[Garrison]

  It's easy to tell when he's coming. There is no ripple of disquiet among the slaves, any sudden shift in the atmosphere, or a grand announcement. While the other Officers may trot delicately down precarious walkways taken many times before, Garrison's steps are usually accompanied by a minor shockwave. If anything, it makes his presence all the more upsetting, like he's going to make the spire of the Slave Quarters fall. It's unlikely, having survived so long, but the cracks in the walls and specks of rubble crumbling the walkways more narrow with each day are no comfort.

  He does not surprise anyone as he passes each alcove, crammed with another heathen, sometimes snapping in their direction, flicking them with his tail in taunt, or avoiding their eyes altogether. Yellow are known for predictability, and Garrison's only exception is which slave he has chosen to torment this time. Flick, silence, insult, snap. Silence. Silence. Snap. Silence. Flick. Stop.

  "Now what do we have here?" The massive dire snarls down at his captive, taking in freshly torn flesh and the otherwise cleanliness of his pelt, having not yet adopted the dirt of the cell he's confined to. "I don't think I've seen you before." He leans in, sniffs, licks his jaws. "Or have I? Not here, at least."

  He doesn't care for an answer, and any attempt at one is met with teeth. "Hm. Those look painful," and there's an excitement in his eyes as they fall upon the wounds, "But you're no use dying of infection." Despite how much he might like to watch. The spire is too quiet for his taste, and Oukoku needs all the bodies he can carry.

  Garrison turns his back, far from afraid of any retribution from the injured slave. He's far more vulnerable in the front, anyways. "Get up," he growls, leading the way down, "follow me, and keep your mouth shut if you care for your tongue."

[Leocor]

He stood in his cell

Lonely and defeated he was standing with his bag turned against the hall and he did hear the commotion happening behind him, but he didn't turn around.

The wound on his ear would never heal, but the child had only taken the tip of it, mostly so because she was small and didn't have that large teeth, the wound on his leg on the other hand would heal. Some day. It wasn't too bad and it wasn't deep enough to scar even, the missing point of his ear was all that was left to remind him of what he had seen and experienced that day, and it was nothing short of horrifying. Most would think that he had been frightened by the white seour or maybe he was upset with the wounds, but no such thought occurred to him. He was afraid of what would become of these children.

What would they turn into? What world was this? He had blindly put his faith in the hands of people who were proclaimed gods, he served them as kings and queens, but they trained their children to attack, harm and obscure the vision of right and wrong.

He worried for the safety of this land's people

In another life he might have been the leading man of a revolution, the hero, the man of the hour. Now was not that kind of life. "Now what do we have here?" He turned his left ear behind to listen and stood silent and watched the cold wall in front of him. "I don't think I've seen you before." Probably not. He had been escorted here just days ago. Leocor was still a good man, beaten down to the ground he had chosen to rise again, but how many times he would continue to do this was left up to faith. When would the knight turn rogue? "Or have I? Not here, at least." Leocor didn't wish to answer for he didn't know the intentions of this man.

"Hm. Those look painful," Ah so another sadist.. Another white one perhaps doing whatever they felt like on a whim. Nothing could surprise him at this point and he finally turned around with a cold look in his eyes. "But you're no use dying of infection." Leo turned his head away from him again thinking there would be nothing more to it. "follow me, and keep your mouth shut if you care for your tongue." Leo snapped his head around and fire was still burning in this man's eyes.

He had come to Oukoku-kai to serve and live for this people, to serve a higher purpose and while he had found vile people with vile purpose his course had not changed. He would not be taken down by brutal slavers who thought themselves scary to the world. So he was going to beat him? Big deal, he had taken some punches before, might as well get it over with. The threat of harm blew right past him and he simply walked toward him and stood ready to follow his directions. He could take a beating, he could bleed.

For the people.

[Garrison]

  It's not that he's sadistic. Sure, there's nothing quite like watching a heathen die for a good cause, dominating outsiders, forcing lessons into the bones of his comrades. They learn from punishment, and in the end, he wants them to be better. He wants Oukoku-Kai to be the most powerful pack in the Straits, an underdog made overlord, led to Armageddon by cruel gods. If an insubordinate Herbalist causes harm to their superiors, take the offending appendage. If one of Untested missteps, mark them for their mistakes. Leocor was made a slave so her can learn, and pain is an unyielding mentor.

  Garrison lunges for Leocor's scruff when they reach the spire's termination. He doubts the slave to be considering a run for it, but it never hurts to impress authority. "You're a lucky wretch. Gigantea's Seour asked for you." A fitting place for a White blasphemer. He's sure to see the proper punishment under the amoral Scheherazade.

  Agh, who is he kidding? Garrison just loves to see others hurt.

[Leocor]

he grabbed his scruff like some adult scolding a child, and Leocor simply let out a bit of air from his mouth, not quiet a sigh, but a release. Was this it? Was this good enough to satisfy the brute? He followed suit and watched his steps as the other male lead him out of the quarters and he barely moved his ears at the mention of the white seour. He didn't want to meet her, didn't want to see her at all, his distaste for her had grown too large at the sight of her manipulating the young. It was distasteful in every sense of the word.

"Is that where you are taking me now?" He didn't care he had been asked to be quiet, but he wanted to know if he was to see this - beastly woman again. He wasn't sure he had the stomach for it, and he was angry with her. There just was this thing about Leocor though, no matter how vile another person had been, no matter how they had acted out, he wasn't ever in the right mind of hurting his packmates. He wasn't condoning violence ever, unless it was a direct threat of this land and its people, he was a warrior, but the noble kind and if the war had taught him anything, it was violence hadn't solved much.

The war was futile

No victor

no gain

He moved his eyes around the scenary, somewhat glad to leave the area. The other slaves were nothing like him, fighting against everything around them, wanting to get out and leave this place, but Leocor? He meant to stay, he meant to serve and protect this land and be its servant till his death. Shaken lightly toward the core, but not enough. The shock value had to rise higher than that. "You know.. I want to serve Oukoku-kai. That's my only goal" He hoped it would soften the grip at him a little, it was getting annoying.

He hoped to converse with the man for he didn't wish to fight him - he was just doing his job right? Handling - slaves...

He cringed a little. He had never liked the idea of keeping slaves like that, serving others not out of will but fear of ones life. He didn't like it, the entire practice about slavery was cruel and unusual and he had turned a blind eye toward it until now, but he wasn't sure how long he could continue to do that. When he got out of slavery he vowed to accept slaves into his future house and free them of slavery.

[Garrison]

  "Is that where you are taking me now?"

  "Well we're certainly not going for a walk in the rose garden." Not even Karma could convince him for that... Without extensive favours. He trots on in silence, never looking back on the slave, but his ears do angles periodically, to endure lighter footfalls follow him. When Leocor speaks, he stops. Flicks his tail, hopefully smacking the slave in a way no more hurtful than his pride. "That's not the point." Garrison turns, and contrary to all his grandstanding, there is no anger on the Officer's features. "There's no loyalty or morality-- especially not among the White. It's about submission."

  Argue with the gods, be smote by their minions. It's a simple way of life; a simple man such as himself appreciates the predictable politics. The Yellow ways are easiest to understand. He licks his chops, and offers advice: an uncharacteristic kindness from the sadist. "Do as you're told. The Rosa know best. Don't get killed." The dire turns back with a toss of thick fur, almost mane-like around his throat, and trots on. He thinks the White equally abhorrent, but knows better than to bring it up.

  He likes Leocor, all things considered. If he weren't claimed by Gigantea, Garrison might have him. A nice obedient little slave to do his bidding-- and it's much easier to agree with soldiers than backstabbers. Maybe he'll bond him once he's free of the demotion. If he lives.

[Leocor]

"Well we're certainly not going for a walk in the rose garden." Well obviously not, but still. He hated people who replied like this, it was not in his nature to ever reply that snarky, he was too respectful in his demeanor and even if someone asked the most obvious things he would still have answered truthfully and properly. He gave a light sigh at the situation, not too happy about it having to see the white seour again, she was too harsh and mean spirited and she had manipulated children to do her bidding. That wasn't the ideal woman for him or good behavior in any way.

As he speaks he suddenly turns and lashes out with a smack on his nose, his instincts made him pull his head in and blinked as something came flying toward his face. He didn't even think about it or do it to set him off but just reacted naturally. He blinked and looked at the larger male with a question mark painted on his naive face, didn't understand the sudden lash or anger, wondering if this was another color display of the white regime. "That's not the point." He surprised him.

"There's no loyalty or morality-- especially not among the White. It's about submission."

Leocor stops.

Submission.

No honor, no loyalty or moral

manipulation and submission

Was this truly the color of white? Was this simply the fate that everyone accepted from the white? The red was wise and diplomatic, the yellow strong and firm, maybe harsh but in a reaffirming way. White was - this? Nothing more? He wanted to speak, wanted to say something in return but also understood that this man was not like what he actually thought. Leocor shamed himself for thinking the worst of him, he was helping in his own way, telling him the formula to escape slavery. But could Leocor actually submit?

Did he mean - Lie about it?

Did he mean to tell him that Leocor had to lie through his teeth and pretend to submit to the white to gain his freedom? Was it worth it? Yes. it was becoming apparent that this people needed him, needed him to shield them from the white and he couldn't do that as a slave. He had to even if it defiled his honor.

"Do as you're told. The Rosa know best. Don't get killed." Kindness? In a man like this? Leocor felt softer now and looked at him with kinder eyes. He wasn't so bad. He was trying. Trying to help him, advice him and guide him. Even if he was a simple slave and he the officer. "Thank you." He swore to never judge a character by their rough demeanor again, not until all light had been cast upon them. The male turned around again and Leocor quickly followed, but a question pressed on. "What's your name sir?" He almost offered his own but decided that the other male likely would act as if he didn't care, or he already knew it.

Best leave it be then.