Ezra took a surprised step back as Reis jumped up. When his master's fingers wrapped around his wrist, he looked down, admiring the contrast of Reis' pale skin against his darker olive tone. Master's fingers were long and delicate, the kind of fingers one would expect from a musician or artist. Back on Tuloa, men with fingers like Reis' were called<i>shasi'ia</i>. A rough translation in Master's language would have been “gift makers,” those who created things for the joy of others. Ezra thought Reis' hands beautiful, but he didn't have long to think on this before Reis was pulling him at a rushed pace down the hallway and through a large decorative door to an outside enclosure.<br/><br/>The stress in Reis' body flowed from the tips of his fingers and singed Ezra's skin, making him wish that his master would release him so he didn't have to feel the man's irritation. The Asha mewled lightly as Reis dragged him around, pointing out the agitated cats and explaining to Ezra how they were somehow better than him although they could not speak, they could not clean or cook or fuck, except with one another. How could cats who did nothing other than stay in an enclosure all day, pacing back and forth anxiously, defensively, be better pets? Ezra tried to understand his master's reasoning, but no matter how he twisted the words inside his head, Reis' words made no sense to him. Reis seemed incensed by the thought that Ezra had been trained. He had been given instructions on what to say, what to do, how to please his human, but Reis didn't want any of that. How was Ezra supposed to please Reis when everything Ezra was groomed to be offended him?<br/><br/>Relief washed over Ezra when he was released from Reis' grasp, although he felt sick to his stomach from his master's exasperation. He held onto his silence as Reis continued to speak to him, his head bowed low and long curls blocking his face. From the way Reis spoke, it appeared that Master had no desire to interact with him. Talking was not something that pleased Master, Ezra's appearance did not please him. Reis was a grumpy and captious man; Ezra wondered if he could ever manage to bring a smile to his attractive countenance.<br/><br/>Clanking metal encouraged the Asha to lift his head slightly to witness Reis shaking the chains, condescending to him as if Ezra were dim. “I know what a lock means,” Ezra replied bluntly, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why did Master believe Ezra to be so simple? Did all people in his homeland share this opinion of Asha? Ezra could converse with others, perform both simple and complex tasks, if taught correctly (Ezra was a very quick learner). Ezra knew next to nothing about Belmir, save for its sad, turbulent ocean, but that did not mean he was feeble minded. Did his sellers tell Reis he was stupid? Why would they do such a thing?<br/><br/>Although Reis seemed a testy man, he did not appear unkind. He vowed to take care of Ezra, and perhaps that was a decent enough start, though the Asha was already becoming forlorn at the thought of not having the adoration he so desperately craved. He made a strange sound then, a sound that could never come from a human. It was a similar to a sigh, perhaps, but it was reminiscent of rain falling upon the leaves of a large tree just overhead. The Tuloan Asha called the sound<i>ya'lunahto, </i>and it was the music of sadness, of resignation and pain. Reis didn't know it yet, and whether he would ever manage to figure it out would be up to him, as Ezra had no desire to try to explain in his language what his oral expulsions meant just then.<br/><br/>“I want to stay outside,” Ezra said slowly, looking away from the cats and down the expansive pathways that led to various gardens around the property. “By flowers. And trees. My keepers said you must have, what is the phrase? A lamp of sun, because you do not get much light here, and no sunlight makes me sick and weak.”<br/><br/>The air smelled delightful to Ezra, thick with life, the scent of thriving plants and small wild animals that were bound to be burrowing throughout the rich dirt where the flowerbeds sat. Although Ezra found Master's house to be lovely to look it, out here felt so much more agreeable. Perhaps happiness could be found here, among the fresh air and the animals that Master liked so much more than him.<br/><br/>“Mother said it was very important that I only eat fruit and vegetables from Tuloa. They must be imported, she said.” His eyes darted around curiously as he spoke, fingers reaching out to touch various petals and stroke them affectionately. “I get sick otherwise. Very sick. I might die. If I die, you will have wasted a great amount of money, isn't that so, Master?”<br/><br/>Ezra paused now, his eyes glued to a particularly enchanting purple flower with seven petals and a dark red center. “Mother also said that when I enter my heat, I must mate regularly, daily preferred. But I do not know exactly what that means, only that it is supposed to happen soon, as I am in my prime. That's what the seller called it, 'sexual prime.' Maybe there is information in the care instructions that you do not trust.”<br/><br/>Tearing away his gaze, Ezra turned back to Reis and looked at him intently, his plump lips parted as he searched for the words. “Are you always so distrusting of words? I find them very helpful. You can learn many things from the words of others that you did not know before. Sometimes eyes lie, like when you think you see an animal in the distance but it is only a plant dancing with the breeze. Touch can be confusing, too, but words . . . they are usually nice. Even when they sound ugly, or they are coming from mean people. Why you do not like them, that confuses me, Master.”<br/><br/>The sound again, the pouring rain in Ezra's throat. He did not like to make that sound, but he felt compelled to utter it as a sadness clutched at his chest. Maybe the flowers would help. Or the sun, if it ever stopped being shy and came out from behind the clouds.