<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Altair went along as best he could, holding to Cygnus' wrist to limit the pressure on his scalp, but also to help hold himself upright as he was half-dragged. Cygnus started speaking to him again once they were alone, and Altair found it difficult to focus on his words. He couldn't process what had just happened. He was glad he couldn't see his own back. Cygnus could not convince him that he'd not just been ruined.<br/>
<br/>
“Your benefactor?” Altair repeated, wondering then if Cygnus already had plans on who to sell him to. Someone who might not care what state he was in. Perhaps someone just as bad a Cygnus, who would want to add stripes of his own. Altair certainly didn't like the prospect of Weiss, and it's threatening cold. He'd never been anywhere that wasn't temperate, where he could dress in airy silks. Maybe though, this would be a blessing. Maybe he was being sold to someone who had no desire in his body at all, but someone who wanted a skilled slave for some other sort of task. Dusanian slaves were well known for their versatility. <br/>
<br/>
Altair was mostly quiet though, choosing to refrain from saying anything at all for fear he would say the wrong thing. This fear was a new thing for him, something he was trying to process, and react to accordingly. He'd never known it. Cygnus was the first man to give him reason to be afraid of something. He'd laid down, watching carefully as Cygnus left him. Hoping that he would leave him for the night, but he returned. With strips of linen, and he urged Altair up again. The slave groaned in the effort, but Cygnus gave him few options, and shifted him around as he bandaged him. He hoped it would be enough. He had no idea about treating such grotesque wounds, and he realized even if he did know how, he wouldn't be able to treat them himself since they were in such a hard to reach area. <br/>
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“Does it make you feel more powerful to try to make this my fault?” Altair questioned back rhetorically, and like a beaten dog, he flinched as soon as the words were out. That flash of anger had coiled in his stomach like acid, especially at the notion that he'd deserved this. Pride or not, he'd done nothing to earn this sort of mistreatment. Cygnus was cruel, and felt satisfaction at damaging something that had no power to fight back. He had no respect at all for this man, just hatred and fear now, but likely Cygnus would confuse the two and think he'd been whipped into subservience. That seed of vengeance was on his mind, and while he was in no shape to tend it now, he knew this would not go on forgotten. <br/>
<br/>
“Are you satisfied with what you've accomplished?” Altair wondered, because he was failing to see the point besides outdated barbarianism. His voice was dry and weak, not holding the same confidence as it had before, rather, he asked in a more solemn way.</span></span>