This was such an odd setting, his life- turned into this. From fighter to a slave.... To... What? A dead man? He had nothing. Just what he clung to in his hand. Syn was barely clothed thanks to they saw no point in letting him have anything. Just something that kept him "decent for the eyes of the young" was all he had. Yet... Now... He had a cloak. It was weird... Feeling the fabric on his skin that wasn't made of canvas or linens. It was soft. It felt so strange. So foreign.  Not that he would be used to pleasure of material... He was a gifted slave to this girl.<br/><br/>Syn snarled a bit, "You mean the sub form. I won't show you for some time. It will be earned. My ears are pointed thanks to my birthright." He glared, "I don't know magic to hide them." He rolled his eyes but paused in his gate. Looking to the male. Peel, such a strange name. A really strange name. As he walked over he looked to the carriage. Black as coal with guilded lines of gold led his eyes over it. This girl belonged to a rich family. A very right family.<br/><br/>He dared not touch anything but accepted some help. Glancing to Peel. The man knew of the life he once led. He could see understanding in the man's eyes that made him wish he could trust him. Making himsf comfortable he sat on the floor of the carriage and curled up against the wall. Not sure what to do with himself.