A New Life of Each

She squinted, the salty sands of this place kicking up into her face. She grumbled, wondering why she even had to go out of her room and into the front entrance. Then again, after all this, she'd have someone to do it for her, so she could suffer a bit of aggravation.

Today the traders came in and the place was closed off, all those who gave importance to this world's well-being picking out a servant. Well, it really wasn't a servant, though it was more in the 'correct standing'. They were slaves, obviously, harvested from other worlds by the Heartless and those who worked with them for a profit. But like it mattered; they didn't use munny anyway. That's why they would so gladly give away these things to her or her counterparts, if she had anyone who measured up to her, for free. So, that's exactly why she walked out into the bright afternoon sun, the cursed light she had grown to hate. She didn't like it much; it made her skin burn if she was out in it too long without a hat. But, somehow they had convinced her it was worth it.

She stood before a old man wearing a heavy cloak, a mask and hat concealing all that was not his eyes. She just glared angrily, signaling to him to get this over quick.

"Ah, Your Grace, we have been expecting you. Please, this way," he said, waving the way and walking on, her following. She took out a handkerchief, putting it over her mouth to the baking flesh of these creature. Some were human, others not, but it didn't matter. The man continued as somehow the smell got better. "You are the first to chose and so you have the best selection, as always. But you should be happy, this is the best group yet."

"If this is the best you have then I feel sorry for your business," she spat, putting the cloth back into her pocket. "Where do you get these things, anyway?"

"For the farthest corners of the universe! The most unique, gifted of the bunch! What you saw back there is the leftovers, so please pay no mind to them. But back here, is the prize that even you should be proud of." He stopped when a wide u-turn of people lined up, mostly of human origin.

"This? Please, the lowest ranking of fighters would be better than these sorry excuses."

"Umm, well...We have plenty to chose from! The human women have been the most picked, seeing how their find craftiness in sewing and hairdressing are unsurpassed!"

"Somehow your words don't convince me otherwise," she said, looking around as he continued to ramble on.

She somehow found herself interested in the caged beings towards the back. Most were in chains, sitting back calmly as if waiting to be unleashed, to do something deadly. They would probably be bought for fighting purposes, but one seemed different. He was unconscious, lying on his back with a blood-red cape around him. He was a human, to what she could tell, with black pants and a dark blue shirt. As with most of these beings, he had no shoes, and his feet were scarred and gashed. He had dirty brown hair, a scar on the left side of his face. She narrowed her eyes, thinking.

"Who is this one, and why is he in a cage?" she questioned, interrupting his speech.

He walked over, shaking his head. "Oh you do not want this one. He was found in a deep carven mining facility, and was a most resistant one when we tried to take him. He hit his head pretty hard, and he has been unconscious ever since."

"How do you know he's still alive?" she questioned.

"He still has a heartbeat," he replied, turning away. "But again, you do not want such a being."

"A heartbeat..." she whispered, pausing for a moment. She saw his hand lying there, seeing the black glove over it with bronze claws. This rode out the assumption that he was human, but at least he was something like it. But she wasn't quite human either, so she shouldn't complain. She reached out her hand, about to touch it. Her wrist was suddenly grabbed, being pulled away.

"There is a power dwelling around this man, especially to that hand. Don't not touch."

Her anger boiled, clenching her fist. Suddenly, the old man went flying back into the others, the hair on her head rising slightly and then falling back into place. She didn't even care to look back, only continued to stare at the person's hand.

"Do not speak to me as if I am a child, old man. I know he has a power, for I can sense it within him. And if you dare touch me again, be warned that you shall regret it." She moved her feet, beginning to walk back to her room after she spoke. "I will take this one, for he seems to hide a secret that I will find out."

With that the sands kicked up again, other going to get the man out of the cage, hauling him into the building. They went up the steps to her room, where she held open the door for them to enter. She told them to put him on the sofa, chain him to the nearest pillar there with a chain long enough for at least him to walk around. Some people restricted there servants to just a foot-long chain, and usually they had to reach with their feet the get something. She didn't want that, even if he was going to be her servant. She wasn't that cruel, after all.

"Get some shoes and some wrap. And I want it in a hurry, understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace," one of them answered, the two of them who had brought him in sculling out and getting what she asked.

They returned in no time, handing her the pair of brown boots and white wrap. They quickly ran out again, shutting the door from behind. She turned her head from where she stood, her long earrings chiming on her metal armor. She walked on over to him, kneeling at his feet and beginning to wrap his cuts for them to heal properly. She didn't want to put the boots on yet, for his feet needed to get better first before he could even walk.

As she stood up, she moved over to the side, leaning over. She wondered what his eyes looked under there. Were they black? Were they glowing yellow like the heartless? She wanted to know, and since he was unconscious, this shouldn't hurt him at all. So she put her hand on his eyelid, spreading it to see the color. In a moment she was shocked to see the bright blueness of it, and then to have it focus. The clawed hand reached up, about to grab her hand, when she jumped back, holding up a hand and making it up. Both eyes came open wide, staring at her for a second before he tried to sit up, but she held up another hand, making him lie back again.

"Don't get up. Your strength has yet to return," she said, the man relaxing as he looked deep into her pale green eyes. She thought for a moment that if he was not human he didn't entirely understand her, so she began to talk slowly and loudly. "Hello! My name is Nevaeh! Can you un-der-stand me?"

"Yes, I can understand you!" he shouted, putting a hand on his head. "You don't need to yell!"

She stood back, blinking in surprise. "You understand me then?"

He looked at her as if she were being ignorant or something. "Of course I do! What do you take me for, a Heartless?"

"Are you human then?"

He hesitated, soon saying, "Something like it."

She stepped forward again, getting close to his face and narrowing her eyes. "Then what are you? What is your name?"

"They call me Strife," he answered. "I don't actually know what I am...rather, who I am even. I hit my head a long time ago and forgot everything except for that name, so everyone calls me it. One thing I can remember though, is being stuck in those mines for three years with the starving coldness." He stared, looking behind her to see her black and white wings. "Why? What are you?"

She turned away, shaking her head. "Don't ask me that question ever again, Strife. Ever."

"What make you think I'm staying here?" he questioned, and she laughed.

"Because, you were sold to me. You're my servant now."

"No way! I ain't standing for it!" He got up, about to stand but quickly sat back down, reaching for his feet. He saw that they were wrapped, looking back up in wonder.

"Oh yes, you are. And such language will not be permitted here, understand?" She saw that he was wondering about his feet, and shrugged. "Well, I can't have you catching any diseases now can I? You were the only decent one in that group, so I should take good care of you if you're going to last."

"You talk as if I'm your pet," he stated.

"If you want to think of it that way," Nevaeh replied.

She looked to the door as a bell rang, Nevaeh sighing and waving a hand. "Well, I'll be back shortly. Might as well get this over with."

"What?" he asked.

"Fighting. I always go in one battle per day because of all these challengers. Those poor souls...I guess the other championships have gotten too easy. I should tell the administrator to boost fighting capability. Anyway, like I said, I'll be back."

She raised a hand, dust collecting at her feet as her long silver hair rose, the dust swirling up and consuming her, her being disappearing from sight. The sky in the back darkened, but he paid no mind. He only tried to find a way to stand, searching for balance. When he had, he slowly made his way to the door, thinking of somehow getting out of here. Anywhere but here. He wouldn't be a slave, not after what he had been through. But he found as he came in reach of the door handle, his hands were chained back, unable to grasp it. He gazed back, seeing the chain being hooked up to the pillar and drilled into it. He looked to his wrists, seeing that nothing could break them except for a key. He cursed, shaking his head and walking back to the sofa. He wasn't going to stand around if he didn't need to, but at least give his feet a break to heal. Somehow he would find a way to get out of here, and the best time would be when his feet healed.

He sat back until the door came slamming open, a groan of annoyance sounding. he just stared, wide-eyed, as she entered, blood stained on her armor, face, and hair. She shook her head, quickly unsnapping her bronze chest plate, revealing a white shirt. Nevaeh went to the small pool to the side, looking like a bath at first, but she suddenly tossed it in, kneeing to wash her hands off. She dunked her head in the water, blinking when she brought her head back up. She knew his question, and laughed, standing up.

"Let me guess, you're probably wondering, 'Who did she kill today?' Sorry, I don't do that kind of thing. Now hurting them severely is a different story, only to the point of the medics powers. They wanted ruthless, so I gave them ruthless, but I shall never kill anyone."

He grinned. "So I guess I can be glad about that?"

She nodded. "Yes, you have everything to be glad about." She pointed to the floor. "Oh, and don't try getting up again, or I'll shorten that chain of yours to just that sofa."

Strife stared, confused. "How did you know?"

She went to her bed on the other side of the room, taking off and armor-clad boots and setting them to the side. "I have my ways, so don't try anything funny."

"Will do," he replied, soon looking around. "So...what exactly do I do?"

"You know how to sew?" she asked.

"Not really," he answered.

She picked up a holey cloth, opening a drawer and getting out a needle and thread. She tossed it to him, returning to her spot at her dresser. "Then learn. If you're going to be here then you might as well."

"Don't you have maids to do this stuff?" he asked.

"Yes, but you might as well do something to pass the time."

"Yeah, I guess..."

She looked to him. "Is there something you'd rather do?"

"Yeah, sleeping would be nice."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her book. "Very well. I'll let you off easy for a few weeks for your feet to heal."

He threw the things to the floor, sighing in relief as he lied back, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. She smiled, finding humor in how in such a simple way peace could be achieved in one's soul. He laughed, surprisingly, Nevaeh thinking he might be asleep so fast, but he wasn't.

"Guess you're not such a bad person after all. After all I heard about you," he stated to her.

"Yes...Maybe so..."