And now for something slightly longer
Jul. 20th, 2008 08:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeYes, this is the first story in another Flashback Miniseries. No, I haven't forgotten about Lee or Crimson.
The first glimpse Jer got of the new kid was mid-fall, and it looked pretty good on him; back arched and head tilted back with the force of the master's backhand, elbows flung out, ridiculously long black hair flying every which way, right before he hit the wall and, instead of crumpling to the floor and staying down like any slave with half a brain, launching himself back up off it and hurling himself at Argounov, head lowered like a charging goat.
Jer was intrigued, not only by the stupid hair-- the boy must have been owned by a woman, before-- and the stupider attack (with his hands manacled behind his back!), but by the kid's expression when Argounov grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, hard. He looked ready to bite the bit gag in half, and his eyes were huge and frantic like the eyes of a spooked horse, and his face was bruised and blotched with livid marks against a background of nearly bloodless white. The effect, against the wildly disheveled dark hair, made him look like a lunatic, but in an interesting way. It was... striking.
Speaking of striking, Argounov reared back and hit the kid across the face again; he fell, this time to his knees, and when he started to try to struggle to his feet, the master kicked him in the ribs with a booted foot, hard enough that he toppled over onto his side with a choked noise and started gasping for breath. He was struggling to right himself at once, but he was finding it hard going. While he worked at it, Argounov looked up at the silently watching cluster of slaves and smiled, like somebody who'd just won a fight. Which he had, of course. Like somebody who'd just won a fair fight, then.
"This is Holden," he said, conversationally. "I know you'll all see that he settles in properly. Who's in charge? Jer?"
"Yes, master," said Jer, bowing his head briefly in acknowledgement. Argounov didn't demand any more routine obeisance than that, on the slaves' corridor.
"Good," said Argounov, with another smile, this one specific to Jer, and reassuringly appreciative. "You'll be able to handle him, if anyone can."
Which made Jer sound a little like a hired thug, but whatever pleased the master.
"I'll do my best, master," he said, with another small bow, and then, seeing that the kid-- Holden, apparently-- had managed to struggle back to his knees and was about to use his shackled legs to sweep the master's legs out from under him-- which would absolutely not end well for anyone involved-- stepped forward swiftly, hooked his hands under Holden's armpits, and dragged him backwards out of the master's way. The kid started squirming around again in a getting-ideas kind of way, and Jer put a discouraging foot on the small of his back.
"I'll leave you to it, then," said the master, who obviously didn't want to spend too much time around Holden until he was a little more broken in, even though he probably had no idea how close he'd just come to faceplanting. "Try not to break any bones. And someone put that hair in a braid, or it's going to be an unholy mess."
"Yes, master," said Jer again as Argounov gave him one more approving smile, and then turned on his heel and left the corridor.
"This is going to be a blast," said Candys, eyeing Holden, who had very suddenly stopped thrashing and was lying perfectly still under Jer's foot on the ground.
"I'm on it," said Jer, kneeling down cautiously beside the suspiciously immobile body. His suspicions were warranted; Holden immediately tried to headbutt him. Jer was prepared, though, and slammed the other boy's shoulders backwards onto the ground, making Holden grunt with surprise and rage, and maybe some pain, given his already-impressive collection of bruises.
"Hey," said Jer firmly. "Settle down, okay? I'm going to get the gag out. I assume you're good with that."
Holden narrowed his eyes, but settled down enough for Jer to unbuckle the gag at the back and pry it off the teeth that had sunk a little deep into the bit. Then he just lay there, trembling and glaring.
"It's okay," Jer started, running a soothing hand over one shoulder, and Holden jerked away as if he'd slapped him in the face with his dick, instead.
"Get your hands off me!" he yelled, and when Jer rolled his eyes, let loose with a series of curses that blended the good solid religious obscenities of Jer's childhood with some of the prettified oaths you normally only heard from noblemen. His voice was hoarse and so full of rage it was about to split, but Jer kind of liked it.
"Settle down," he said again, punctuating his point with a light slap across Holden's already bruised face. Holden actually bared his teeth with what sounded a lot like a hiss.
"Nice chops," said Jer, "but bite me-- or anybody-- and the gag goes right the fuck back in, got that?"
Holden subsided a little at that, though he was still glaring at Jer like he was trying to light him on fire with his brain.
"My name's Jer," Jer continued, ignoring the glare. "The brunette is Candys, the one with big tits is Penny, and the skinny guy is Aron. I'm the main one you have to worry about right now, because I outrank everybody on this hall, at least for the next five minutes, and I rank the hell out of you, Holden. We all do. So you better stop worrying about whether somebody's got their hands on you and start worrying about whether it hurts or not. That's what it's going to come down to for a while, here."
Holden stared at him for a while as if he were speaking complete gibberish, and then said, very quietly, "I don't belong here."
"You will, soon enough," said Jer, not without sympathy. "It's okay. I'll show you around."
"You're not going to hog him all to yourself, are you?" Penny demanded from behind Jer. "He's the only one I outrank right now. I think I should get my fair share."
"Nobody gets any shares until he's a little more settled in," said Jer. "I've got to get his hair combed out and braided, too."
"You leave my hair alone," said Holden, with a sudden return of ferocity. Mood swings. Great.
"I can't," Jer said, shrugging. "Master's orders. Besides, it's tangled enough already that it's going to be a bitch to comb. You'll be better off with it braided up out of the way."
Holden had another convenient mood swing and followed Jer passively, still manacled and shackled, to the dressing room. He didn't even resist when Jer sat him down in front of one of the mirrored vanity tables that lined the walls.
"We mostly use these for makeup," he said. "Do you know how to put on makeup?"
"No," said Holden, in that quiet voice again.
"Yeah, it doesn't look like it. I'll teach you if you want. You don't have to use it unless the master tells you specifically, but he likes it."
"I don't give a good goddamn what your stinking master likes," said Holden, and stiffened furiously, but didn't resist, as Jer gathered up the tangled masses of black hair in one hand and picked up a comb with the other.
"You better learn to give one, then," he said, starting to comb, "or you won't last long around here."
"I won't last long here anyway," said Holden.
Jer pulled sharply on his hair, semi-intentionally-- the kid would get nowhere with an attitude like that-- and Holden sucked in his breath, but he'd apparently decided that fighting while chained up was counterproductive. Or fighting Jer was. Jer hoped it was the latter; it would certainly make his life easier in the foreseeable future.
"That's no way to talk," he said, tugging the comb through Holden's tangled hair. "You'll do fine."
"I won't be here long," said Holden through his teeth. "My master will come for me."
That took Jer a second, especially since he'd still been assuming that Holden's last owner had been a woman, but when he got it, he said, "You've got a new master now, you know. The old one sold you."
"No he didn't!"
Jer snorted. "What, you got kidnapped?"
"Sort of," said Holden, with a blend of defiance and confusion that came out sounding both crazy and sad. "It's-- it's some mistake. I know he'll come for me."
"Yeah, well, maybe so," said Jer, who really didn't feel like getting into this kid's psychotic delusions right now, especially since he'd already shown a tendency to get violent. "But if you want to still be in one piece when he gets here, you better start acting right. Stick with me and you'll be okay. Although, if the master doesn't decide to cut your hair, you're going to have to tend to it yourself from now on. I'm not your valet."
"He can't cut my hair," said Holden, going even whiter. "He wouldn't dare."
Jer sighed.
"Stick with me," he said again. "I'll try not to let you get killed."
The first glimpse Jer got of the new kid was mid-fall, and it looked pretty good on him; back arched and head tilted back with the force of the master's backhand, elbows flung out, ridiculously long black hair flying every which way, right before he hit the wall and, instead of crumpling to the floor and staying down like any slave with half a brain, launching himself back up off it and hurling himself at Argounov, head lowered like a charging goat.
Jer was intrigued, not only by the stupid hair-- the boy must have been owned by a woman, before-- and the stupider attack (with his hands manacled behind his back!), but by the kid's expression when Argounov grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, hard. He looked ready to bite the bit gag in half, and his eyes were huge and frantic like the eyes of a spooked horse, and his face was bruised and blotched with livid marks against a background of nearly bloodless white. The effect, against the wildly disheveled dark hair, made him look like a lunatic, but in an interesting way. It was... striking.
Speaking of striking, Argounov reared back and hit the kid across the face again; he fell, this time to his knees, and when he started to try to struggle to his feet, the master kicked him in the ribs with a booted foot, hard enough that he toppled over onto his side with a choked noise and started gasping for breath. He was struggling to right himself at once, but he was finding it hard going. While he worked at it, Argounov looked up at the silently watching cluster of slaves and smiled, like somebody who'd just won a fight. Which he had, of course. Like somebody who'd just won a fair fight, then.
"This is Holden," he said, conversationally. "I know you'll all see that he settles in properly. Who's in charge? Jer?"
"Yes, master," said Jer, bowing his head briefly in acknowledgement. Argounov didn't demand any more routine obeisance than that, on the slaves' corridor.
"Good," said Argounov, with another smile, this one specific to Jer, and reassuringly appreciative. "You'll be able to handle him, if anyone can."
Which made Jer sound a little like a hired thug, but whatever pleased the master.
"I'll do my best, master," he said, with another small bow, and then, seeing that the kid-- Holden, apparently-- had managed to struggle back to his knees and was about to use his shackled legs to sweep the master's legs out from under him-- which would absolutely not end well for anyone involved-- stepped forward swiftly, hooked his hands under Holden's armpits, and dragged him backwards out of the master's way. The kid started squirming around again in a getting-ideas kind of way, and Jer put a discouraging foot on the small of his back.
"I'll leave you to it, then," said the master, who obviously didn't want to spend too much time around Holden until he was a little more broken in, even though he probably had no idea how close he'd just come to faceplanting. "Try not to break any bones. And someone put that hair in a braid, or it's going to be an unholy mess."
"Yes, master," said Jer again as Argounov gave him one more approving smile, and then turned on his heel and left the corridor.
"This is going to be a blast," said Candys, eyeing Holden, who had very suddenly stopped thrashing and was lying perfectly still under Jer's foot on the ground.
"I'm on it," said Jer, kneeling down cautiously beside the suspiciously immobile body. His suspicions were warranted; Holden immediately tried to headbutt him. Jer was prepared, though, and slammed the other boy's shoulders backwards onto the ground, making Holden grunt with surprise and rage, and maybe some pain, given his already-impressive collection of bruises.
"Hey," said Jer firmly. "Settle down, okay? I'm going to get the gag out. I assume you're good with that."
Holden narrowed his eyes, but settled down enough for Jer to unbuckle the gag at the back and pry it off the teeth that had sunk a little deep into the bit. Then he just lay there, trembling and glaring.
"It's okay," Jer started, running a soothing hand over one shoulder, and Holden jerked away as if he'd slapped him in the face with his dick, instead.
"Get your hands off me!" he yelled, and when Jer rolled his eyes, let loose with a series of curses that blended the good solid religious obscenities of Jer's childhood with some of the prettified oaths you normally only heard from noblemen. His voice was hoarse and so full of rage it was about to split, but Jer kind of liked it.
"Settle down," he said again, punctuating his point with a light slap across Holden's already bruised face. Holden actually bared his teeth with what sounded a lot like a hiss.
"Nice chops," said Jer, "but bite me-- or anybody-- and the gag goes right the fuck back in, got that?"
Holden subsided a little at that, though he was still glaring at Jer like he was trying to light him on fire with his brain.
"My name's Jer," Jer continued, ignoring the glare. "The brunette is Candys, the one with big tits is Penny, and the skinny guy is Aron. I'm the main one you have to worry about right now, because I outrank everybody on this hall, at least for the next five minutes, and I rank the hell out of you, Holden. We all do. So you better stop worrying about whether somebody's got their hands on you and start worrying about whether it hurts or not. That's what it's going to come down to for a while, here."
Holden stared at him for a while as if he were speaking complete gibberish, and then said, very quietly, "I don't belong here."
"You will, soon enough," said Jer, not without sympathy. "It's okay. I'll show you around."
"You're not going to hog him all to yourself, are you?" Penny demanded from behind Jer. "He's the only one I outrank right now. I think I should get my fair share."
"Nobody gets any shares until he's a little more settled in," said Jer. "I've got to get his hair combed out and braided, too."
"You leave my hair alone," said Holden, with a sudden return of ferocity. Mood swings. Great.
"I can't," Jer said, shrugging. "Master's orders. Besides, it's tangled enough already that it's going to be a bitch to comb. You'll be better off with it braided up out of the way."
Holden had another convenient mood swing and followed Jer passively, still manacled and shackled, to the dressing room. He didn't even resist when Jer sat him down in front of one of the mirrored vanity tables that lined the walls.
"We mostly use these for makeup," he said. "Do you know how to put on makeup?"
"No," said Holden, in that quiet voice again.
"Yeah, it doesn't look like it. I'll teach you if you want. You don't have to use it unless the master tells you specifically, but he likes it."
"I don't give a good goddamn what your stinking master likes," said Holden, and stiffened furiously, but didn't resist, as Jer gathered up the tangled masses of black hair in one hand and picked up a comb with the other.
"You better learn to give one, then," he said, starting to comb, "or you won't last long around here."
"I won't last long here anyway," said Holden.
Jer pulled sharply on his hair, semi-intentionally-- the kid would get nowhere with an attitude like that-- and Holden sucked in his breath, but he'd apparently decided that fighting while chained up was counterproductive. Or fighting Jer was. Jer hoped it was the latter; it would certainly make his life easier in the foreseeable future.
"That's no way to talk," he said, tugging the comb through Holden's tangled hair. "You'll do fine."
"I won't be here long," said Holden through his teeth. "My master will come for me."
That took Jer a second, especially since he'd still been assuming that Holden's last owner had been a woman, but when he got it, he said, "You've got a new master now, you know. The old one sold you."
"No he didn't!"
Jer snorted. "What, you got kidnapped?"
"Sort of," said Holden, with a blend of defiance and confusion that came out sounding both crazy and sad. "It's-- it's some mistake. I know he'll come for me."
"Yeah, well, maybe so," said Jer, who really didn't feel like getting into this kid's psychotic delusions right now, especially since he'd already shown a tendency to get violent. "But if you want to still be in one piece when he gets here, you better start acting right. Stick with me and you'll be okay. Although, if the master doesn't decide to cut your hair, you're going to have to tend to it yourself from now on. I'm not your valet."
"He can't cut my hair," said Holden, going even whiter. "He wouldn't dare."
Jer sighed.
"Stick with me," he said again. "I'll try not to let you get killed."
