There was nothing inherently barbaric about the whip; it was made to split skin but it didn't have the bone breaking capability that his four other whips had. Rather, the scent of blood came from elsewhere... a vile bearer. While the other four whips may have rarely seen usage by their original bearers, with the two cat o' nine tails seeing sporadic usage since he had retrieved them from warships, this onyx whip he had taken from the most beastly fighter he had seen in his days. The wood that made the ship of the beast fighter was stained a deep mahogany, of unwashable blood and shit of the many slaves that would've likely seen a voyage upon its decks. It was a whip that had tasted the salt of many backs, not a whip with brutal weaponry. Had it not for Cygnus leaving his dagger in the beast's belly, he'd imagine that the whip would've continued to drink slave's blood.<br/><br/>The despair of the slave before him was enticing, and the skin of Altair's black, pearly white and unblemished, called for the whip to scar it. He closed his eye, sighing in pleasure at the begging. If only Altair had been better with him before - he wouldn't be tasting the leather, would he? With all that Altair insulted him for, Cygnus was tempted to rebuke the little mercy that the fair-haired man had "earned", but he staved off that temptation; unsavoury though Cygnus might be, he would not go back on his word lightly. Twenty strokes was initially what he planned - a mercy in its own right already - but he had halved it. For the cleaning that was begrudgingly performed. But he would not give Altair the mercy of silence, no; customarily, a gag would be given so that he could stifle his cries. Not in this case, however.<br/><br/>The ship swayed as men scurried about, and the slaves held below the deck were brought up, forced to their knees a distance from the mast to observe the whipping. For the whipping all three ships were anchored, and all of his crew came to watch. Still Altair begged for mercy, promising that he would behave. But Cygnus would not let him off, for this was going to be a lesson to all of the slaves. To not cross the Captain or they would choke on their own wails. Did he particularly care about the 'loss' of Altair's worth? No. After some quiet thought he realized that any scars would not matter - Weiss was far too cold for Altair to expose as much skin as he did now. Any of his scars would be hidden, and the scratch on his face would become a white remnant of its scarlet now.<br/><br/>Cygnus stepped forward to the slave, pressing his mouth against the slave's ear. "<i>Altair. </i>You made a terrible mistake, and that was wronging me. I rarely take insults lightly, and you are certainly not one of the few that escape unscathed. You are one of the few that escape with mercy. Now is the time you may beg for mercy before I make you count to ten. Charm me with your Dusanian, little lion. Before I give you the stripes of a tiger." he whispered cruelly. "Rest assured that when I'm done with you, you won't be dead. But you may regret living. I may even be kind and bind you to the figurehead of this ship if you continue with your path of obstinate resistance, so that you may taste the salt of the waves you so desire to dive into..." Cygnus touched the handle of the whip to the slave's cheek, letting out a hoarse growl. Perhaps if the slave begged well enough, Cygnus would reduce his sentence to five lashes.