<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Altair listened if only because it would answer if he was allowed to leave. No, apparently, and he didn't quite believe Cygnus when he said he wouldn't hurt him more than he already had. Altair was about as lively as a doll with Cygnus moving him, weak, and unwilling to call upon what little strength he might have been able to muster. He didn't even have words for his goddess in that moment. He laid him across the chairs instead, and his unease compounded, half expecting Cygnus to lure him into a false sense of security just so that he didn't expect it when he did something horrible to him. Instead, Cygnus sat on the floor in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
Surprisingly, it seemed he only meant to provide him nourishment. If Cygnus was going to expect gratitude for this, he was going to be disappointed. There would be no thanks for finally remembering to feed him after two days. Altair might have understood the day of the ship, but in his current state, he was feeling the effects of having gone without. Realization hit him in the next few moments, especially as he watched Cygnus prepare the food.<br/>
<br/>
“We're close to land,” Altair stated, rather than asked. That had to be the case, if Cygnus was being conscious of getting food into him. Maybe he'd be left alone, to recover the damage done to his body, even. Cygnus had said he wouldn't hurt him more than he already had. Maybe he wasn't so stupid as to think he could gain the same amount of coin for a thin, beaten slave as he was going to for a healthy, spry one. The notion filled Altair with both a happiness, and an unease. On one hand he hoped they were still far enough away he could regain a little bit of his lost self, on the other, he didn't want to spend one more moment on that stinking ship than he had to.<br/>
<br/>
Drinking was simpler than anything else Cygnus had asked of him, though he would have preferred water than whatever it was he was providing. Some type of brew, but not overly strong. It quenched his thirst, and that was what mattered. Altair lifted his head to tilt it back, allowing Cygnus to pour the liquid between his parched lips. He gave no thanks; no words at all. Even with the food. His words got him in trouble, and days before he might have told Cygnus anything was better than his vile cock, but apparently he'd learned something after being beaten, raped, and flogged. Not too much longer, Altair hoped. He just had to suffer though in silence until they finally reached where they were going, and hopefully Cygnus would sell him to a halfway decent master.<br/>
<br/>
Altair ate slowly, at first not hungry, but once his body processed he was putting something back into it, he felt ravenous. It didn't make him forget his training, and he picked at it carefully. He was never one to complain about food, even with simple fare. Generally, Altair wasn't one to complain at all so long as he was awarded the basics of simple human decency.<br/>
<br/>
“I have not heard many Dusanians speak of Weiss at all, nor have I met a Weiss slave. Maybe they do not allow them to be exported?” Altair questioned, the food, and the idea of other possibilities raising his spirits. Enough so that he found it important he might continue to gather information that would be useful to him. Likely he would be considered a rarity among them, which would hopefully drive up his cost. People who would pay good amounts of money for him didn't tend to damage him so badly.</span></span>