Fenris stared down at his hands. White lines... were they normal to have? They were fresh and even without joining the other slaves in the rigorous training he knew he would be taking part in soon, the skin broke easily and bled profusely. More trips to the damn apothecary, more scolding from master. He focused his gaze out to the courtyard; the bench he sat on gave perfect view of the two slaves currently fighting.
He had a name. Fenris. Outside of that, all he knew was the swing of a sword, the feeling of cold steel and warm blood against flesh, the crunching of bone and the screams that followed. He observed all of those things now, watching the warrior that seemed to be prevailing intently. Studying his moves. Left, right, left, and left again- throwing the opponent off of the rhythm he had stuck to the last time they clashed together in the dirt court.
A sharp whistle caused Fenris to spin his head in its direction. A robed man with a thick, greying beard. Danarius. Master.
Fenris stood quickly, feeling the tug of his healing flesh as he lurched from the bench. He suppressed the yelp the pain tried to force from him successfully though the sting of his brands lingered.
"Did I give you permission to stand, my pet?" Danarius' purred in his all too soothing voice.
"No, master." Fenris was confused.
"Then why did you?" the magister stepped closer to his slave.
"I thought that was what you would wish of me." his emerald eyes met the ground, watching the robes brush stone as Danarius came within a few feet of him.
"Ah, and there's the mistake. Look at me."
Fenris hesitated. He was forbidden to look directly at his master. He had already done it before his stand and was lucky to have it overlooked; though unfortunate enough for it to have been discarded for a greater offense in Danarius' eyes.
"Look at me." the gentleness of the magister's tone faltered and Fenris' shot his eyes up quickly, as if bitten by the snarl in the man's voice. "You do not stand unless I tell you to. You will look at me when I say. And you will think when I allow you to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master." a heavy gulp brought the quaver in Fenris' voice back down his throat.
Danarius smiled at his slave, as a doting mother would to her child, before looking over his shoulder to the robed woman behind him. "He learns quickly. Do you see, my dear?"
The woman nodded but as the magister turned back to Fenris, the elf could see her lips purse and her eyes narrow in his direction. Did she hate him? he wondered at the thought for only a second before Danarius broke him from it.
"That will be all. Sit." he spoke before stepping past Fenris who did as he was bade. "He is still confused it seems, but he is no fool- not like the rest of the stock. As soon as he is ready, we will pit him against the others..." the voice trailed off as distance grew between the magister and the slave.
Fenris bit his lip, the ripped flesh of his back and shoulders throbbing for attention and through fogging vision, he returned to watching the warrior feign their combat. This time, with an overwhelming jealousy.