The market was a last resort.<br/>It always had been, against the auction houses. The slim and tragic choice one had here was little more than laughable. Good humans, the oneâ€™s in their prime, still with shiny hair and glassy eyes went typically to the auction house, no stops on the way, the kind of creatures one tended to stumble across (or trip over. Quite literally he had foundâ€¦) here came in a quart shop variety of ills. Most were old and easier to catch due to it, others were sickly looking, their colours off peak, their skin scabbing or wounding, their eyes milky and clouded (and the money one would have to spend chasing up a good veteran certainly made up the difference one would have spent in auction!) this was where the dregs got sent so that young demons could take their pocket money and PRETEND like they were someone.<br/>But sometimes, just sometimes, a diamond would emerge from the rough.<br/>Like a flea market, good items snuck in unnoticed and unappreciated of their true value.<br/>And Naeth prided himself on having an eye for these types of humans.<br/><br/>He rounded another corner, cloak whipping out behind him. Naeth had a flair for dramatics and expensive taste, more than once some scallywag eyes his clothes, the feather collared travelling coat, the imported silver buckled boots, silk shirts and well groomed hair, nothing on him worth less than 100 ducats, especially the hair, wondering how much they could scab off of this stranger were they to mug him, but he wore something else that gave them pause for second thought.<br/><br/>A necklace made of small bones, animal or childrenâ€™s was anyoneâ€™s guess and a hip holster, customised for not only weaponry, but many a small bottle and pouch, trademark of a mage and since there wasnâ€™t much money in the artful craft, a rich mage must surely have been a brutal oneâ€¦<br/><br/>Naeth ignored the glances. These predators were small fish worthy to no more swill around his ankles, if they were stupid enough to attack, theyâ€™d either have to be blind or heâ€™d kill them for ignoring the numerous warnings heâ€™d put out. Maybe after asking them if theyâ€™d seen any half decent humans for saleâ€¦. The ones heâ€™d seen so far he wouldnâ€™t have fed to the dogs! Heavens forbid it would poison them!<br/><br/>"Human for sale! A 17 year old beauty with not a violent bone in her body! 500 ducats starting bid!"<br/><br/>17â€¦ Naeth paused in his tracks and someone almost walked right into his backâ€”DEAR GODDESS he HATED markets! After shooting them a quick warning hiss he weaved through the crowds to the small cluster of shanty stalls. 17 was a good age, not young enough that puberty was going to be an issue. Last thing anyone needed was a â€˜rebellingâ€™ human pup! But not too old that they couldnâ€™t be trainedâ€¦<br/><br/>The human, female unfortunately, but beggars couldnâ€™t be choosers, looked a little on the wild side, she was slim, perhaps slightly underfed, and a little rough around the edges. If sheâ€™d seen the same treatment any other valuable did by the cack-handed swine running the market, then she was probably looking at a weekâ€™s worth of mal-treatment and man handling, but that could be solved.<br/><br/>A purr of a noise esc aped from between his lips. She wasnâ€™t bad, a little scrawny, but there was certainly a strange kind of potential there, â€œLet me see,â€ he stepped forwards from the crowd, not that he didnâ€™t stand out already, at 6â€™4 he was already a beacon in most gatherings.<br/>He crossed the space between them and cupped the girls chin in one hand, giving her head a bit of a sharp pull upwards to look her in the eye, always a good start, sickness tended to show up in them first. They were a pleasant, if not startling colour, very unnatural. Only humans and dogs could have eyes so blue, the closest demon equivalent was grey, not unlike his own. Perhaps she cou--<br/><br/>â€œDonâ€™t touch the merchandise! You break it you buy it!â€ the seller snapped, looking downright aghast. Nae shut him up with one flat look, he didnâ€™t have time to be taking grief from petty salesmen, â€œIâ€™m a serious buyer,â€ he scowled, letting a little stray magic distort his voice a little, let this buffoon know what he was dealing with here, certainly not letting go of the girl, â€œNOT a hobbyist or a collector! I like to inspect my goods<span style="font-style: italic">before</span>I purchase! You look for bruises on fruit, do you not?!â€<br/><br/>He glanced back at her, gaze poking and prodding throughout the length of her slim form, â€œStrip,â€ he demanded pleasantly, as thought it was an everyday occurrence, and let go, patiently, if not expectantly, waiting.