<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/DcoPfKF.png)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Ilhan<br/><strong>Race/Culture:</strong>Djaffir<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, Zidir, Open<br/><hr/><br/>Some relief entered Ilhan, and Zidir could tell from his shoulders loosening, and N'ebthe could tell from his strong jaw relaxing. He rolled his jaw into her touch, surprised but not willing to have her stop. Did slaves normally touch their customers, and did slavers allow it? If she so readily accepted this, then why study him in such detail, even longing. Maybe he was a fool, and she an able partner for her master looking to secure a sale. If he told the Nefasi he would immediately free her afterward, would they both use that against him, and raise her supposed value to have him pay for idealism? Perhaps she cast a spell on him, though she would have tried and succeeded through his mask if she tried. Cradled in his arm, it had no enchantments like was common among Djaffiri masks of such quality. But his eyes were fixed, and his expression hard, as if Ilhan had another mask ready underneath.<br/><br/>He said nothing to her whisper, but stared and marveled at the color and mist in her eyes. He'd never seen their like, and if she were so talented she'd know his answer anyway. He didn't see her or anyone as lowly to begin with. And if there was one argument to chastise her error, it was that a god had touched her at birth, and no legal fiction or bag of coin was above providence. A flash of greed and curiosity flickered in his eye just then.<br/><br/>"Ibn Hajar," he called out, turning his handsome face to the slaver at the end of her chain. "I cannot stomach the air here. It's disagreeable to my focus, distracting me from what I wish to see," he explained, glancing back to N'ebthe and up and down her body in a feint as a false customer. His acting was superb, if only because Zidir was right, and she was pleasant to gaze upon from head to toe. "Surely, such a venue diminishes our sense of value. Is there no refuge for a private meeting?"