Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Five | Fourth World

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Finch awoke to the sound of whispers. They were faint, indistinct murmurings which he couldn't locate the direction of.

He pushed himself up, his body stiff and aching from lying on the ground within the Chief's hut. Apparently it was extremely hospitable of him to have even offered a fur for him to lie on. What wasn't so much, was Finch then having to listen to the man indulging his carnal-desires for the following few hours.

The only thing that was truly strange, which Finch had seen with his own eyes, was the older man's sheer stamina. But it made sense why he had multiple partners— or slaves— to help indulge him through the nights. And judging by what Finch had experienced since arriving at this new clan, skin-ship was greatly encouraged. There was no concept of privacy.

Which is why it wasn't seen as strange when Finch was given a place to sleep within the Chief's hut, and yet fortunately not invited to join the man and his handful of bed partners. With only one thing he could do, Finch hunkered down and closed his eyes.

He had wanted to wrap the fur around his head, to drown out both sound and sight, but that would have probably be seen as abnormal. Finch's own family were very comfortable exposing all around one another, so Finch himself would have naturally grown up thinking nothing of it.

The Chief spotted the young boy who had fallen asleep, and when someone offered to wake him up, he turned them down. As was tradition, if the Chief was present then everyone else would only sleep once he himself had done so, but the older man was conscious of how the boy had witnessed the dissolution of his own clan, dragged against his own will across the lands and forcefully placed in a new one.

He let the boy sleep, knowing what he had in store for him in the near future.

But Finch was none the wiser, intending to use any time before the 'offering' to find out what it entailed. Judging by the skittish movements of the slaves, he knew it wasn't going to be easy. Especially when he had to hobble to chase them down, as his feet had been bandaged up pretty haphazardly; which was likely the norm in the current undeveloped world.

The strange whispering seemed to follow him, resulting in Finch looking around continuously. But the people around the Chief's hut, which were primarily slaves, rushed about doing their jobs. No one even spared a glance in his direction.

He used the excuse of getting water, even though it was hardly a task he should be doing with injured feet. But it was the only way he was allowed to leave the hut without being followed; and fortunately the Chief himself was gone and no longer breathing down his neck.

Finch followed the direction one member had gestured in, makeshift bucket in hand. It was the one area where slaves coming together wasn't seen as suspicious. They didn't say a word to each other; gathering water and scurrying away. In a flash, only a woman remained behind trying to collect water. The reason why it took longer for her, was because she was missing a hand.

As he approached slowly, Finch picked up on droplets of sweat trickling down her face. Her body shook slightly, struggling to do the basic of tasks that she had no issue with only a day before. Finch hadn't seen the removal of her hand, but at least she had escaped with her life. But the quality of it had decreased by quite a bit.

Going from a world where he was a cherished doctor, to a position where he was a child that was otherwise none-the-wiser about his unfamiliar surroundings, meant that Finch had to watch his steps. On top of that, slaves were regarded by the members of the clan as creatures that were supposed to be subservient, no matter what. Which meant that they were given the bare minimum depending on what master they served.