Rizef stared at the approaching group come to ruin his day. Or, rather, ruin it further.
Already they were pointing and laughing at him, and it only got worse once they were standing right in front of him. There were five in total, all of them older than Rizef's age of nineteen and all from well-to-do and respectable families, which gave them free reign to do whatever they wanted without facing any sort of consequences.
With parents and siblings in high places, it was much easier for them to cause trouble than it was for a nobody like Rizef to breathe free air. The earlier crowd had mercifully died down as the novelty of heckling his misfortune wore off, but now that attention was back on him once again, people were turning their heads, cruel smirks on their faces as they watched the show.
Luth, the most brutish and oafish of the lot, towered over Rizef's prone form in a stance of pure arrogance. He laughed like it was the funniest spectacle he'd seen all day. "You again?" he crowed, kicking dirt and pebbles all over Rizef's bare feet, "What'd you do this time, shit in the street or somethin'?"
Rizef knew better than to snap back. He opted to stare into what far distance he could see past the splendor of the marketplace and the southern gates, where beyond that lay the barren plains and the broad mountains hundreds of leagues away. During the entire year he'd been living here, Rizef oft times wished he had never set foot in this gods-forsaken town. Desperation for survival had a funny way of punishing him.
"Third time this week, eh? Tsk, tsk!" Hej, Luth's younger and slightly smarter brother, shouted directly into his ear. Rizef felt his left eye twitch in lieu of an eyeroll. He could count, thank you very much.
"Why do you even bother?" The false soothing voice of Mariena asked, and for the briefest moment Rizef couldn't help but flit his gaze towards her. She smiled back at him, the gesture almost kind.
But he knew better. He looked away. The truth of the matter, Rizef asked himself that every day. Why try? Why go on? Why have hope? But they didn't need to know that. His misery was his own; ironically, it was the only thing he truly owned.
Luth then called him a slur that Rizef knew he picked up from one of the traveling caravans. The others quickly followed suit and, as Rizef had long since expected would happen, began hurling rotting fruit at him. He flinched involuntarily as each one exploded against his face or against the board of the pillory, the squishy stinking pulp splattering in his hair. His hands clutched into tight fists.
Being thrown in the stocks for merely trying to survive was something Rizef knew he should have been used to by now, but it seemed that no matter how many times he went through it, the tossing of the rotten food never failed to make him feel lower than dirt. Passing out in the middle of the street from starvation was less mortifying than this. In between each toss, someone in the group verbally abused him. A few minutes in, Rizef had more or less blocked them out. They would get tired eventually, then he could enjoy his misery in peace.
That didn't happen for another six minutes and eighteen seconds. Rizef had counted, his mental barriers holding strong even as his legs slumped with fatigued. With cold comfort, they patted his cheek and smeared the putrid juices around his sun-beaten face. After another minute of less than clever taunts, the group eventually wondered off.
Rizef slid his gaze over to watch their retreat, and was startled to find one of them, Dren, peering over his shoulder to stare back at him. Rizef immediately cut his eyes away. Out of everyone in the group, Dren was the most different. He was quiet-spoken, practically a mute, and more likely to hang back and watch his friends torment Rizef. That wasn't to say that he never hurt Rizef. In fact, he could be quite cruel if the need arose.
Rizef honestly wasn't sure if Dren ever took pleasure in doing anything. He was just glad that they were leaving him alone for the day. In another hour or so, a guard would be around to set him free. In the meantime, he closed his eyes in an attempt to get some rest. The positioning was uncomfortable and it was blazing hot, but at least he didn't have to force himself to scavenge for scraps in the garbage.
**
The guard never came.
The sun had lowered past the horizon and blessed cool breezes finally wafted down the streets to ease the lingering heat. Less people walked around, most going home to either get started on supper or to eat it. The chirps of crickets echoed around Rizef as he slowly began to panic. His legs were absolutely numb, his neck sore and hurting. Peering around, he saw no hint of a patrol or anyone with a friendly face. The rotten food stuffs had solidified on his skin and matted his long dark hair, leaving him itchy and stinking of rot.
Despite the stench, his stomach rumbled uncomfortably loud, the pain of his guts squeezing in on themselves causing tears to spring to his hazel eyes. His throat hurt as he attempted clearing it and calling out for help. Someone in a nearby house opened their window long enough to scream at him to shut up. Which he did, knowing that he'd be spending the entire night in the stocks. Alone.
The tears came faster and he couldn't help but cry to himself, inwardly cursing his very existence and the perseverance his body had for living. If only a wild animal would appear and eat him. While not a fat morsel, he was easy and animals were often opportunistic. And at least then, something wouldn't go to bed hungry tonight.
"Pathetic."
Rizef sucked in a gasp, his eyes opening wide. His tears blinded him, but he could see the blurry outline of someone standing before him. And that someone had a voice he instantly recognized. Dark, sensual, calculated. Dren.
On instinct, Rizef flinched, halfway expecting to be pelted with something or outright slapped. But no such blow came. Only a disgusted scoff followed by his visitor stepping closer.
"If you need money, there are easier ways than stealing."
Rizef wanted to laugh. Was he seriously suggesting he find work? Didn't it ever cross his mind that he had tried to find work? Oh yes he tried and had been turned down and ran out of every shop. But it would be too much to expect Dren to understand the hardship he faced day in and day out. Dren's family had money, influence. He never had to find out what it was like to go hungry or wish for shelter from a heavy rain. All he had to do was snap his fingers and all of his needs would be taken cared of. He had no right to speak to Rizef that way. None whatsoever.
Dren was directly in front of him now, close enough to easily get to Rizef's unprotected face. Rizef peered up at him, his heart stuttering in his throat. Dren was watching him, his head cocked to the side as if inspecting a new specimen. Then, without preamble, he procured a handkerchief and began wiping the waste from Rizef's face.
"Don't touch me!" Rizef snapped, attempting to angle himself away.
Dren snatched his chin, holding him still. His nails dug rigidly into his flesh, forcing a whimper out of Rizef. His feet scrambled uselessly, but nothing he did would get the stocks to magically open. Only a key would, and only the guard assigned to set him free was in possession of it.
"Hold still," Dren demanded. He began wiping at Rizef's face again, his movements rougher.
Rizef clenched his fists but otherwise obeyed. Once Dren was satisfied with the state of his face, he set to picking out the big pieces of food from his hair, his movements less angry now. Rizef tried to mentally separate himself from what was happening. It was strange, but he knew better than to relax or trust the other man. Dren wanted something from him. Whatever that something was remained a mystery to him, and he wasn't eager to find out what.
Dren grabbed his face again, his firm hands not as rough as before. He angled him left and right as though checking livestock for faults.
