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The guards didn't even bother saying anything. They simply opened the door, threw the boy inside, and closed it behind him with a resounding THUD. The boy, cursed again, and got to his feet, grumbling in his native language about bloody humans and their bloody disrespect. Did they not know an endangered species when they bloody saw one? He remembered the tales that his parents used to tell him of the secret empire that the elves once had, one which rivaled the humans-until the World Wars broke out. While the humans had easily repaired the damage they inflicted on one another, elves, Death Elves, especially, like the boy, had never truly recovered, and even to this day they felt the reverberations of the humans' stupidity. It didn't help that elves grew and aged slower than humans-any elves born after the Second World War were still barely out of diapers. Aingel had only been a boy of 70 when the Second World War had ended, and it had taken a lot from him: his future, his home...his parents...But that was another story. Now to focus on what was occurring right now. Namely, where in the gods' names was he?

The boy stared at the woman for a second, regarding her. His eyes were cool, intelligent-but also sharp and calculating. He was obviously sizing her up as a threat, gauging her personality, trying to see if she was lying. After a few minutes of staring, he nodded curtly, and bowed his head, allowing the woman to cut the collar off. After she did so, he looked at her, and said something in Death Elven, but it was not comprehensible. It was obvious that the boy had never spoken English in his entire life.

The boy blinked when he felt the language creep into his mind, shaking his head for a second when the spell made him dizzy. He took a second to get his bearings, then looked back at the woman again, straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat. Even with the spell, he still had an accent, one that sounded like a cross between Irish and Japanese. "I said it is indeed the end time for the Elves when we are bought by the same race we enslaved so long ago. Do not try to hide it, Oraceli." He held up a hand before she could say anything. "You may not be like your kin, but a Death Elf can smell a non-human from a mile away. If you're wondering if I hold any ill-will or bigotry towards this, I do not. I was only an infant when the Elves began their conquest of the Oraceli. You are the first that I have ever laid eyes on, yet you are...different. Why is that?"

Aingel sighed, feeling like a turd. Great, he just met someone and already she's crying. Getting to his knees with her, he put his hand on her shoulder. "I've seen plenty of monsters in my time. I watched as two monsters, with Nazi swastikas on their shoulders, beat my father to death, and....violated my mother in front of me, before hanging her from the rafters of our own house. I watched as the same monsters grabbed me, and threw me in with a bunch of humans in a rail car, all of them wearing the Star of David on their chests. I watched as the monsters came for me, next, commenting on how such a healthy, attractive body should not go to waste, before doing the same thing to me that they did to my mother, only this time, they did not grant me the death that Mother got; instead, I was passed from officer, to officer, like some sort of...prize. When the war ended, and I was freed, I tried to settle down, but the monsters would not leave me be...they found me again, and this time, put me into a market like cattle....then you bought me...It may be hard to understand, but...while I detest this entire business of slavery, I am glad that it was you who bought me, and not another..monster..." The boy blinked, not realizing that there were tears in his own eyes. He cursed himself for becoming sentimental, then looked the girl in the eyes. "Look at me. I lived my entire life around monsters. It unfortunately made me who I am. But you...never in a million years will you ever be a monster..."

Aingel watched the spectacle, eyes widening in surprise. When it was over,he carried Shaderi to the couch and laid her down, making her comfortable. When she finally did awake, he looked at her, and almost smiled, but instead nodded curtly. "Please refrain from doing that in the future. As much as I hate the humans, not all of them deserve death...." He was silent for a minute, then looked back at her tilting his head. "I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Aingel Li'Arani, a Death Elf. As I mentioned before, I lost my family in the Second World War to the Nazis, and I was sent to a concentration camp, where...well, I would rather not repeat that part. I escaped after said war, but I was captured, for the second time, after the caravan I was guarding was attacked by raiders. The caravan escaped, but I was knocked unconscious, and put into the slave market. I am one of the few left of my kind, and I hate to say this, but the Death Elves are a dying race, mainly due to out long lifespan making restoring the population a task that will take hundreds of years. Although I detest being a slave, Death Elves are honor bound to carry out whatever task is assigned them, and, after failing my duty as a caravan guard, I have brought shame to myself, and my new task, being your slave, it how I shall redeem myself. I will follow every order or whim you give me, and I will protect you with my life if need be...."

Aingel shifted, so he could look at her. "True, but at least you don't have to watch your people die." At her invitation to kill her, he scowled, then stood up, walking out of the room. He felt disgusted with her, with himself. She was the last of her kind-and she wanted to die? And why, for a fleeting moment, was he tempted to do so? To escape this life an return to his people, or what was left of them....He shook his head, and found an empty room to sit in. He thought that Shaderi was a smart person-one who could possible match him in intelligence. Then why was she acting so...stupid?