6 with a shade of 5?inwhichwarJuly 11 2012, 21:47:42 UTC
[Maria doesn't care one way or another about slavery as an institution. This mistreatment of individual slaves is another matter; that she is bothered by, and opposed to. But the institution? She hasn't the energy to commit to hating or supporting anything as sweeping as the institution itself. She has no particular attachment to its abolition, nor to its advancement. It just is what it is, and she has never examined it with any sort of close scrutiny
( ... )
[Ben is watching the patrons with a rather bored and detached air. For the most part, it's same-old, same-old: wealthy bastards trying to impress airheaded bimbos, hard-faced pit trainers looking for their next meal ticket, lonely or predatory souls looking for someone who can't say "no." Most of them don't give someone like Ben a second glance, although one savvy pit trainer favors him with a hard stare and makes a notation on his list before passing by. Ben bares a fang at the man's retreating back.
The lady with the crutch, though. She stands out, definitely not the usual clientele they get around here. Ben keeps his eyes downcast, but he's eyeing her hard, with his head slightly tilted and his nostrils flaring.
She's not normal. That makes her dangerous. He's not afraid, but he is wary as he watches her watching the stock.]
[It's the scars that catch her eye first. Most of the male werewolves have them, to varying degrees, and so do many of the women, but his are particularly hard to miss, especially the elaborate one on his chest. And once the scars have caught her eye, the fact that he's watching her keeps it. It's not the come-hither or the pleading looks some of them have given her; this is wariness, caginess, cleverness.
She stops and leans on her crutch, patently ignoring the slaver who moves over to address her and speaking directly to Ben.]
[The question comes out of nowhere, and Ben blinks, a little nonplussed by it.] I. Uh. [Don't hesitate, idiot. The slaver glares at him and picks up the remote control for the shackles.] They're fine. Patched me up more than once. I like doctors. I mean. I don't like going to them, because who does. But I like that they're there. [At the last second, he remembers to add the honorific.] Mistress.
[She waves the Mistress off like it's a gnat too near her ear, and extends the gesture to take in the slaver while she's at it. Nonsense. Bothersome nonsense.]
So. You wouldn't find it too awful to be around one all day, then? No problems with blood or bandages, no allergy to latex or anything else I would have around? And I should want you to do some heavy lifting, now and again. Sometimes of people. You can do that, yes or no?
[Things are looking up. As long as she's not abusive -- and he's come to know the type, and she doesn't strike him as such -- this might actually be a pretty cushy gig.] Yes, ma'am, I can do all that. I'm used to blood. As long as I don't have to handle anything made of silver, or touch aconite. Mountain ash, rowan. You know. Normal werewolf allergies. Nothing else, though. Ma'am.
Good. Sehr gut, excellent. And bodyguarding, how about that? You look like a fellow who can do that as well, yes? Nothing so serious, only a little bit when fellows get the wrong idea about where I keep the sedatives.
[At that, his aspect goes a little wolfish. Well. More wolfish.] Oh, yes, ma'am. [Ben is a dangerous enemy. He's also a valuable ally to a Master who shows him kindness, and he's got a soft spot for women, although that's bitten him on the ass more than once and you'd think he'd learn.] I know I don't look like much, but I've been in the pits and come out alive, and a few wars too. I know my way around. Mistress.
Very good. So long as you don't get into any fights the other fellows don't start I think you should be just the man I want. You have a name, Volchok, something I can call you?
Ben, Mistress. [Slaves don't get last names. And then he winces, because he'd a hell of a lot rather go with her than with the pit trainer giving him the eye earlier. But he'd better be honest, or he'll find himself back here and his seller will not be happy about it. To the extent that Ben will wind up unconscious from electrical shocks.] I. Uh. One thing.
Syringes.
I'm okay as long as you're not coming at me with the damned things. But... they can be an issue.
[He goes a little limp at that. Ben's not used to having people, Masters, take his issues into consideration, and the fact that someone just has, after decades of no one caring...
It's a big deal. And maybe he's not so good at hiding how big a deal it is.
He closes his eyes, and swallows.] Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.
[She turns aside, pointedly giving him a little space that she disguises as talking business with the trader. Let the man have his moment to recover, God knows she's got nothing to gain by staring at him or prying into that reaction.]
[Ben carefully schools his breathing. Kindness is something that's been thin on the ground for him, and he may take some time getting used to it again. But not too used to it, because he's a slave and could be sold off at any moment to someone not kind.
The trader gives her the usual song and dance about how dangerous werewolves can be, and how she should never, ever, under any circumstances, remove the collar or the shackles. He walks her through the various settings on the controller.
And then he names a price that's patently ridiculous. Ben's heart sinks.]
[Maria's expression changes in less than an instant, hardening and sharpening so that it's clear there's something much more dangerous than is immediately evident, in there under the affability and the casual demeanor.]
Nonsense, and you should be ashamed of yourself besides to try so hard to swindle a cripple. Now talk some sense, rapidissimamente. You understand? Posthaste.
[The trader looks startled and backpedals on the price, to Ben's relief. Clearly the man is not used to being called on his bullshit in such a forthright manner. Something dangerously like hope is kindling in Ben's chest, because he likes her, and he can't remember the last time he liked his Master.
Some instinct makes him look around, and he sees the hard-faced pit trainer heading their way with a glint in his eye.] Oh, God, hurry, please, I don't want to go with that guy... [He realizes he said that out loud and clamps his mouth shut, staring at a pebble on the ground.]
Reply
The lady with the crutch, though. She stands out, definitely not the usual clientele they get around here. Ben keeps his eyes downcast, but he's eyeing her hard, with his head slightly tilted and his nostrils flaring.
She's not normal. That makes her dangerous. He's not afraid, but he is wary as he watches her watching the stock.]
Reply
She stops and leans on her crutch, patently ignoring the slaver who moves over to address her and speaking directly to Ben.]
So tell me, Volchok, how you feel about doctors.
Reply
Reply
[She waves the Mistress off like it's a gnat too near her ear, and extends the gesture to take in the slaver while she's at it. Nonsense. Bothersome nonsense.]
So. You wouldn't find it too awful to be around one all day, then? No problems with blood or bandages, no allergy to latex or anything else I would have around? And I should want you to do some heavy lifting, now and again. Sometimes of people. You can do that, yes or no?
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Syringes.
I'm okay as long as you're not coming at me with the damned things. But... they can be an issue.
Reply
[Her expression softens, just a little, and she nods. There's no sign that she's irritated or put off by the revelation.]
Well, then. If ever it happens I should need to sedate you I'll resort to the gas, then. All right with you, volchok Ben?
Reply
It's a big deal. And maybe he's not so good at hiding how big a deal it is.
He closes his eyes, and swallows.] Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.
Reply
[She turns aside, pointedly giving him a little space that she disguises as talking business with the trader. Let the man have his moment to recover, God knows she's got nothing to gain by staring at him or prying into that reaction.]
Reply
The trader gives her the usual song and dance about how dangerous werewolves can be, and how she should never, ever, under any circumstances, remove the collar or the shackles. He walks her through the various settings on the controller.
And then he names a price that's patently ridiculous. Ben's heart sinks.]
Reply
Nonsense, and you should be ashamed of yourself besides to try so hard to swindle a cripple. Now talk some sense, rapidissimamente. You understand? Posthaste.
Reply
Some instinct makes him look around, and he sees the hard-faced pit trainer heading their way with a glint in his eye.] Oh, God, hurry, please, I don't want to go with that guy... [He realizes he said that out loud and clamps his mouth shut, staring at a pebble on the ground.]
Reply
Leave a comment