14 Ash, 121
Rivin woke from the dream, sickened, keeping his eyes closed and trying to convince himself that the acid running through his veins was anger rather than fear. He spent the rest of his day hiding in his room, sleeping to make up for the added exhaustion the night sleep had given him, not eating, drinking only water, and burying himself in the books he'd borrowed. The worry that the doctor might call for him, and how Rivin would react to seeing him just then, were the only things he allowed to plague his mind through the long hours. When it was dark, he gave up trying and went back to sleep. Undressing properly and putting out all the nights except the fire, crackling it the room's hearth. Lying to himself that it had been accidentally falling asleep dressed and with a light on what been what triggered the dreams, he went about the little rituals of preparing for bed that he thought of like talismans against the memories.
When, at last, he drifted to sleep beneath the bedclothes he did rest. Whether his superstitious formula had worked, or he was only too tired to dream much of anything did not matter.
When he awoke he was better rested, feeling rejuvenated and ready to go about his life. He called for fruit juice, if there was any, this late in the season (there was) and once it had been drunk he made his way to the courtyard. The morning was brisk and blustering, declaring its intent to rip the brightly colored leaves from their branches with all speed. Rivin started by running the circuit of the yard until his lungs were burning as much as his legs, then he moved on to the push-ups and other calisthenics his mother had started him on learning some twenty years earlier. He could handstand on just one palm now, and vault from it to the other, or back onto his feet, if he chose. There was no one watching today, so flashy moves were not his goal. Once the cardio and basic strength work were completed he moved into one of the sets of movements, done as slowly as possible that he had also learned from his only known relative. The sequence took almost an hour if done in its entirety, like a very slow dance, intended to build grace and power into his core. He was soaked through his clothes and not the least bit cold by the time he finished. Ready for a bath.
Trotting down to the bath he chatted with his currently assigned guard. There would be two, with a backup to account for illness or other emergencies, but the one who watched over the property that was Rivin at night wasn't one he often encountered, any more than he did the spare. So, here he thought of the man who followed him, or led him when he didn't know the way somewhere, as 'his' guard. The man was intended to keep him from escaping or breaking any of the rules set by Dr. Ilex, but just as much he was to stop him from being stolen or damaged in an attack or through some accident. It was an interesting relationship; he was instructed to give Rivin anything he asked for within the bounds of his captivity, and so was like a servant, yet, he was also supposed to stop Rivin from doing those things which were forbidden, so he was like a master. The slave tried his best to build an equitable relationship with the men who had his care entrusted to them, with more or less success depending on the temperament of the man.
This one was new, had only appeared when they had moved to this new house, so Rivin only had a basic idea of him, based mostly on observation. The burly man was younger than most of his guards, or, perhaps as Rivin stepped fully into his adulthood the men only seemed younger because they had remained within the same age range while he had changed. He was a human, a few years older than his charge, with a bored expression but an attentive nature. He had likely not heard Rivin thrashing and possibly screaming in the throws of his dreamed memories two nights prior, as the night guard would have been on duty, but he might know of it. The guards reported to the doctor, but what Ilex told them in return was not something Rivin had ever been able to gauge.
The sweat felt colder on his body once it began to cool from the movement, and he made his way quickly back to his room for a fresh set of clothing and then down into the heated baths. He knew better than to offer the guard a place in the tub beside him. Unless the man was significantly different than the ones who had proceeded him he would not take any offer Rivin made, be that food, trinkets, money, a seat, or a comfortable bath. None of them had even seemed interested in his slim, tight body. Some of the guests Dr. Ilex brought to speak to him or observe the experiment had not been so untouched by the sight of him, but nothing ever came of their looks of appreciation or interest. Even when they had directly propositioned him or inquired with the doctor as to his availability for their use. Rivin's sexuality was not something for sale, it was for use as part of the experiment, and nothing more. Even personal experimentation was strongly discouraged. Rivin had learned to keep his hands to himself and away from himself.
As he soaked in the tub, he let his mind wander to what had come after the events of the dream, let the good things that came from the bad draw the poison from his thoughts and his heart. Closing his eyes he leaned back and let his body float.
~~~~
His mother had taken over care of him from the guards as soon as he'd been taken back to his cell, ensuring he was arranged in a position that would allow him to sleep she petted his hair and sang to him until he slipped from the agony of consciousness to the kindness of oblivion. He must have slept hard, and she must have called for herbs and other treatments, for, when he woke, almost the entire backside of his body had been washed and rubbed down with ointments that would aid in the healing of the bruises that blackened his skin. Moving beyond his head, hands, and feet hurt blindingly at first, so he did not. His mother fed him like she had when he'd been a baby, except he was allowed to chew for himself, and told him stories of the races and others he'd enjoyed when they'd lived in the cell together. After a few days, he told her he was allowed to ask for books, that the doctor had said he was allowed. She was skeptical to the point of not believing him at first, but she had at least asked the guard, who confirmed Rivin's right to be given things to read. Something about this knowledge made his mother look at him differently, as though, despite his exceptional stupidity he had still managed to gain something of great value from the situation but she wasn't entirely sure if he'd done it on purpose or was only quite lucky.
She asked what sorts of books he wanted, and he asked what sorts there were. Realizing his ignorance was too great to make the choices being asked of him his mother had asked for him. At first the guards had brought him simple books with drawings in them. He saw birds and animals for the first time, learned their names and basic facts about them from both the text and his mother. He healed enough to be able to stand up and walk around, though sitting on laying on his back were still unbearable. He took to laying on his belly before the hearth for hours, or in the sunspot created by the window, pouring over the slim volumes. When he grew bored with this he asked for books about some of the kingdoms or peoples his mother had talked about. She was smart enough to ask for an atlas along with some books of basic history.
The atlas was a wonder for him. The first day he had looked through it for some time before asking his mother to show him where they lived. When she had pointed out the Imperium, and then the tiny spot that marked the city in which they were housed, at first, he did not believe her. Thinking she was playing a joke on him he had laughed. But she had been serious. The vastness of the world began to seed into the mind of the boy who had been raised in a single small room, and then a very limited amount of space in a small manor. Realizing that the manor was a tiny part of a small city on the outskirts of a country that was only one among many, many others on a continent that was only one of several in the world, was a revolution that took Rivin a long time to process. He ignored the histories at first, spending all his time pouring over the atlas' pages, searching for what he knew not, but gaining an understanding of the firmament upon which life existed.
Rivin woke from the dream, sickened, keeping his eyes closed and trying to convince himself that the acid running through his veins was anger rather than fear. He spent the rest of his day hiding in his room, sleeping to make up for the added exhaustion the night sleep had given him, not eating, drinking only water, and burying himself in the books he'd borrowed. The worry that the doctor might call for him, and how Rivin would react to seeing him just then, were the only things he allowed to plague his mind through the long hours. When it was dark, he gave up trying and went back to sleep. Undressing properly and putting out all the nights except the fire, crackling it the room's hearth. Lying to himself that it had been accidentally falling asleep dressed and with a light on what been what triggered the dreams, he went about the little rituals of preparing for bed that he thought of like talismans against the memories.
When, at last, he drifted to sleep beneath the bedclothes he did rest. Whether his superstitious formula had worked, or he was only too tired to dream much of anything did not matter.
When he awoke he was better rested, feeling rejuvenated and ready to go about his life. He called for fruit juice, if there was any, this late in the season (there was) and once it had been drunk he made his way to the courtyard. The morning was brisk and blustering, declaring its intent to rip the brightly colored leaves from their branches with all speed. Rivin started by running the circuit of the yard until his lungs were burning as much as his legs, then he moved on to the push-ups and other calisthenics his mother had started him on learning some twenty years earlier. He could handstand on just one palm now, and vault from it to the other, or back onto his feet, if he chose. There was no one watching today, so flashy moves were not his goal. Once the cardio and basic strength work were completed he moved into one of the sets of movements, done as slowly as possible that he had also learned from his only known relative. The sequence took almost an hour if done in its entirety, like a very slow dance, intended to build grace and power into his core. He was soaked through his clothes and not the least bit cold by the time he finished. Ready for a bath.
Trotting down to the bath he chatted with his currently assigned guard. There would be two, with a backup to account for illness or other emergencies, but the one who watched over the property that was Rivin at night wasn't one he often encountered, any more than he did the spare. So, here he thought of the man who followed him, or led him when he didn't know the way somewhere, as 'his' guard. The man was intended to keep him from escaping or breaking any of the rules set by Dr. Ilex, but just as much he was to stop him from being stolen or damaged in an attack or through some accident. It was an interesting relationship; he was instructed to give Rivin anything he asked for within the bounds of his captivity, and so was like a servant, yet, he was also supposed to stop Rivin from doing those things which were forbidden, so he was like a master. The slave tried his best to build an equitable relationship with the men who had his care entrusted to them, with more or less success depending on the temperament of the man.
This one was new, had only appeared when they had moved to this new house, so Rivin only had a basic idea of him, based mostly on observation. The burly man was younger than most of his guards, or, perhaps as Rivin stepped fully into his adulthood the men only seemed younger because they had remained within the same age range while he had changed. He was a human, a few years older than his charge, with a bored expression but an attentive nature. He had likely not heard Rivin thrashing and possibly screaming in the throws of his dreamed memories two nights prior, as the night guard would have been on duty, but he might know of it. The guards reported to the doctor, but what Ilex told them in return was not something Rivin had ever been able to gauge.
The sweat felt colder on his body once it began to cool from the movement, and he made his way quickly back to his room for a fresh set of clothing and then down into the heated baths. He knew better than to offer the guard a place in the tub beside him. Unless the man was significantly different than the ones who had proceeded him he would not take any offer Rivin made, be that food, trinkets, money, a seat, or a comfortable bath. None of them had even seemed interested in his slim, tight body. Some of the guests Dr. Ilex brought to speak to him or observe the experiment had not been so untouched by the sight of him, but nothing ever came of their looks of appreciation or interest. Even when they had directly propositioned him or inquired with the doctor as to his availability for their use. Rivin's sexuality was not something for sale, it was for use as part of the experiment, and nothing more. Even personal experimentation was strongly discouraged. Rivin had learned to keep his hands to himself and away from himself.
As he soaked in the tub, he let his mind wander to what had come after the events of the dream, let the good things that came from the bad draw the poison from his thoughts and his heart. Closing his eyes he leaned back and let his body float.
~~~~
His mother had taken over care of him from the guards as soon as he'd been taken back to his cell, ensuring he was arranged in a position that would allow him to sleep she petted his hair and sang to him until he slipped from the agony of consciousness to the kindness of oblivion. He must have slept hard, and she must have called for herbs and other treatments, for, when he woke, almost the entire backside of his body had been washed and rubbed down with ointments that would aid in the healing of the bruises that blackened his skin. Moving beyond his head, hands, and feet hurt blindingly at first, so he did not. His mother fed him like she had when he'd been a baby, except he was allowed to chew for himself, and told him stories of the races and others he'd enjoyed when they'd lived in the cell together. After a few days, he told her he was allowed to ask for books, that the doctor had said he was allowed. She was skeptical to the point of not believing him at first, but she had at least asked the guard, who confirmed Rivin's right to be given things to read. Something about this knowledge made his mother look at him differently, as though, despite his exceptional stupidity he had still managed to gain something of great value from the situation but she wasn't entirely sure if he'd done it on purpose or was only quite lucky.
She asked what sorts of books he wanted, and he asked what sorts there were. Realizing his ignorance was too great to make the choices being asked of him his mother had asked for him. At first the guards had brought him simple books with drawings in them. He saw birds and animals for the first time, learned their names and basic facts about them from both the text and his mother. He healed enough to be able to stand up and walk around, though sitting on laying on his back were still unbearable. He took to laying on his belly before the hearth for hours, or in the sunspot created by the window, pouring over the slim volumes. When he grew bored with this he asked for books about some of the kingdoms or peoples his mother had talked about. She was smart enough to ask for an atlas along with some books of basic history.
The atlas was a wonder for him. The first day he had looked through it for some time before asking his mother to show him where they lived. When she had pointed out the Imperium, and then the tiny spot that marked the city in which they were housed, at first, he did not believe her. Thinking she was playing a joke on him he had laughed. But she had been serious. The vastness of the world began to seed into the mind of the boy who had been raised in a single small room, and then a very limited amount of space in a small manor. Realizing that the manor was a tiny part of a small city on the outskirts of a country that was only one among many, many others on a continent that was only one of several in the world, was a revolution that took Rivin a long time to process. He ignored the histories at first, spending all his time pouring over the atlas' pages, searching for what he knew not, but gaining an understanding of the firmament upon which life existed.
