|
|
Post by Rebekah on Jun 11, 2014 18:46:12 GMT
She wasn't ashamed. She just knew what her skin color meant. If anything, she was ashamed of the fact that she had no real say in what she wanted for herself. It was frustrating, but she never vocalized her misery out of her own fear. Did she hate her owners? No, she just wished she didn't need an owner in the first place.
"What are y' doin'?" Rebekah asked, folding her hands into her dress in her shame. They were rough from overwork and nearly feeling the bite of an overseer's whip. "It'll heal. I'm fine." She said, lying.
|
|
|
|
Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 16, 2014 7:01:18 GMT
"You hurt" he stated quietly with a frown. "Hurt how?" he asked watching her with his intent gaze frowning slightly. Now what oddities were whitemen up to. What strangeness did they feel was right now. He was thinking he was prepared for any oddness that was to happen, just watching her quietly.
|
|
|
|
Post by Rebekah on Jun 17, 2014 7:11:22 GMT
She was silent for a long moment, and once she rose her cast down eyes once more, she mumbled, "The watcher he..." She frowned, and with shaky fingers, unwrapped one of her palms. A deep cut was found, some bits of salt were still there to stop the bleeding. "I talked back and he punished me." Rebekah answered flatly.
"I'm lucky he didn't hit me across my lips this time."
|
|
|
|
Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 17, 2014 14:08:06 GMT
"Watcher? Punish for talk? Why?" he frowned more. The more he was hearing about white men the less he was liking them. This was all so wrong. "Why not leave?" he asked naively. "I would, or make hurt," of course that was what he was planning to do to the whiteman that had destroyed his home. He looked over at her again frowning quietly. "I help?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Rebekah on Jun 24, 2014 7:21:52 GMT
Even if she wanted to - she just... couldn't. She was too close to Susannah as it was. And she had no outside friends to turn to. And while the idea of leaving had always drummed within her heart, secretly, she didn't even know where to start. "You..." She started, "You wouldn't understand. I'm different. I'm-" She couldn't put it into words. "I belong to someone. They own me like you'd own that knife." She pointed.
Help. He wanted to help. But how? And why? She bit her lip, and walked towards him, uneasy and her eyes still focused on her feet and the ground. "Can ya' heal?"
|
|
