We all live in grace at the end of the day and we've armed all the children we thought we'd betrayed
Who: deservesabone, forefather & auction attendees (AGI loyalists would be notified this morning)
When: Thursday, March 31st, afternoon
Where: Grand Lenore auction house
Summary: A shapeshifter is sold.
Warnings: Dark themes, suggestive language, nudity.
((Action tags preferred for the sake of ease.))
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"SOLD!" The slam of the gavel echoed through the room. "At fourteen thousand to bidder #83!"
The young, scaled woman on stage - hollow-eyed, blank, as if she no longer cared what happened to her or where she was sent - was taken off stage, and the elderly auctioneer smiled kindly at his audience. "Grand Lenore hopes you sincerely enjoy your purchase, sir; I understand serpent mutants are very in vogue this year.
"As per our program, next is Lot #2337: thirty-five-years-old, white, shapeshifter, male - "
Behind the lavish curtains, a thick hand fell on Sam's shoulder and shoved him forward. "Your turn, shifter."
Days spent with too little food or sleep had weakened him severely. Sam stumbled, sending the guard a wide-eyed, shaking gaze. But there was no sympathy to be found there. This was it; he was going to be sold. It wasn't fair. He wasn't ready. There was supposed to be more time.
The guard walked him out all the same, the heavy weight of his palm a guiding force to center stage. It was all for show. The guard didn't really matter; just as the cuffs around his wrist were little more than props. Restraints weren't necessary; not when they had a seven-year-old telepath behind the stage, ready to make sure the slaves stuck to the script. Sam had run into the girl once during his "training", after trying to shift and escape during a health check-up. He hadn't known she was in the hallway.
Her mind had shoved its way into his body, piloting him like a Sam-suit to force him back to human. It had been painful. He'd been dragged back to his cell for punishment, and as they'd passed the blindfolded girl (the slaves often debated whether she was truly blind or whether her eyes were too demonic to show) she had smiled and laughed and shaken a finger at him.
It was his first and last escape attempt.
The guard stopped him at center stage with a grunt, then walked off. Sam stood barefoot and uncertain before the crowd, feet away from the podium - awkwardly alone beneath the bright, hot stage lights. He'd thought the pre-auction viewing would be the worst of it, when they'd been gawked at by the prospective buyers like zoo animals in their cages. Compared to that, he couldn't imagine that the bidding would be as bad. But paralyzing vulnerability swept over him now as he stared out at a crowd full of unfriendly faces. No, he'd been wrong - this was a worse display by far.
The crowd was full of the rich and finely dressed; most were in business suits, which was an uncomfortable contrast against his thin gray boxers. (Lucky that he'd been left with that much; Sam had seen those pre-determined to sell as sex slaves brought out naked.) Sam's uncertain gaze searched the crowd (mostly men, he noticed, despite some scattered women), uncomfortable about meeting anyone's eyes but too hopeful to turn towards the wood beneath his feet.
...He didn't see Edgeworth. Maybe he'd sent someone in his place. The lawyer was a noticeable figure, after all; he wouldn't want to draw suspicion. Yeah. If they were going to bid him out of this like they had for Jack and Sirius, they would send someone who wouldn't draw attention.
But in the back of his mind he could hear Shikamaru's voice, cold and cruel. "He's gonna leave you to rot."
Sam shut his eyes to banish the thought. You're still wrong. It's not true.
The auctioneer continued to drone on, and it took the shifter a minute to register what he was saying. "...IQ, of excellent health and fitness. Experience in bartending and business, and his abilities - "
"Yeah, how'd that business thing work out for him?"
Raucous laughter followed the shout-out, startling Sam and causing the auctioneer to bristle. The older man pinched his lips and tapped irritably at his screen. This wasn't how the auctions here were normally held; there was an expected decorum at Grand Lenore which certainly did not include interrupting the auctioneer. But he made no move to quiet the crowd; he wasn't allowed to. The AGI executives had warned beforehand that they were sending a message with this sale. Heckling and humiliation were to be tolerated without interference.
But that didn't mean the auctioneer had to like it. Honestly, we were professional back in my day... He waited until the laughter died and continued as though there had been no interruption: "...His abilities are free-range and do not have prerequisites, although he is forced to shift on full moons. He is an animal-only shapeshifter, unable to imitate inanimate objects or other humans - "
A woman's voice cut him off this time. "So let's see it! I want to see what I'd be paying for!"
"And get his clothes off while you're at it!" someone seconded, prompting a round of laughter and leering agreement.
Sam blanched.
When: Thursday, March 31st, afternoon
Where: Grand Lenore auction house
Summary: A shapeshifter is sold.
Warnings: Dark themes, suggestive language, nudity.
((Action tags preferred for the sake of ease.))
--
--
"SOLD!" The slam of the gavel echoed through the room. "At fourteen thousand to bidder #83!"
The young, scaled woman on stage - hollow-eyed, blank, as if she no longer cared what happened to her or where she was sent - was taken off stage, and the elderly auctioneer smiled kindly at his audience. "Grand Lenore hopes you sincerely enjoy your purchase, sir; I understand serpent mutants are very in vogue this year.
"As per our program, next is Lot #2337: thirty-five-years-old, white, shapeshifter, male - "
Behind the lavish curtains, a thick hand fell on Sam's shoulder and shoved him forward. "Your turn, shifter."
Days spent with too little food or sleep had weakened him severely. Sam stumbled, sending the guard a wide-eyed, shaking gaze. But there was no sympathy to be found there. This was it; he was going to be sold. It wasn't fair. He wasn't ready. There was supposed to be more time.
The guard walked him out all the same, the heavy weight of his palm a guiding force to center stage. It was all for show. The guard didn't really matter; just as the cuffs around his wrist were little more than props. Restraints weren't necessary; not when they had a seven-year-old telepath behind the stage, ready to make sure the slaves stuck to the script. Sam had run into the girl once during his "training", after trying to shift and escape during a health check-up. He hadn't known she was in the hallway.
Her mind had shoved its way into his body, piloting him like a Sam-suit to force him back to human. It had been painful. He'd been dragged back to his cell for punishment, and as they'd passed the blindfolded girl (the slaves often debated whether she was truly blind or whether her eyes were too demonic to show) she had smiled and laughed and shaken a finger at him.
It was his first and last escape attempt.
The guard stopped him at center stage with a grunt, then walked off. Sam stood barefoot and uncertain before the crowd, feet away from the podium - awkwardly alone beneath the bright, hot stage lights. He'd thought the pre-auction viewing would be the worst of it, when they'd been gawked at by the prospective buyers like zoo animals in their cages. Compared to that, he couldn't imagine that the bidding would be as bad. But paralyzing vulnerability swept over him now as he stared out at a crowd full of unfriendly faces. No, he'd been wrong - this was a worse display by far.
The crowd was full of the rich and finely dressed; most were in business suits, which was an uncomfortable contrast against his thin gray boxers. (Lucky that he'd been left with that much; Sam had seen those pre-determined to sell as sex slaves brought out naked.) Sam's uncertain gaze searched the crowd (mostly men, he noticed, despite some scattered women), uncomfortable about meeting anyone's eyes but too hopeful to turn towards the wood beneath his feet.
...He didn't see Edgeworth. Maybe he'd sent someone in his place. The lawyer was a noticeable figure, after all; he wouldn't want to draw suspicion. Yeah. If they were going to bid him out of this like they had for Jack and Sirius, they would send someone who wouldn't draw attention.
But in the back of his mind he could hear Shikamaru's voice, cold and cruel. "He's gonna leave you to rot."
Sam shut his eyes to banish the thought. You're still wrong. It's not true.
The auctioneer continued to drone on, and it took the shifter a minute to register what he was saying. "...IQ, of excellent health and fitness. Experience in bartending and business, and his abilities - "
"Yeah, how'd that business thing work out for him?"
Raucous laughter followed the shout-out, startling Sam and causing the auctioneer to bristle. The older man pinched his lips and tapped irritably at his screen. This wasn't how the auctions here were normally held; there was an expected decorum at Grand Lenore which certainly did not include interrupting the auctioneer. But he made no move to quiet the crowd; he wasn't allowed to. The AGI executives had warned beforehand that they were sending a message with this sale. Heckling and humiliation were to be tolerated without interference.
But that didn't mean the auctioneer had to like it. Honestly, we were professional back in my day... He waited until the laughter died and continued as though there had been no interruption: "...His abilities are free-range and do not have prerequisites, although he is forced to shift on full moons. He is an animal-only shapeshifter, unable to imitate inanimate objects or other humans - "
A woman's voice cut him off this time. "So let's see it! I want to see what I'd be paying for!"
"And get his clothes off while you're at it!" someone seconded, prompting a round of laughter and leering agreement.
Sam blanched.