Collection of Thoughts

-The Cartagan Orchard. Mid afternoon, 2 DSTR-

Shuddering slightly in response to his voice, cold and distant, tailored to fit the command given to a slave and no more, Cordelia turned around to move up the stairs. Her braid swung slightly with the natural sway her hips forced her into. The creak of the floorboards beneath her gave note of her obedience towards Tyreth. Once he had turned his face away from her, she made a small grimace in mockery to his command.

Following him to the office silently, she made the attempt to follow his stride, but her feminine gate did not allow her to keep at the same pace and stride without looking a fool. Keeping to her own pace, Cordelia entered the office behind him and stood against the wall. There was a hush within the house, as if every slave who was alive on this plantation saw the sparring that took place between the two.

The red hand print around her neck had begun to fade, but bruises from the tips of his fingers began to form. Keeping her hands at her navel, she took one look around the room and closed her eyes. Yet again reminded of the events that had taken place between her and her former master, she swallowed in disgust.

Looking at the floorboards of the room, she could see the wear and tear that the previous master had caused the wood. The room carried a stench of rotten sex, dirt, and alcohol. A crop was hung on the wall, next to a painting of a horse. One might think it was the previous Master’s riding crop- which, in the must crude fashion, it was used as such- but the subject was never a horse.

The only window in the room was large; it had a view of the entire orchard it seemed. A king looking down on his peasants, working their youth away day by day. She had been sucked entirely into her own thoughts, and if spoken to from the time in which they had entered the room, until now, she wouldn’t have noticed.