Fear.

Dousa shook inconsiderably for someone his age. The things he had seen out on the water. Men falling overboard and being taken by the wolves of the sea, bones and flesh torn apart in accident after accident. The swaying deck of a sea-vessel is not the best place to be using heavy tools or equipment. Slaves being whipped and beaten senseless. Their masters being so far away from the land to ever think of being imprisoned. Dousa himself had taken more pain than any normal man should have. But here he stood, shaking like a child, trapped in the cage with a monster.

Anxiety.

His head crooked and he came back to his full stand. Much to his dismay the queen herself was now staring him in the eyes. He'd rather have-at the monster that loomed behind her than have her sapphires sink into the mud of his eyes. The knot in his throat hadn't faultered. It was determined to strangle him. He felt his chest begin to subtly vibrate as his lungs fought for air. Hyper-ventilation would follow, if he wasn't already.

Determination.

Dousa shook himself inside his mind, stopping most of the shaking in his upper body. Though his knees still shook under the god-thankfully loose garments, he felt the knot in his throat subside. He could breath, some-what.
He envisioned himself as a lord. The look in both the lords before him told him that they too, like the maiden, believed he was a lord.
Though he had only heard murmers from the suiters when he was in the room with them, he did his best to immitate their speeech and posture.

' 'Ello, me Queen.'

Surprised at his own valor, his chest poked out a bit more firmly. Though his mind cleared of his fear just long enough to allow him to realize: What if they realised he was a slave? What if they saw through his ruse? He'd be tortured and beaten until all his senses failed, then he'd be killed.
At the thought his chest faultered from the split second it stuck out.

Regret.

His valor vanquished, his knees began to shake more. The queen's eyes wouldn't move. She stared deep into his. She couldn't understand the weight of her gaze turned against his. He found himself being hipnotized by her gaze. As-if snared in her power. Much like the dream he had dreamt while in the healer's room...


Lust.

His arms bowed against the floor as his master's heel came down on his head. His face smashed against his hand which in-turn smashed against the scrub-brush he was using to clean the floor.

'Naw- goo' nuf, sir. Get duh led outta yer' ass.' the man growled.

'yusser.' his limply voice replied, choking under the heavy boot.

Again, he began strubbing hard. Taking notice to the slick mud that stuck to his jawl wouldn't be wise. The time it would take to swipe it to the deck would be time his master wouldn't like wasted-and yes, the master is constantly watching, he will see if you try to.

Dousa scrubbed vigorously at the deck, removing several layers of scum from it's slick surface, when the layer of extra skin he had acquired from his master's generously merciful kick, fell to the floor.
It wasn't a moment later -far too soon for Dousa to have swiped it into the bucket next to him- that the master would be standing over Dousa.

'Ya dum'sunavabich!'

Dousa turned as he always did, and as always, he met his master's merciful heel. Dousa's head jerked hard enough to send his body stretched through the air, flung in the direction opposed the master's foot.
Dousa could already feel the rest of his beating, even though the master hadn't come over to kick or stomp him yet, he had come to know this habit of his master's the first day he was set aboard the boat.

The clump-clump sound of those merciful boots never came, though. Dousa lay with his eyes closed listening, but the sound of the angry man pursuing foolish incompetence never came.
Coming back to his senses, Dousa sat up to see his master standing in awe. Behind him was a mountain of a wave, bigger than any had ever rocked this boat. It grew and grew until finally it came down with unreal fury upon the boat. Completely smashing it into nothing.

Behind the wave stood a kingdom which floated upon the waters. Upon the kingdom say queen Mytorane. She had slain the goddess of the sea and now sits atop it as it's new, merciful queen. No-longer would Dousa be the slave of the blue. And to his greatest surprise, she reached out, toward him. Her hand was delicate, soft, as pale as the reflection of moonlight on the water.

She hoisted him out of the water and onto the throne beside her. He instantly sat in awe as her dazzling blue eyes came closer to his, to embrace him. Her lips were soft, softer than anything he had ever touched....


Reluctance.

To come out of his day-dream was a terrible thing. Dousa found himself staring deeply into the queen's eyes. How long had he...? He once again found himself completely overwhelmed with anxiety. What was he doing?? Why had they even brought him to be in the queen's presence? What was the meaning of this? He had a small mind, and even less understanding to equip him for such a situation, so all he could do what mowl over these questions in his mind while he waited for them to end his life.

Despair.

Unable to come to a conclusion on whether or not he would be able to save his own life from this situation, Dousa regained his confidence. Much like the possum will attack any creature of size when cornered, Dousa would now.

He straightened himself out and decided to speak again.
Utilizing every bit of gesture and posture he had seen in the room earlier, he spoke.

'Twas' tol' ta wait for de Queen. I 'umbly ask dat ye 'ccept my 'pologies, ma'am.'

He gave another bow, much like he would when he was given an order on the ship, just enough that they wouldn't see his face for a moment. As he dipped forward, a drip of the generous sweat plished to the floor in-front of him. He hoped the queen wouldn't take notice and see him for the slave in disguise he was. But right now, what hope did he have?

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