Noah Griffin
Earlier
“It’s a deal," Purred a feminine voice. Delicate and well-manicured fingers kneaded his chest before they pushed him away. Next thing Noah knew, he fell into the portal. Rapidly darkness swallowed him up and any sense of his surroundings become lost.
Laying flat and eagle spread, his mind was the first to breach past his unconsciousness. His skin tingled and created a demand to move or suffer the needling longer. Unable to stand it any longer, Noah’s eyelids opened gradually. The blurriness began to clear and his surroundings sharpened into his awareness. It took a moment for his mind to collect itself.
He could only describe where he currently laid as a deteriorating state house. Musty decay reached his nostrils causing him to crinkle it into distaste. He propped into an upright sitting position. Upon moving, pain exploded across his spine and ass. He should've expected it because he had landed on his back during his fall. Now he was paying for it. Noah cringed with each movement as he then pushed himself onto his feet. His tailbone hurt the most due to how he landed, his wallet slid up and dug into his rump to further irritate it. His hand lowered to rub the tenderness away. It didn't help the tingling didn't cease and demanded relief. He stretched, rotated and checked over for any lacerations upon his person.
Nothing seemed broken.
Relieved by this, his ears caught the moans from others stirring nearby. Shifting his wallet from his back to his side pocket, he began to step to help the nearest individual. There were many people, each from the different walks of life, collected here. Noah began to wonder. How did they get here and why?
There were too many questions, but there were no answers here. At least not yet.
Contemplating his fate, Noah noted the various reactions in each expression. Some relinquished themselves to their uncertain future, but others were ready to bolt. In fact, several did. All hauled back, kicking and screaming, then shackled to the supporting posts. Very few could recall their last moments, let alone how they got here or why.
Several looked terrified and ready to bolt while they tried to figure out what happened. Very few could remember their last moments, let alone what brought them here or why. He wasn’t like them. Every detail seared in his memory and unable to erase, a brand on his otherwise normal life. Still assisting others, a voice broke the confused chatter among them.
A man in a patchwork robe mockery bow before them, his facial features hidden by shadows within the hood.
“Welcome to my collection, mortals.”
An invisible fist plowed into Noah’s gut at the words spoken. All his breath escaped him as the man fought not to crumble to his knees, his mind trying to make sense of his situation. Was this Ethan’s would be fate? The question burrowed into his thoughts, causing his breath to release and draw in. As the shock passed, his skin crawled at the sensation of eyes passing over him. He looked upward to see the audience now collected about the balcony. Each face, a mix of feral and beauty, glimpsed down at the prizes below.
Watching the exchange, Noah narrowed his eyes in confusion at the words. ‘You may decide, or we will force you'. A choice of ownership, even if they resisted. The irony washed over the man, his skin a deep chocolate brown, at his situation. There was a time his whole race fought for equal rights and freedom, now he faced the very same situation.
What the fuck have I got myself into... he bitterly thought.
Present
Being at a forced march for nearly a month, Noah learned a few things. The most painful lesson was steel toe work boots weren't designed for this. During the first few days, his feet leaked and peeled thanks to oozing blisters. They were most tender where the shoes rubbed against his flesh peeking past worn down socks. To allow his soles to heal, he started to carry them on his belt. His toes curled into the beaten down and well-traveled soil, easily pushing him onward.
During their trek over difficult country, Noah picked out the most notable characters. Mainly those who distinguished themselves during the exchange within the Fae court.
His dark eyes fell to Yusuke. He nicknamed the man the ‘Artist’ because the man rarely ceased sketching. Each time he spotted the man, his one hand supported his book and the other scribbled pictures into the page. Noah wondered how long it took before the ‘Artist’ ran dry of paper or pencil. And what would happen?
Shrugging the thought off, his attention turned to the young woman walking nearby. Her head tilted and began to stare into the man’s face. She was acting like a young child whose curiosity got the better of her. Did she have any sort of mental disorder that stunted her mental growth? Noah questioned, but remained silent.
Again his eyes shifted, this time to the Elsa. She was a young adult and while she didn’t appear to be much on appearance, he had a feeling she was clever. What he hadn't decided on was if she was a survivor or too passive to think for herself. Only time would tell. He continued to watch her fingers jerked and twitch in front while she stared into space.
The mocha skinned teenager, the one the fox-like individual took interest in, strolled next to her. Her words mixed what Noah guessed to be her native and English languages as she chattered away. Both introducing herself and attempting to examine Elsa’s ticks. So she was conducting an orchestra and on a piano, interesting thought Noah.
Storing the information away, he became distracted when an elderly man stumbled beside him. In that moment, impulse overrode caution as Noah twisted, jerked his arm out and stopped his march. It created a bar across the man’s chest causing him to catch himself. The old man’s eyes blinked then turned to Noah. Softness etched into his features when the older man nodded in respect.
“Thank you, young man. Quite some reflexes you got there.” He praised Noah.
Again, Noah shrugged, “You get really good with hand and eye coordination when you play sports. Even faster when you need to protect a basketball from being stolen.”
“At least you’re not like my grandson."
The man’s eyes dropped a bit at the mention of what he lost and continued on, “and on his phone, playing games all day. How did a young man like yourself get caught up in this?”
“That’s… complicated.” Noah admitted, his tone quieted.
Noah watched the old man run his fingers through his disheveled and frizzled curls. His green eyes studied Noah hard enough that discomfort set in. A decision was finally reached as he turned away to catch up to the group.
His words cut behind back at Noah, “I understand, I won’t pry. I’m not the nosy sort. Again thank you.”
The younger man shook his head then began to catch up to the group. Deep down, he hoped none of the Fae had noticed or would do anything about it.
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