Re: Holding Pens - Hermes and Carrick
Hermes stood with his shoulders back and spine straight, hands at his sides while he allowed himself to be inspected. They'd given him a shirt when he arrived, but there was a child who was cold and scared and so Hermes had sacrificed that article of his clothing almost immediately upon receiving it. The drawstring shorts they'd given him hung low on his hips no matter how tightly he tied them. The only remnant of his former life was the elegantly tooled collar that matched exactly the greens in his eyes right down to the occasional fleck of gold if viewed from the right angle.
"I am not, my lord," he said, snatching glances here and there without disrupting Carrick's view of his toned body, one that would have looked more fitting on an acrobat than a bed slave. "My former Mistress, gods rest her, sought once to find out the identity of my father so that she might have a proper pedigree put together. Unfortunately, all that I know is that he was full blooded fae and does not wish to be found. To my knowledge, my mother was human, and if there was anything otherwise remarkable about her no one knew it." His parents were abstract concepts to him. He'd never met his father and his mother had been sold when he was small enough to have not a single memory of her.