<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Altair watched Cygnus as he gave his direction, and he chose to heed him. For once, he really didn't have anything to say if he wanted to, and it wasn't like he had anywhere to go either. He'd never been inclined to run, but if he was on land, and in better health, he might have given it thought. If opportunity presented itself.. But a ship in the middle of the ocean limited him a great deal, and wherever Altair went to hide, Cygnus would find him. He toyed with the idea, wondering how long he might have been able to keep it up. If any of the crew would give him away since they obviously were weary of him. He was too weak to do anything other than follow Cygnus' orders, remaining in a crumpled heap until Cygnus returned, dreading what was to come. He hoped Cygnus didn't intend to whip him again.<br/>
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Cygnus was restraining him to the mass, and Altair had to wonder why. Likely he could have told him to remain in that spot all day and Altair would have complied. For show, maybe? To Altair, it signified more a lack of control than it did the opposite. At the beginning Altair might have fretted over such a heavy and harsh instrument used against him. It would scrape his skin, and given much length of time it would mark him. It hardly mattered now though, as Cygnus was kind enough to point out. His back was tight and uncomfortable, and it felt wrong. Like he was wearing someone elses skin. He was in denial it was his own, and he hoped he never had to look at himself, much less show another his shame again. There was nothing to be done for the scratch mark on his face except to hope that it wouldn't scar. He didn't think the bruises would fade by the time they reached where they were going. He would certainly be a sight for his new master.. <br/>
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“You may wish to bring me a shawl, or something to cover with. My skin will burn if you leave me beneath the sun. If I blister you'll have a hard time convincing any master that I'm not plagued,” Altair told him because he had no idea how long Cygnus planned on leaving him tied to the mast. His fingers felt the wood beneath him, and he wondered if his blood and piss had been cleaned up, or it had been washed away by the sea during the storm. “While you have little care about adding scars that can be hidden, my fair skin isn't used to prolonged exposure to the sun.” He wondered if Cygnus would beat him for this, but he decided he'd rather him be angry and get him something to cover with than bring upon himself anything else that might make him appear more unsightly. <br/>
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“If you would, Master,” he added carefully; deliberate. Everything he'd said was deliberate, not sniveling but trying to remain free of emotion completely so that Cygnus would not draw his own conclusions. His heart was still hammering away, always on edge with what the Captain might decide to do next. Absently, Altair's long fingers caressed the chain, getting a feel for it's weight and length. He wouldn't be going far, that was for sure.</span></span>