<div class="floatleft">(http://th01.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2014/326/c/d/golden_eyes_by_reykat-d87bmu0.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Zidir<br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Hadaree<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Slave piers<br/><strong>Day/Time:</strong>Yaus al-Niwt (Day of Houses), Amt (first month) of Alak Paret (Harvest Season), Mid-Morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>N’ebthe, Ihan<br/><hr/><br/>Zidir regarded her smile and comment with a more neutral look in reply, though he could not utterly conceal the disappointment of the Djaffir leaving. That sensation did not linger long though, as he spoke the tone was again knowing and smug. "Suppose you will not, but worry not. It is entirely understandable that finding a buyer would be difficult. It is clear to them that I am not selling a cart to be used until it breaks. Those men do business elsewhere." Zidir's eyes wandered left of N'ebthe, he looked over the river of crowd towards where the smaller men did their trade. There were those pig-like noble who cared not for anything but the quality of flesh in their slaves. Pitiful things would be used until broken and discarded to die somewhere within the maze of Sha'ib. If there was weight to this trade it was from the conflict of greed, pride and pity. For now Zidir stood on this side of the market.<br/><br/>A pleasant surprise. New buyer had walked up and with obvious interest in N'ebthe. This could be the one to relieve him. The djaffir and their mysterious questions. Zidir was about to say his answer when he heard one coming from N'ebthe. The friendly composition of his smile did not falter. What others might have taken as insolence from the slave he already saw as an advantage. Nothing to boost a sell as well as the slave herself. Yes, yes, go on my girl; he urged her within his mind.<br/><br/>Zidir simply followed the exchange for while, observing it grow almost giddily. It was the furthest that anyone had really come to actually buying this one. He watched every motion and kept his ear sharp. Reading the masked men was not all that different from the rest, it was about the big picture. This was was far from the lowly nobles on the other side of the street. A man of refinement and...  he had a curiously courteous stand towards a slave.<br/><br/>"And may said blessings fall upon yourself as well," Zidir replied. He chose a less pushy and eager tone, choosing to match the man's more relaxed class. In the background, the othe Djaffir negotiating with Nafi' turned his masked face for a moment to peer towards them. It brought a brief pause to whatever the boy slave and he had been bargaining of, but went outwardly unregistered by Zidir who replied to the introduction, "Zidir ibn Hajar is pleased to have you come take such keen note of his best. He fell silent for a moment, turning the burning orbs to cast their light upon N'ebthe, waiting for her to let a name out before he continued.<br/><br/>"I take it you like what you see Ilhan, and what you hear." The slaves up there were barely garbed, given only wispy pieces that would shield neither from the sun nor the eye. The shade hanged over the platform further kept the cold morning chill lingering, though they would all be used to a little cold by now. Zidir slithered closer to Ilhan, taking a step from behind N'ebthe to stand more by his side as a fellow admirer of the slave than some master behind his merchandise. "I can tell you, N'ebthe here is the type to often shy away from the boorish buyer, she might not have my eyes but she too shares my appreciation for the company of couth. Such class is, as you know, a rarer quality in slaves these days. Some would feel lesser when faced by such attitude, but is that not simply admitting that they were already small?"<br/><br/>Some of the other slaves had scurried away a little. They had been told to make space when Zidir was selling and they did. Almost a meter space opened around N'ebthe so that she would stand alone in spotlight. "There is more to her though, than simply grace. Story behind it, oh..." His smile took on an almost innocent shade as if this was actually a fond memory of his. "She is a mystic of Nefasi race in possession of powers, more than the insight you already saw. This one dabbles in spirits and healing. A true shaman whose soul has not been degraded a single grain. It is difficult to measure the value of this."