmured coldly and the hands became arms as the mummified slaves pulled themselves from the sand as if it were water, carrying the now-terrified wretch away.

Atal'Sul waited then, trembling as Sul came towards him. He was still cringing, whimpering apologies in fear that he would be next. Instead, powerful, rough hands gathered him up as if he weighed no more than a feather, carrying him back towards the temple. He was silent, and atal'Sul was afraid, sniffling as he attempted to hold back tears of pain and lost chances and confusion. Sul did not speak until they were once more ensconced within his home, setting the Elf down on a cushion so that he could check him over for wounds. Sand-burned fear and a bruise ...nothing terrible, though the bruise annoyed him. Still, there were ways to work this into an advantage yet, so he remained patient instead of angry.

"Didjoo learn your lesson, atal'Sul?" he asked quietly, dipping his fingers into a lightly-scented salve, carefully rubbing it into his cheek with the tips of his thick fingers. The Sin'dorei nodded in defeat, unable to fight the tears brimming in his eyes once more. Before he could say a word he was tugged into Sul's arms once more as he carried his pet to his throne, where he settled himself with atal'Sul on his lap. "I be de one who protect joo, atal'Sul. I be de one who make joo beautiful and keep you safe. Dere be notin' but death out dere and it ain't your time yet." the threat was subtle, carefully laced into his words of kindness and they seemed to carry the desired effect. Once settled, atal'Sul wrapped an arm about Sul's neck, resting his head against his shoulder. The other hand, so delicate and pale - carefully wrapped about a thick, black tusk, and Sul was pleased at the affectionate touch, feeling smug and powerful as he allowed the pretty Elf to rest in his arms, to feel safety after a day of danger. It had been an interesting game, watching the Elf attempt escape from afar, and he had never been in any real danger, but ...atal'Sul didn't need to know that.

All he needed to know was that his master was his world, and it seemed that while he was still not perhaps broken, he did indeed know whom to devote himself to.