The shackles clasped and he nearly whispered a sorry when he made them so tight, knowing that she was fragile in comparison to others. He steadily placed his hand on her shoulder and looked to be grasping it suffocatingly, but if anything, his grasp was only firm. Feet led the way through the crowd, keeping her beside him at all times, ignoring the jeers she received from his housemates— the congratulations, he received, from all. The greeting cards were forming in Tarryn’s head now: ‘Congratulations on your first slave! I hope she’s just as obedient as mine was.’ “I wouldn’t put gas chambers below them, Faith,” His voice was low so only they could hear him speak, while his expression was as cold as it was on the job, “They see you as below them. They see you and the others, because of either your lack of blood purity, your lack of money, or your alignment with any greater cause, as a threat— though they will claim you are dirt in the end.
"But… Never, never speak back to anyone. Respect them. Do that and I can keep you safe… Especially because you opted for slavery, and not participation in The Games."
The rough metal chains bit into Faith's skin. She knew she'd have bruises later. But there were worse injuries that she could sustain, so she didn't say anything. Besides, Tarryn had to keep up an appearance. Lack of blood purity? Lineage had nothing to do with one's abilities. Faith clenched her jaw. If she didn't have so many debilitating conditions, she would have put up a fight. It was just so stupid. The ignorance made her want to bang her head on a wall.
She nodded. "Of course... I intend to survive this... this..." Faith searched for the word. Were they in the midst of a war? Was it the beginning of a cold, dark era? Was it both? Even more questions piled into Faith's head.
"Tarryn, you're my only lifeline in this Hell."
