<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">“You've been the only master that has taken such issue. Perhaps it is your own error, and not mine that you fail to wield me properly. Rest assured, no master has crawled before my feet, and I've willingly submitted to the will of many; just not you.” Cygnus had apparently offended him. He wasn't incapable at all. “You plucked me like a fruit, not yet ripe. It is your own fault I taste sour upon your lips.” Altair likely would have warmed to him in time, if he'd given him any of it. The shock of being raped for the first time had made him resistant, difficult, and then he turned foul when he was made to endure a constant state of pain. There had been no respite. Truly, his behavior would have gotten him punished with a Dusanian master, but at the same time one had never given him reason to be so openly hostile. You caught more bees with honey, but with Cygnus, it didn't matter how sweet he was being. He'd admitted he just preferred to hear him scream, and so there was no incentive for Altair to behave at all.<br/>
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“You would have ruined the most obedient of slaves, I'm sure.” Perhaps Altair had been spoilt in some ways, but that could have been easily rectified with some consistency. He didn't need to be flogged over his quick mouth; Dusanians often preferred someone witty over someone dull, and they were not usually trained to withstand suffering in silence.<br/>
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Cygnus seemed a little surprised when he didn't play his game and put the final nail in his coffin to seal his pride away, unattainable forever. Altair's heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't help take a single step away from Cygnus when he drew close. He would have never broken form before all this when standing and addressing his master, but he did truly fear Cygnus. He couldn't hide that from the man, despite wishing it so. He reached out and took hold of his limp cock and Altair's breathing increased in a way that had nothing to do with arousal. He reminded him of his plans, and the idea that he was going to be sold to a man in Weiss who would kill him. Altair curled his body, placing his hands on Cygnus' arm as he tightened his hold on his genitals. He sucked in a sharp breath and then held it, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. When Cygnus let go, Altair dropped like a sack of rocks, long legs crumbling beneath him like a leggy foal that hadn't found it's balance. He'd barely had the energy to stand, and even that had faded fast. Altair was looking to the floor.<br/>
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“So be it. If my goddess had decided that I must die to serve her purpose, it must be so. She would not have me sell my soul to you in order to barter for my life. You may yet make me a martyr.” If anyone learned about his slaughter, anyway. Truthfully, he was terrified of the prospect of death, but if he was meant to avoid it, his goddess would see that he had the tools to do so. Cygnus himself said his fate was his to craft, and Altair believed that. There had to be more options once he was out of Cygnus' grasp.<br/>
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Once Cygnus was gone, Altair sat for a long while. Eventually, he went to finish the food provided, and he did take find the book to continue his writing. He could have torn Cygnus' cabin apart, he realized. He was mouthy, and a bit defiant, but not entirely stupid. It wasn't a thought that crossed his mind for long, even if he did have the energy for it. He wished he had the ability to draw. He feared that the images of his masters before all this were fading, replaced with the face of Cygnus instead. Altair wrote out a list explaining all that had occurred to him, in a very matter of fact, unbiased manner while he'd been on that ship. At least if for some reason if it ever reached Dusanian land someone could be outraged at the rape of their culture.</span></span>