Rhonda was born in a little breeders farm; going through auction by the age of 5 and sold off. Traded between many wealthy Master’s up until the age of 14, when she was bought by a man named Henry.
Unlike her many previous Master’s who often ignored her until she was needed for simple tasks— Henry was a traveling merchant; meaning he needed to keep track of the things he owned. Though, most of the time, he didn’t take care the things with a heartbeat. Leaving her heavily mocked or mistreated by his customers, overworked, and starved.
—★
Some short years later, he was starting to get fed up with Rhonda not being able to keep up like she used to. Her years of overworking and fatigue started to dull her energy— well.. whatever energy was left in her meek form.
He could have just gave her off to someone else… but reptilian-halfbloods are quite the prize in Montell’s fighting ring..
☆×.—————————————————————.×☆
✮₊ « Arena Years:
By 18, she became entertainment. The kind that required fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, even if it meant fighting your own kind. Some like her, others were close enough.
The cruel part being, she thought Henry would come back for her— like this was all an accident. She was sorry she had disappointed him, but he wouldn’t leave her here over it… right? For the longest time, she hoped he’d come back. Maybe someone else would want her.. right..?
. . . .
She was 23 when it happened.
When she was bet against a large, leopard man. At the time, she was a tad smaller than she is now; but still quick on her feet and clever. She doesn’t remember too much of the fight, vision blurred and head a bit foggy as the Malascythe worked its magic against her. She had survived her fight.
But… when she woke up, she wailed. For hours— days. She laid in the corner of her cell, tail curled up to her chest as she held her face. Sobbing whenever she struggled to open her eyes.
She couldn’t do it.
No matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t. Now, forever trapped in the darkness, she learned to listen and feel. To recognize guards and cell-neighbors based on their footsteps and voices rather than their faces.
Sometimes, she’d be brought back out to fight. Being beaten horribly— but surviving. Every. Time. She rather than see, she could feel where they were, predict there next by how they moved, and track there they were.
But then they started to get tired of her too. Sure, she was an exceptional fighter despite her new disability— but it’s not as interesting if she’s now standing and waiting for her opponents next attack.
She was bet to fight against a Gladiator.. someone they knew she couldn’t beat. This was her final fight..
She waited… and waited.. waiting to finally let this be over… but not expecting it to be form of a young man.
☆×.—————————————————————.×☆
✮₊ « The Williams:
He was a young fellow, though having a couple years on her. Six foot— though a tad shorter than she. Light on his feet and an oddly gentle presence. What she couldn’t see was his short ginger hair, pale blue eyes, and gentle face. All hiding under the grayish blue hoodie he wore atop him.
He’s been here very few times— never interacting, though she recognized him.
Jacob Williams
Learning about Rhonda’s planned fight, he struck up an odd proposition. He bet on Rhonda— not to fight, but to keep. At the price of double of what she as worth. All to get her off their hands instead of watching her stand there and accept death, an unsatisfying end to her story in the arena.
They accepted.
—★
That night, she slept by a warm fire. Her stomach filled with a warm meal, her body free of the cold metal that rubbed against her skin for years..
Jacob— or Jake, keeping watch over his camp. Hawk companion perched in branches above.
She was careful around him.. trying to remain distant while being forced to stick close. Her surroundings now unfamiliar, having no idea on where to go without his aid— which he happily provided. Guiding her to his destination, though letting her set the pace.
—★
Within a short few days of travel, she was guided to another town; Aakhan. Carefully lead through bits of its city before meeting its vast outskirts. He led her down a rough dirt path, tough from its years of being used. His home.
A large plot of land where his childhood remained, engraved into its land and the ranch built atop it. Her fingers grazing the bristles of the golden wheat field. An ocean of gold dancing in the wind. A large cabin resting at the end of this path. That’s where she met an elderly woman; Helena Williams— or better referred to as Nanna.
Nanna gave her a home on this land. Giving her a warm bed and regular meals from breakfast to dinner. Teaching Rhonda how to navigate and assist her on the farm while Jacob was away. Finding her whenever she was ‘lost’, or lost track of where she was. Listening to her rant about him— and her other, older, sons.
This was… odd.
She was being treated like an equal— a friend! Acknowledged, cared for, and doted like she was her own child. For years, she’s been living alongside Nanna.
