Sunshine flickering through the window. A cold breeze kissing his skin on a hot day. A full belly.

Concentrating as hard as he could no those three things, the elf gritted his teeth and did not move as the foot came from his left, striking him across the jawline. The blow knocked him off of his knees, falling onto the floor. He coughed, trying to move his jaw to allow more breathe to flow into his lungs. With a close to silent whimper, the elf rose back onto his aching knees.

"You understand why I have to do this to you, don't you?"

The elf's voice was slow, measured, and with a hint of an accent. "Yes, Master."

"Good." Another kick came, once more landing on his left chin.

Unable to stop himself, the elf let out a wet gasp, crying out as he fell once more to the floor. Trying to ignore the blood filling his mouth, he rose again to his knees, gaze fixated on the floor.

"Why I am doing this?"

"Because I wonb't wearn." He lisped back, lip becoming swollen.

When the man looming over him said nothing, the elf flinched, worried he had said the wrong thing. Kicking wasn't too bad. If the master decided he hadn't had enough yet, though, he would flogged, beaten, burned, zapped, and more.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize, a stern voice above him grunted, "Up!"

Nodding, the elf rose to his feet but kept his gaze lowered to the floor. Sunshine. Wind. Full.

A hand grabbed the mess of brown hair on his head and pulled him down again. The elf gave out an initial cry, but then grew silent. His master hated making a scene, whether in public or alone as they were. His left side of his face smacked onto the floor, making the blood explode in his mouth. The metallic taste was overpowering. Though his body screamed for him to run, nerves flaring in every part of his brain, he tried to remember those three things. Sun. Wind. Full.

Wordlessly, the elf stood again, legs shaking.

"Look at me."

And he did. Locking eyes with his master was always terrifying. Pale hazel eyes leered down at him, face full of disgust. His black hair was graying in spots, but that was only noticeable if you've been within inches of the man. From the elf's current position, however, he couldn't see the little stings of grey.

A deeply tanned hand rose and gently landed on his right cheek. Before the elf could advert his eyes, green flooded his whole sight. Soothing quick healing rippled through his face, mending the damage in his gums. He tried to stand still, but his master's magic always felt like rushing water to him. It made him want to run.

Finally, it ceased. There was no longer any pain left in his mouth, though his jaw felt stiff. He had his eyes casted at the floor again, but his master titled his chin up to look at him more properly. "Do you understand your mistake, elf?"

"Yes, Master." He said immediately.

"Will you spill water on the table again?"

"No, Master."

"Good." Master nodded, releasing his hold on the elf's chin. Without hesitating, he turned to look at the floor again. "Good, now be on your way. I'm certain Anaka wanted to see you."

The elf barely stopped himself from flinching. It was a very near thing. "Yes, Master."

Strolling off, he walked quietly through the halls, keeping to the shadows and seen by none. Quietly, he ducked through the extravagant halls, knowing the winding labyrinth by heart. Wordlessly still, he knocked on the door he knew to be the right one and gave a shiver when the feminine voice on the other end rang out for him to enter. Taking a deep breathe, he opened the door and tried to remember those three things.

o.O.o

Standing in the showers, the elf let the lukewarm water run down his face, often catching on his ears and streaming off like two little waterfalls. Shivering despite the warmth, he curled on himself, hugging chest as tightly as he could. 'Not mine,' he told himself, fingers digging into his flesh. 'Not mine.'

His skin was raw and pink where he had scrubbed them viciously, but he knew the smell lingered. The smell always lingered.

'Not mine.' He told himself looking down at his body. 'Not mine.'

'Well, what is mine?'

Scowling, the elf shut off the stream of water falling from the bucket above him by flipping the switch. All nine small holes were cut, leaving the rest of the water trapped in there.

After he dried off on a scratchy uncomfortable towel, he slipped on the silk pants waiting for him. There was no shirt available. 'Not mine.' He told himself, looking at the pants.

As quietly as he could, he walked through the dark halls, hand curled at his side. His bare feet squished the rug beneath him, the fabric tickling his toes. 'Not mine.'

As he slipped into his master's room and sat at the floor of the bed, he couldn't stop shaking. His master would return soon from his dinner.

'Not mine.' He thought, looking down at his arms.

Soberly, he glanced over at his left hand. After a quick glance around to make sure he was alone, he reached forward with a tentative finger. Beneath his touch, his palm flashed green, illuminating his smiling face as the feeling sent not unpleasant tickling through both his left palm itself, and the finger stroking it.

'Mine.' He thought with a secret smile, tracing the strange green mark. 'Mine.'

o.O.o

He was in the kitchens today. With both the master and his apprentice gone to the circle for the day, he was left cut off, wondering how to be of use. He had approached the Head Slave (an old elf nearly bald and a kind smile named Dal), and just stood there before the man had realized what he had wanted. Dragging him by the arm, Dal had brought him to the kitchens where the slaves there thrusted a peeler in his hands and pointed to the potatoes.

Ever since, he had been peeling the mountain of potatoes for what had to been hours.

He only looked up when he realized the rest of the staff was discussing him. He was unable to understand their words, but the pointing and angry gesturing made in his direction made it clear.

Now he listened closely, hoping to hear words he knew. After five minutes or so with nothing fruitful, he gave up and went back to the potatoes.

Minutes later, he was approached by a glaring slave girl. Looking up, the elf locked eyes with her striking brown orbs. "You goes to market and brings back packaged." She snapped in halting Common. "You useless here."

Nodding, the elf accepted the paper held out to him and headed out the door. Once free of the porte-cochère and far enough out of the sight of the house, the elf took a deep breath and allowed a smile to flutter across his face. Sunshine shone above him, flooding his body in warmth. A wonderful breeze licked at the back of his neck, feeling wonderful. His stomach wasn't completely filled, but he wasn't hungry.

"Good day." He whispered to himself as he hurried off to the marketplace. "Good day."

And the memory of this moment was his to keep forever.