The hustle and bustle of the auction hall is oddly soothing. Even with so many men, women, and Others packed into a relatively small space, the murmur of excited conversations lends the air of the place a boisterous energy. Of course, backstage is an entirely different story, the mood of the storage and preparatory areas stale and heavy with fear, misery and dull submission. Though such a stark contrast between buyer and merchandise is to be expected at a slave auction.

You push through the mingling horde, past a centaur in deep conversation with a woman in a tight black dress and a group of hooded figures with tentacles spilling from the bottoms of their robes surrounding a pair of bespectacled men, and catch snippets of conversation as you move towards your seat. Apparently, this auction is supposed to have a rare and coveted piece of merchandise saved for last, though no one seems sure of what exactly the poor creature is. The hosts of the auction have kept information about their special offer to a minimum, leaving rumor and speculation to run rampant through the crowd.

With a sigh, you finally collapse into your seat, and then stiffen right back up as an older man in a well-tailored suit—it looks like it costs more than you could ever hope to see in your lifetime—settles into the seat next to you. You glance around, well-aware of how out of place you are. These auctions are magnets for the rich and powerful of society, the nobility of the Other Side and the one-percent of this side, which you most definitely are not. It's only through a stroke of ‘luck’ and ribbing from your acquaintances about your sudden good fortune that you're even here in the first place.

Your train of thought is halted by a sudden dimming of the lights, and the crowd falls silent as a cloaked figure makes its way onto the stage. The only things visible of the host of this auction are its eyes, dark red lights in the shadows of its hood, and the occasional flash of scaly flesh as it gesticulates with every sentence. "Welcome, one and all, to tonight's most auspicious auction!" Even the creature's voice is ambiguous; both high, fluting tones and deep growls echo through the auction hall as it speaks. "As I know that a certain piece has you all in a storm of anticipation, I won't waste your time with long introductions. Please, my most honorable guests, practice patience with your humble hosts this evening as we present our offerings to you." The thing titter-growls in self-satisfaction at the impatient shifting and murmuring of the crowd. "Without further ado, let the auction commence!"

You watch in mixed fascination and discomfort as piece after piece of 'merchandise' is displayed and bid upon. Creatures captured and bred for labor are put through demonstrations of their strength, while breeding stock are paraded around in scanty clothing and made to demonstrate their 'prowess'; even the most shame-faced and teary-eyed slave is stripped and presented to the hungry eyes of the unsympathetic audience. The crowd rumbles with laughter as a particularly uncooperative beast—you'd swear it was a dragon right out of a fairy tale—roars and tugs against the heavy chains binding it, and is quickly beaten into submission with cold-iron rods by a gang of human attendants.

"A disgusting display, isn't it?" You jump in your seat, and meet the eyes of the older man sitting next to you. His face is set in a scowl, but none of the venom in his voice seems to be directed your way. "We abolished slavery on this side over a century ago, but just because these people aren't human it's suddenly supposed to be okay?"

Without even thinking about it, you nod and murmur your agreement to the man. Officially, these auctions are condemned by pretty much everyone on the human side, but money and influence from the representatives of the Other Side seems to make everyone that matters turn a blind eye. You, personally, have friends in the New Abolitionists and friends who don’t give two shits about what Others get up to, but you hadn't ever really felt one way or the other about these auctions. At least until seeing one with your own eyes tonight.

You ask the man if he's a New Abolitionist, and he answers affirmatively without a trace of embarrassment or acknowledgement of the icy looks being shot at him from the humans and Others nearby. Suddenly, the man's stony expression even as he raised his hand for nearly every bid makes perfect sense. You've heard that affluent members of the New Abolitionists often attend these auctions with the intent of buying up all the stock and releasing every slave they win, using both their own wealth and donations from the other members and supporters of the cause. "And you, young mister...?"

Anon, you say with a noncommittal shrug as you shake his proffered hand.

"Anon." The slightest hint of a smile breaks across the man's firmly-set mouth. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The two of you are interrupted by a crashing gong that silences the crowd. Once more, the robed host takes the stage with all the pomp of a circus ringleader. "My most honorable friends, thank you dearly for your time and patience! As this night comes to a close, allow us to present the final piece of this auction!” The lights dim, and a bright spotlight shines onto the drawn stage curtains. "This piece came to us through a stroke of fortune, though whether beneficent or maleficent depends upon your point of view." Once more, the creature titter-growls as it paces the length of the stage. "One so highborn falling to the depths of adversity and misfortune is usually the stuff of fables. But tonight, my dear friends, you shall see the tale come to life before your very eyes!" The host gestures and the curtains rise. "I present to you, my dear friends, the final piece up for bidding: a magus from the far off lands of Eyghlewhyn!"

The creature standing on stage, bound by heavy chains etched with glowing runes, is like nothing you've seen before. Its—no, his; that thing is definitely a male—body is nearly completely bare, save for the intricately-wound loincloth hanging from his hips. The magus looks almost human, his shackled arms and legs rippling with powerful, lithe musculature; however, that's where the similarities end. His flesh is a deep, coal black unseen on any human or Other you've ever encountered. A thick, powerful tail hangs in shackles of its own behind the magus. A mane of flowing, almost misty hair runs down his back from his neck and shoulders to a tuft at the tip of said tail, mirrored by a well-groomed line running down his chest and below the knot of his loincloth. The last and most intimidating of the magus' features is the animalistic skull he has in place of a head; twin horns sweep backward from his bony brow, majestic even with their points filed to blunted nubs, and the magus' eyes seem to be nothing but twin amber lights that shimmer dully in the deep shadows of the skull's eye sockets. You can feel the misery in those eyes as they sweep over the awestruck crowd, passing over you like a chill, and then drop down to stare at the floor of the stage.

You can also feel the malicious grin of the host as it peers out at the audience from the depths of its heavy hood. "We'll start the bidding at fifty-thousand."

Every hand, claw, and forelimb in the auction hall shoots into the air almost simultaneously, and the host has to shriek-bellow to be heard over the excited bustling of the crowd. Even you raise your hand at the start, more out of a desire to participate in the sudden chaos than any real desire to bid; and it soon falls right back into your lap as the price of the magus quickly inflates beyond all reason.

"One million, do I hear ten!? Ten million! Ten, do I hear twenty!?"

Twenty million dollars. Even the amount you'd suddenly come into was pocket change compared to what these people could throw around. You wonder why you even bothered coming to this sort of event. You could've focused on paying off your student loans, or hell, even buying a house with the money your uncle left you. What did you hope to gain by attending a slave auction?

"Thirty million, do I hear forty!? Forty-five! Forty-five million, do I hear fifty!?

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and look over to meet the eyes of the man next to you. He looks from you to the magus onstage, and then back to you. "Hypothetically, were you to win this auction, what would you want a magus for?"

You jerk at this sudden echoing of your own thoughts, and give the man another shrug. You tell him that you don't even know what a magus is, beyond a magical creature that everyone and their grandma seems to want.

"Fifty-million, do I hear sixty!? Sixty-million?! Fifty-nine?! Fifty-eight?!"

The man peers into your eyes for a long moment, seeming to search for something. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under the heavy hand still resting on your shoulder, but continue to meet his gaze.

"Fifty-seven?! Fifty-seven million?!" The host's crimson eyes flash with delight as it finally gets a taker. "Thank you, fifty-seven! Do I hear fifty eight?! Fifty-eight million?!

The man seems to come to a decision, and nods. He apparently found what he was looking for in you.

"Fifty-seven million! Fifty-seven going once! Going twice—!"

You yelp as the man next to you suddenly grabs your wrist and jerks your hand into the air, calling out, "Seventy-five million!" You can feel your face grow hot and flushed as every eye in the auction hall turns to stare at you and your apparent new friend, and then the blood drains from your face when you realize what he just said. Seventy-five-what-now?

"S-seventy-five...?!" Even the host seems shocked at the number, and has to quickly collect itself. "Seventy-five million! Do I hear seventy-six?! Seventy-six million?! Seventy-six...?" The creature's voice grows almost plaintive as it looks over the silent crowd. After a long, uncomfortable moment, it clears its throat with a strange wheeze-cough, and turns its burning stare on you. "Seventy-five million going once! Seventy-five million going twice!” It pauses one more time. “Sold for seventy-five million!"

As you balk under the hateful glares of the surrounding men, women, and Others in the audience, you wonder again why you even came to this damn auction.


Your new friend leads you to the backstage area, pausing only briefly to murmur to a nearby attendant as you pass. Luckily, there are only a few auction-goers in the cordoned-off waiting area, so you only have to endure a few pairs of eyes staring at you maliciously; the few who managed to outbid the man standing next to you seem to be much more preoccupied with glaring at him and muttering to each other as, one by one, they collect their slaves and finally wander off. It seems your new friend is particularly well-known at this auction house.

Your thoughts are only confirmed as the robed host itself stalks into the waiting area with the still-shackled magus shuffling behind. "Mr. Aldrich!" The creature shakes the man's hand with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to pick up dog shit barehanded. "How pleasant to see you in our hall once again."

"Mellygch, my dear friend, the pleasure is all mine." Aldrich’s own voice is filled with barely-contained mockery as he gives the creature a smug smile. With the ease that he utters the creature's name, you infer that they've met multiple times under similar circumstances.

"Indeed." Mellygch stands aside and gestures for the sullenly-watching magus to step forward. "I suppose you asked to meet me with this particular winning of yours to conduct a personal inspection?"

"Actually, my dear friend..." You jump as Aldrich claps you on the shoulder once more. "This particular winning goes to young mister Anon here."

You balk as the glowing eyes of both Mellygch and the magus turn to you, and give the two a shaky smile. "Anon..." the high, whining tone takes over Mellygch's voice as it practically coos your name, making you shudder. The creature shakes your hand with a crushing grip—you can feel its claws digging into the back of your hand. "How delightful to meet you. Congratulations on winning such a fine piece of merchandise; I'm sure that you'll put it to its best use."

You tug your hand away from Mellygch when it finally lets you go, rubbing at your sore flesh, and feel your hackles rise at the derision in its dual-toned voice. With a defiant glare at the creature, you ask for the magus's name.

"Name?" Mellygch chirp-rumbles with laughter. "I suppose that it was once called Eleazar Draenendu, but that noble name was lost with its wealth and influence. Now, it is named whatever you wish to call it." The creature looks at the magus, crimson eyes shining with malicious delight. "It is but a lowly slave now, after all."

Eleazar? You ignore Mellygch and look up into the magus' amber eyes as you murmur his exotic name. Up close, the magus is much more intimidating. You barely come up to the middle of his chest, and so the massive man looms over you, looking down at you with the eternal grin of his skull face. You happen to notice that the teeth of that smile look particularly sharp. However, something in his eyes sets your fight-or-flight instincts at ease; even if they're nothing but pinpoints of light floating in the darkness of his eye sockets, his are the despondent eyes of a nearly-broken man. You find a reassuring smile coming to your lips as you meet his gaze, and say it's nice to meet him.

After a brief hesitation, Eleazar gives you a nod—and it may just be your imagination, but you think you see the glow of his eyes grow a little brighter.

The whine-cough of Mellygch clearing its throat interrupts the moment. "Now then, if you're satisfied with the merchandise, perhaps we can finally broach the subject of payment?"

Oh. Right.

Feeling panic start welling up in your chest, you pull Aldrich aside to hiss at him that you don't have seventy-five million fucking dollars. He just chuckles and pats your shoulder. "I know, I know. At most you have fifty... sixty thousand?" How the hell did he know that? "That was the last bid you were able to make, wasn't it?" Well, yes, but- "Don't worry my young friend, I'll handle the check. Of course, the New Abolitionists are always grateful for any generous donations our supporters can kindly bestow." Right. You're tempted to just turn right around and walk out, but then you take another look at Eleazar. "You said you don't know what a magus is, right? Well I can tell you that he will struggle to survive on this side. The place he comes from is as different from this world as night and day; this world of cold-iron and technology is new and strange to him. I had hoped to find someone who could help him adapt, to thrive, and I believe you to be that person, young Anon."

Well, no pressure then. With a heavy sigh, you ask who to make the check out to.

Aldrich just chuckles and slips a card into your hand. "I'll allow you time to help him get settled in. Call that number in a couple of days, and we'll sort things out. For now, Mellygch..." The man turns to the waiting auction host. "Kindly take me to the others, so that I can make sure they've been well under your tender care."

"Of course, my dear friend," Mellygch hiss-grumbles as it starts to lead Aldrich off. However, they turn back to you when you call out to them to wait. After all, you need someone to get Eleazar's shackles off. Aldrich smiles, and the look he's giving you is almost proud; much different from the look he's been giving the auction host. Mellygch, on the other hand, whine-growls in irritation. "Of course, Anon. It is yours now, after all." The host calls over a group of oddly-reluctant attendants to undo the magus's bindings, and you watch in confusion as they scramble away as soon as Eleazar's free. Even Mellygch edges towards the door that leads into the storage area. However, the massive slave only moves over to stand next to you, as if waiting in attendance.

"We'll leave you two alone. Give you a chance to get to know each other." Aldrich gives you a nod. "Now then, Mellygch?"

"Yes."

With that the two leave, and you're left standing with Eleazar. You take the opportunity to look over the magus' large, imposing form—feeling your cheeks grow a bit warm as your gaze wanders—and notice that he is doing the same to you. You put a smile on your face once more, even as his amber eyes trailing up and down your body sends a not-unpleasant shiver down your spine.

"So, I am to be bound in servitude to a human."

You jump and suppress an embarrassing yelp when he finally speaks. His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his muscular chest like distant thunder. The heat in your cheeks grows even hotter, this time in embarrassment, as he continues to stare at you while you collect yourself. You guess so, you tell him while brushing yourself off.

"Very well. I am ready to perform any task you set for me, Master Anon." He draws himself up, and you notice him stretching his limbs as if he hasn't moved them in a long time; Mellygch had probably kept him chained up the entire time while he was being prepared to be put up for auction.

Just Anon is fine, you tell him as a wave of fatigue at the enormity of the situation washes over you. You didn't come to this auction thinking you'd actually win anything, and ended up getting caught up in taking care of this slave—you cringe at the word, and quickly correct yourself mentally—this magus for the New Abolitionists.

A heavy, clawed hand on your shoulder makes you flinch—seriously, what's up with everyone and doing that all of a sudden tonight?—and you look up into Eleazar's shining eyes. "Is there any service I can render unto you at this time, Mas- Anon?"

You sigh, and tell Eleazar that can wait until you get home. Then, you stiffen. How the hell are you supposed to get this massive, nearly-naked magus home? You took a cab from the apartment, but you don't think Eleazar would be able to squeeze into the backseat of one. Much less leave enough room for you to squeeze in next to him.

With a low hum that vibrates through your bones, Eleazar puts his other hand on your free shoulder. "Allow me, then." Before you can ask what he's up to, Eleazar dips down to press the cool bone of his brow against your forehead. The burning in your cheeks returns as you feel his warm breath brush over your lips, and stare right into the twin lights shining in his sockets. "Picture your home in your mind. Hold on to the image tightly, as if t'was your lifeline" 'T'was'? You’re so flustered and tired that you do what Eleazar says. You think of home, your tiny, one-bedroom apartment. The small, but surprisingly comfy bed just waiting for you to collapse into it. You try to close your eyes to focus on the image in your mind, but the amber glow of the magus's eyes transfixes you. Captivates you. It begins to grow brighter. Brighter. Blinding.

You gasp and stumble against Eleazar's chest as you feel a burst of wind all around you, and look around, dazed and frantic. You're home, in your bedroom. What the fuck was that?"

"Forgive me," Eleazar says as he helps you stabilize yourself and brushes you off; you have to stop yourself from leaning into his surprisingly delicate touch. "I could sense that you were eager to return home to rest, and so thought you'd appreciate being transported as quickly as possible. A teleportation spell is nothing to my rather extensive talent." Pride starts creeping into the magus's voice before he catches himself and gives you a deep bow. "Please forgive me if I have overstepped my bounds, Master."

A teleportation spell. He can teleport. That's a thing he can do.

You tell Eleazar, again, that just Anon is fine as you massage the throbbing in your temples. You sit down on the edge of the bed and heave out a gusty sigh. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

"Are there any other services you require of me, Anon? Any labors to perform or work to be done?"

No, you reply, you don't need any help with things like that.

"Ah." The light of Eleazar's eyes dims as he hunches into himself. "Then you have bought me for... more carnal purposes. Very well." Eleazar takes a deep, steadying breath, and then reaches down to begin undoing the knot of his loincloth.

You scramble up to stop him, face burning red as you stammer out that you don't need stuff like that from him either. You pointedly ignore the sudden tightness of your pants in favor of staring at the carpet as the magus covers himself back up

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Eleazar stares at you with his head cocked like a confused puppy. His hands open and close at his sides. "Then why were you interested in buying me, Anon?"

Again with that damn question. You tell him you'll figure it out in the morning, trying not to snarl too much as you jump up and direct him down onto the floor. For now, it's late, and you just want to sleep. You flick the lights off and stumble back to your bed in the dark, nearly tripping over Eleazar and waving his hands away when he reaches up to help you. You finally collapse on top of your covers, not even bothering to strip out of your clothes; you just kick your shoes off and lay your head down on the pillow. You can see the amber light of Eleazar's eyes gazing at you, soft and oddly comforting in the darkness of the room, and you murmur out a quiet goodnight to him.

The sound of his deep voice rumbling out, "Goodnight, Anon," in response makes your heart flutter as you slowly drift off.

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Pub: 29 Dec 2020 21:44 UTC
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