Dominic waited was the bidders looked him over, he, like the other slaves at this slave auction, was chained to the ground on his knees, a collar around his neck so he couldn't escape, not that he really had the will to fight anymore. His eyes remained on the ground as the leering men and women headed to their seats as the auction was about to start.
Jone was leaning against a silver headed cane as he watched the proceedings. The sight of the slaves had never bothered him before. He didn't know what exactly rubbed him the wrong way today, but seeing the young men and women on their knees made him squirm. He'd been to tens of these fares before. His slaves had always been cared for. They got warm food and a bed in exchange for...well, for providing him with blood. He'd gotten too old for deer blood. Plus, the mother****ers were too quick for him nowadays.
The vampire studied the slaves, looking for someone young. He didn't like the old ones. their blood was more potent. It made it harder to stop before the person was dead. And he didn't want to break his record of keeping humans alive for fifty or sixty years; it was literally the only thing he'd ever been proud off. He looked at each slave from a distance, eerily still. If someone had been watching, they would have noticed he hadn't moved a muscle in over an hour.
The auctioneer dragged Dominic onto the stage when it was his turn. He had the man stand and began listing off his qualities. "Age 20, Male, of excellent strength and constitution, quiet, has a tendency to move slow when walking but will speed up when... prompted..." He whacked Dominic on the back with a stick as an example. "We'll start the bidding at 10,000."
Jone flinched. He entertained a vivid fantasy of grabbing the man's stick from his hands, breaking it into little pieces and shoving them down his throat."Twenty thousand," he called out, leaning on his cane a bit more heavily. "Sixty more if you stop the bidding now." He didn't like haggling. He could outbid them all, considering he'd been alive and accumulating wealth for centuries. Yeah, he still looked twenty seven, but he could feel his age. Anybody could, if they looked him in the eye. He liked the boy on stage. He wanted to end it quickly, if only to spare him the humiliation of standing there for much longer.
Dominic blinked in surprise at the man's high bid and looked up to where he was standing confused. The auctioneer blinked in surprise as well and, after a moment's pause, said. "Sold to the young man with the cane." As he had one of the workers pull Dominic by a collar and leash over to the man to collect the payment and hand him off. Dominic looked up at the man a little fearfully.
Jone's seething glare towards the guy handling Mr.Slave probably betrayed his disgust. "Here," he said, handing the slave master his money, meticulously avoiding to touch the man's fingers. "Come on," he told the slave, his crimson eyes catching the boy's. "I bet you're even more tired of looking at this dude than I am."
"Oh, right," Jone silently cursed himself for forgetting. "You look cold, here," he took off the coat he didn't need and handed it to the boy, keeping one hand on he cane all the while. "I don't really get cold. I keep forgetting others do. Sorry about that."
"No problem, kid." As they walked, Jone studied the young man. He hated the first few weeks with a slave; they always needed some time to settle down, both mentally and physically. Some tried to escape, in which case Jone gave them a pack of food, clothes, and money so at last they wouldn't die the first few days out on the road. "Okay, here's how this is gonna work. You'll get paid a monthly wage of twenty gold pieces, thirty on holiday months. Cook will feed you, and if you ever get sick or anything, we have a medic on site. Nobody's ever gotten sick in my care before, however. I'll tell you why a bit later. You have a room right next to Cook's, and I seriously don't have any control over the woman, so you gonna need to be really polite to her if you want to keep your head."
"Whatever chores Cook can think up. And one other thing. I'll tell you when we get home. Fyi, the gargoyles at the gate were not my decision. My buddy Crim's parents really liked statues. This is kinda Crim's house...Well it was when Crim was alive. After Crim died, the house sorta became mine. And I didn't wanna get rid of them because ya know...memories, I guess..."