Fic: the world has got no shame, ch. 1
Title: the world has got no shame, ch. 1
Summary: Raven thought she really had it figured out this time, how to beat the system. Emma is going to prove her wrong.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1005
Rating/Contents: G for chapter, NC-17 for story, slave AU
Pairing: eventual Emma/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: IDK, you guys. I have been actively trying not to write, but then I got drunk, and this happened. Blame tumblr. Again. PS: As of this story, I have written a third as much XMFC fic as SGA fic. Let that settle.
She was lucky this time; she knew the sweep was coming, and she had time to choose. Male, because she wasn't stupid enough to make that mistake again; not ugly, but not attractive enough for "personal services," not big enough for hard labor, just right for housework, scullery maybe, secretarial if she was really, really lucky. There was nothing she could possibly do to make it any less appalling, change in any way the fact that she was going to be someone's thing, but at least she could soften it, hold something of herself back, keep herself infinitesimally safer.
It was one of the nicer auction houses this time, which was surprising. She'd probably run through every one in the city by now, but she almost never ended up in a place like this, certainly not looking like this. For once, she actually enjoyed the usual clean-up; it felt like years since she'd had a bath, and while it wasn't true that nice houses had nice amenities, this one did. Clearly they didn't think she'd make a personal either, so all of that cleansing she got to miss out on.
They dressed her, usual blue and black, a little too baggy for her in this form. She took a look at the lineup as she waited: mixed bag today as far as possible occupations went, mostly male, a few far too pretty girls mixed into it to keep people interested.
After a lot of hurry-up-and-wait, one of the house staff clipped a leash to her collar and led her onstage. Being on the auction block itself was always the strangest feeling. While it wasn't as terrifying as it was the first, or the second, or even the fifth time, it was horrible; but, somehow, she couldn't help but feel like it was a competition. She kept feeling like she needed to outdo what it had been last time, what other people were pulling down; there was an element of pride, especially when she'd carefully engineered her appearance to pull the right bids from the right bidders.
It was really sort of depressing and disturbing how calm she was about it. She really had done this far, far too many times, and she'd probably do it plenty more before she finally figured a way out.
Bidding was poor today in general, from what she could hear, and after the auctioneer's first call, no one even moved. That was when Raven panicked; the last thing she needed was to not get sold, because god only knew what would happen then. She did her best; she'd been slumping her shoulders, looking down at her slippers, but she looked out at the crowd, giving her best soulful, puppy-dog look- the front rows, those were the ones to pay attention to. The people in the back, the ones on the phones, those were the bulk buyers, the ones you wanted to avoid, the kind who'd buy twenty laborers sight-unseen and put them on a chain gang, buy twenty personals and put them somewhere worse. The people in the middle were the ones who were bored, the ones who treated it as a social event, a place to go on a weekend afternoon- they weren't going to bid anyway, so there was no point in wasting your time.
The ones at the front, though, those were the big spenders, the ones looking for exactly the right thing. Those were the ones to play to.
She tried a couple of them, locking eyes and giving them the "Help me" look; that was a good one, because it worked both ways, pulling on the heartstrings of the ones who thought they were going to save you and promising dark satisfaction to the ones who wanted to control you. Even then she wasn't getting much back, and that's when her heart started pounding. It was possible that all of this had been a critical miscalculation, that she'd picked the wrong form, gotten sent to the wrong house; there were options if she didn't get sold, and all of them were bad.
She swept the audience again, looking desperately around, and her gaze fell on someone she hadn't noticed before; she was sitting in the second row, all the way at the end, but still Raven wasn't sure how she'd missed her. She was all in white, long fur coat obscuring most of her body, blonde hair falling down around her shoulders. She was giving Raven the oddest look, tilting her head and considering her; there was something deeply strange about it, and Raven just couldn't figure out why.
She nodded at the dark-haired man at her side, probably her majordomo, and he raised the paddle; Raven did her very best not to let her relief show. It wasn't that hard, because there was really very little to be relieved about, but getting taken away by some obviously wealthy woman was among the best outcomes she could hope for.
For now.
There was a little back and forth with some man across the auditorium, but Raven had trouble paying attention; there had never been any real doubt that the woman would win, especially with the way she countered him effortlessly every time he bid.
And then the man gave up, the gavel came down, the audience applauded, and that was that. They led her off, and the majordomo came up and signed the papers, taking Raven's leash and tugging her along after him. The woman in white didn't even look at her, just walked ahead of them, responding politely to handshakes and cheek kisses as they passed through the foyer of the auction house.
Raven blinked as they stepped out into the sun, dazed by the light long enough that there was a sharp tug on the other end of her leash. It only reminded her that she was in service again, but the wheels in her head were already starting to turn.
Now it was time to start figuring a way to get out.
--
ch. 2
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/398757.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Raven thought she really had it figured out this time, how to beat the system. Emma is going to prove her wrong.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1005
Rating/Contents: G for chapter, NC-17 for story, slave AU
Pairing: eventual Emma/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: IDK, you guys. I have been actively trying not to write, but then I got drunk, and this happened. Blame tumblr. Again. PS: As of this story, I have written a third as much XMFC fic as SGA fic. Let that settle.
She was lucky this time; she knew the sweep was coming, and she had time to choose. Male, because she wasn't stupid enough to make that mistake again; not ugly, but not attractive enough for "personal services," not big enough for hard labor, just right for housework, scullery maybe, secretarial if she was really, really lucky. There was nothing she could possibly do to make it any less appalling, change in any way the fact that she was going to be someone's thing, but at least she could soften it, hold something of herself back, keep herself infinitesimally safer.
It was one of the nicer auction houses this time, which was surprising. She'd probably run through every one in the city by now, but she almost never ended up in a place like this, certainly not looking like this. For once, she actually enjoyed the usual clean-up; it felt like years since she'd had a bath, and while it wasn't true that nice houses had nice amenities, this one did. Clearly they didn't think she'd make a personal either, so all of that cleansing she got to miss out on.
They dressed her, usual blue and black, a little too baggy for her in this form. She took a look at the lineup as she waited: mixed bag today as far as possible occupations went, mostly male, a few far too pretty girls mixed into it to keep people interested.
After a lot of hurry-up-and-wait, one of the house staff clipped a leash to her collar and led her onstage. Being on the auction block itself was always the strangest feeling. While it wasn't as terrifying as it was the first, or the second, or even the fifth time, it was horrible; but, somehow, she couldn't help but feel like it was a competition. She kept feeling like she needed to outdo what it had been last time, what other people were pulling down; there was an element of pride, especially when she'd carefully engineered her appearance to pull the right bids from the right bidders.
It was really sort of depressing and disturbing how calm she was about it. She really had done this far, far too many times, and she'd probably do it plenty more before she finally figured a way out.
Bidding was poor today in general, from what she could hear, and after the auctioneer's first call, no one even moved. That was when Raven panicked; the last thing she needed was to not get sold, because god only knew what would happen then. She did her best; she'd been slumping her shoulders, looking down at her slippers, but she looked out at the crowd, giving her best soulful, puppy-dog look- the front rows, those were the ones to pay attention to. The people in the back, the ones on the phones, those were the bulk buyers, the ones you wanted to avoid, the kind who'd buy twenty laborers sight-unseen and put them on a chain gang, buy twenty personals and put them somewhere worse. The people in the middle were the ones who were bored, the ones who treated it as a social event, a place to go on a weekend afternoon- they weren't going to bid anyway, so there was no point in wasting your time.
The ones at the front, though, those were the big spenders, the ones looking for exactly the right thing. Those were the ones to play to.
She tried a couple of them, locking eyes and giving them the "Help me" look; that was a good one, because it worked both ways, pulling on the heartstrings of the ones who thought they were going to save you and promising dark satisfaction to the ones who wanted to control you. Even then she wasn't getting much back, and that's when her heart started pounding. It was possible that all of this had been a critical miscalculation, that she'd picked the wrong form, gotten sent to the wrong house; there were options if she didn't get sold, and all of them were bad.
She swept the audience again, looking desperately around, and her gaze fell on someone she hadn't noticed before; she was sitting in the second row, all the way at the end, but still Raven wasn't sure how she'd missed her. She was all in white, long fur coat obscuring most of her body, blonde hair falling down around her shoulders. She was giving Raven the oddest look, tilting her head and considering her; there was something deeply strange about it, and Raven just couldn't figure out why.
She nodded at the dark-haired man at her side, probably her majordomo, and he raised the paddle; Raven did her very best not to let her relief show. It wasn't that hard, because there was really very little to be relieved about, but getting taken away by some obviously wealthy woman was among the best outcomes she could hope for.
For now.
There was a little back and forth with some man across the auditorium, but Raven had trouble paying attention; there had never been any real doubt that the woman would win, especially with the way she countered him effortlessly every time he bid.
And then the man gave up, the gavel came down, the audience applauded, and that was that. They led her off, and the majordomo came up and signed the papers, taking Raven's leash and tugging her along after him. The woman in white didn't even look at her, just walked ahead of them, responding politely to handshakes and cheek kisses as they passed through the foyer of the auction house.
Raven blinked as they stepped out into the sun, dazed by the light long enough that there was a sharp tug on the other end of her leash. It only reminded her that she was in service again, but the wheels in her head were already starting to turn.
Now it was time to start figuring a way to get out.
--
ch. 2
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/398757.html.
comments over there.