It was before sunrise that Ignia found herself sneaking out the back door of her Master's home. It's not that he wouldn't let her go, after all he'd approved this trip. It was more that she was afraid he might change his mind when he finally realized he was losing his favorite slave. Having no possession, she had just put on her nicest dress in an attempt to look less of what she was, and made her way to the docks.

From the moment she had set foot in this ocean-side town, Ignia had longed for the sea. It was as if each wave called to her, begging her to join them. She held on to some kind of pole, and leaned over as far as she could, letting the breeze blow her hair behind her and kick up the skirt of her knee-length, black dress. Even the air smelled sweeter here, well, saltier, but all the same. This was what freedom felt like, tasted like, smelled like. It would likely be the only time she was free to do whatever she wanted, and Ignia intended to do so. After all, once on board the ship, she would be just another slave. Here, in this moment. She was Ignia, the girl with no last name, slave to none but the sea.

What could have been hours or minutes later, she heard a man who she guessed to be her captain. He was asking for introductions and she bit her lip nervously. It was easy to gauge her Master's moods, she'd been with him for so long. These people were different. Every human had a different opinion on slaves and how they should and should not behave. What was his? As a matter of fact, what was any of their opinions? Ignia raised her eyes, looking over the group. One slave girl appeared defiant, confident, and Ignia was taken aback. How had she gotten through life like that? Most Masters would have beaten that right out of her. At the thought, she rubbed one of the scars on her arm.

When it came to be her turn, like the "good" slave that she was, Ignia fell to her knees and raised her arms to show the bands around her wrists. "I am Ignia, property of the Octave family. Here to serve."