06-22-2017, 02:13 AM
((Heck yes ^^! Let's have some fun!))
Bids were flying out so fast it was hard to keep up, with all the arms waving frantically at the auctioneer. Rigiel tried to place identities to the faces amidst the confusion, but it was such a great flurry that even his cool was starting to crumble, the shouts and yells piercing through his ears, slowly flattening against his skull to try and drown out the noise. The tip of his tail twitched lightly, the tension in his movements growing as the pitch of the roaring crowd continued to increase. Rigiel was already ill-suited for closed places with a lot of people. The shouting, the overabundance of patrons, the whole situation was starting to overwhelm him. It'd been lively before, sure, but all this confusion surrounding the usually lonesome snow leopard was more than enough to drive him up the wall, to the point he soon tasted his own blood from biting down so hard on the inside of his lower lip. He closed his eyes, swallowing dry. The screech of a hawk stood out, probably as distressed as Rigiel was. Endure. He had to endure. It was his role, it was what he'd bargained for. Just a bit more.
Suddenly, a chorus of protests cut through the excitement, and exclamations of disappointment rose from some of the bidders, though it seemed to be settled fast. Whatever had happened, it appeared to Rigiel had little wiggle room to be contested.
"Sold for two-thousand Yara! To the no-nonsense gentleman!"
Two-thousand??? Rigiel's eyes snapped open, shocked. That was a small fortune! Even his mouth went a little ajar, glancing to the auctioneer. He was pointing straight in front of them, to who he assumed was the buyer. At first he saw the hawk, rust feathers all fluffed and on edge. Then the golden wild mane. Rigiel didn't recognize this man, and wasn't sure if he should. Not only had the chaos utterly frazzled the oracle, the tight lock on his Sight did a number on him, filling his memory with images and events he couldn't string together. At least, despite the momentary protests, the thunderous announcement had chilled the environment, the screaming beginning to die down into a conversation level buzz. Still uncomfortable, but a lot more tolerable.
Before he could gawk any longer, Rigiel felt a tug on his neck, the thin chain on his collar pulling him down from the stand, to the back of the structure to wait for his new Master to pick him up.
"Thank you, and thank you all, the auction is now closed! The next one will be tomorrow at Bren..." In just a few steps even the drivel of the auctioneer faded into imperceptibility, a sense of closure and dread settling within the youth. Who knew if he'd ever see the snowy peaks of his home again? And what lay in his future? It'd once been almost set in stone, until the Deliah name was dragged into the mud. Now, Rigiel, who'd once divined the fates for others, couldn't even tell what his own would be. It all depended on the one who'd bought him, the one he now awaited with baited breath.
Bids were flying out so fast it was hard to keep up, with all the arms waving frantically at the auctioneer. Rigiel tried to place identities to the faces amidst the confusion, but it was such a great flurry that even his cool was starting to crumble, the shouts and yells piercing through his ears, slowly flattening against his skull to try and drown out the noise. The tip of his tail twitched lightly, the tension in his movements growing as the pitch of the roaring crowd continued to increase. Rigiel was already ill-suited for closed places with a lot of people. The shouting, the overabundance of patrons, the whole situation was starting to overwhelm him. It'd been lively before, sure, but all this confusion surrounding the usually lonesome snow leopard was more than enough to drive him up the wall, to the point he soon tasted his own blood from biting down so hard on the inside of his lower lip. He closed his eyes, swallowing dry. The screech of a hawk stood out, probably as distressed as Rigiel was. Endure. He had to endure. It was his role, it was what he'd bargained for. Just a bit more.
Suddenly, a chorus of protests cut through the excitement, and exclamations of disappointment rose from some of the bidders, though it seemed to be settled fast. Whatever had happened, it appeared to Rigiel had little wiggle room to be contested.
"Sold for two-thousand Yara! To the no-nonsense gentleman!"
Two-thousand??? Rigiel's eyes snapped open, shocked. That was a small fortune! Even his mouth went a little ajar, glancing to the auctioneer. He was pointing straight in front of them, to who he assumed was the buyer. At first he saw the hawk, rust feathers all fluffed and on edge. Then the golden wild mane. Rigiel didn't recognize this man, and wasn't sure if he should. Not only had the chaos utterly frazzled the oracle, the tight lock on his Sight did a number on him, filling his memory with images and events he couldn't string together. At least, despite the momentary protests, the thunderous announcement had chilled the environment, the screaming beginning to die down into a conversation level buzz. Still uncomfortable, but a lot more tolerable.
Before he could gawk any longer, Rigiel felt a tug on his neck, the thin chain on his collar pulling him down from the stand, to the back of the structure to wait for his new Master to pick him up.
"Thank you, and thank you all, the auction is now closed! The next one will be tomorrow at Bren..." In just a few steps even the drivel of the auctioneer faded into imperceptibility, a sense of closure and dread settling within the youth. Who knew if he'd ever see the snowy peaks of his home again? And what lay in his future? It'd once been almost set in stone, until the Deliah name was dragged into the mud. Now, Rigiel, who'd once divined the fates for others, couldn't even tell what his own would be. It all depended on the one who'd bought him, the one he now awaited with baited breath.