With every moment, she flinched. She didn't like this. She didn't like being looked at from beneath her hair. Even Calius never looked at her in the face. Everything was done with her head down. She had never had certain treatments but a few. Calius' favorite: Whipping. The only downfall to her beautiful tight and lean body was the small thin scars. They didn't protrude from her skin like most scars would. It simply looked as though the skin that covered her once wounded back were darker than her beautifully tan skin. She could understand the man in front of her but she wasn't sure if he would be able to understand her.<br/><br/>"Dacia. Dacian." She spoke, pointing to herself. The gypsies were famous for their dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. But not her. No sir. She had the beautiful sun kissed skin, a hair or two lighter than the pretty tan Dacian skin. Her blonde hair was a mixture of honey and the sun. In the light it was bright but in the shadows it looked almost dark strawberry-blonde. Her eyes seemed to glow from the shadows of her blonde sweet smelling locks. They were green-gray, almost like the sea on a stormy morning. She didn't even look Dacian. But she was. Well, half Dacian. Dacian-Germanic she was. But Dacia was her home.<br/><br/>(Just in case you are unsure, Dacia is today's Romania. Dacian = Romanian.)