The images haunted her mind. Blood. Everywhere. A Crimson as bright as the irons that encircled his wrists. The suffering on his face. It hurt her more than anything. She hated to see him suffer. She wanted to suck the lifeblood out of every one of his tormentors, to free him and cradle him in her arms, to tend to his wounds and hum to him softly until he fell asleep in her lap. Yet, that's not what happened. She had felt so powerless...a helpless spectator and nothing more, and because they were so much stronger than her, they took from her everything she had.

Chains, heavy and cold like the water on the sides of the ship. They had stripped her of her sign and reduced her clothing to rags with the string of a whip. Blood stained everything, as vivid a jade green as the tears that streamed down her face. They had just let it run, untended as she sat there chained to the wall in that filthy slave hold. The smell had made her painfully thirsty as the warm, spicy, earthen pallet of freely flowing blood taunted her senses and brought back the old cravings she fought so hard to suppress. It made her feel like a beast, wild and savage and bitter, but she dared not bare her fangs at her captors for that only led to threats of pulling them out, and beating her further, and she wanted to avoid that, no matter how much their cool, sweet scents made her mouth water.

Days in that hold had brought stiffness, hunger, pain, thirst, filthiness. She felt that with each passing hour she was losing her think pan, and that eventually she'd stop worrying about her ultimate fate, her fear fading to apathy, and would begin seeking to sink her teeth into every higher blood she could, her jaws clamped so tightly they wouldn't release until they had sucked out every drop. Part of her wondered if she really had that kind of nerve, but that part was always answered by an angrier part of her, a part that would not let her think of anything other than the Signless, and how the people that hurt him needed to pay. That part turned her fear into bitterness, and yet she fought it, because she knew that's not what her dear, sweet Kankri would have wanted from her.

Now though, she drank in only one scent, and it was simultaneously cool and sweet and sour. The flavor didn't appeal to her in particular, and she was glad for it, seeing as it was the scent of the blood of her new mistress, who, despite coming off as sneaky, manipulative, and domineering, had been kinder to her than anyone else so far. It was on her command that she had been bathed and her wounds bandaged and even now as she sat, wrapped only in a blanket from her mistress's couch for the pirate had commanded her to remove her clothing some time before, she couldn't help but feel gratitude, because even though her hands were still tied together, it was with a soft rope and she was in the warmth of a cabin instead of the hold.

"Why so quiet, darling?" Asked Mindfang, for that was her real title even though she would have the Dolorosa calling her nothing but mistress. She came up to her and ran a finger down the Dolorosa's bare shoulders. "What's troubling you my lovely Porrim?"

The sugar coating. The Dolorosa hated that. This whole time Mindfang had been calling her "lovely," "dearest," "darling," and then followed by referring to her by the name she hadn't used since before she had been given her title. Mindfang insisted that she forget that name, as well as the life she had lived before. That had all been stripped from her because she no longer was worth it. Now she was simply a piece of property, a tool with no will of her own, and Mindfang had made a point of remind her of this.

"Nothing, mistress." Answered the Dolorosa. It was very much a lie because at the moment it was easier to count the things that did not bother her, but she said it because that's what Mindfang wanted to hear, and if Mindfang was happy, they were both happy, or at least, it lessened her misery somewhat.

Mindfang chuckled. "You filthy little liar. So cute. Already denying things to keep your mistress nice and satisfied." She wiped the wet lower edges of the Dolorosa's eyes lightly with her fingers. "Don't fret dear, it's not so bad. You'll find yourself happy that I took you for myself. Another master may not have been so kind." She took the Dolorosa's chin and pulled her face close to her own. "Now come dear, wont you kiss back this time?"

The Dolorosa tried to hide her distaste and participate when Mindfang pressed her sticky cobalt lips to her bare black ones. This was the thing she hated the most. Chores, she thought, would probably have suited her just fine. She had done her fair share when Kankri was a grub, and she had had to teach him once he became old enough to do things himself. On the other hand, The Dolorosa had once been a tender to the grubs in the caves deep below Alternia. She had sworn herself to celibacy from the time she was very young, and she'd never had a problem with that. In fact, she took pride in it. Now, here she was, enslaved to someone around her age, and yet they seemed at completely different stages in life. Mindfang spent her time playing these childish romance games that the Dolorosa had seen her own ward grow out of with his disciple, and she seemed very intent on making these flushed games the very point of the Dolorosa's life. The Dolorosa was no idiot, she could tell when she was being used.

Still, she didn't fight as Mindfang straddled her and eased her back onto the finely woven fabric of the couch, still kissing her, pulling her bound hands over her head. The Dolorosa just closed her eyes and let it happen, keeping still, trying not to flinch as she felt cool fingers running through her messy hair, up her horns and down the rest of her body. This was a reality she was just going to have to accept if she wished to avoid pain and survive. It's not as if she could do anything to change her ultimate fate anyway.