*cracks knuckles*
Aug. 23rd, 2008 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeI am making a concerted effort this weekend to catch up on all things LJ. I currently have eleventy million tabs open in Firefox, and I hope to give all of them a good honest closing. So if you find yourself, sometime this weekend, being commented upon, or replied to, and having to dust off your notifications to figure out what the heck I'm responding to, that's why.
In the meantime, here is a short original slavefic piece, unaffiliated with the Branverse in any way.
Calvin sat huddled on the concrete floor, naked but for his leg irons, hugging his knees to his skinny chest. He knew he should be displaying his body, such as it was-- sexual slavery was the best he could hope for, since he was too weak for manual labor and too unreliable for anything more skilled-- but he was shivering hard enough as it was; the big, drafty building they used for slave auctions was freezing cold in this weather. Calvin's small, slender frame shook with coughs. If someone didn't mark him this morning and buy him this afternoon, he was pretty sure he'd be too sick by tomorrow for anyone to even consider. Not that anybody seemed particularly inclined to consider him as it was.
"Cally," Ben whispered, beside him, and an elbow nudged him in the ribcage. "Look at 'er. Black robes, ginger 'air, four o'clock."
Calvin lifted his eyes in the direction Ben had indicated, and saw a woman in a heavy black woolen robe, its hood thrown back from her vivid red hair, glancing around with an air of discontent.
"Pretty," he said, and coughed again. "Maybe she'll mark you."
"Fat chance," Ben scoffed. "But Cally, don't you know 'oo she is? She's Lady Dosius-- the 'igh priestess of the Church of Thelxinoe."
"She never," said Calvin incredulously, looking again. "She can't be more'n about thirty years old."
"Cross me 'eart," said Ben, unoffended. "Reckon she could tell you a thing or two about them funny spells you get."
"Oh, yeah," said Calvin, slanting his eyes as far towards Ben as he dared. "I'll just mosey on over and 'ave a bit of a chat with 'er then, shall I?"
Ben elbowed him again, harder. "No need to get snotty, Cal."
"Shut the 'ell up, you two," said a voice, and the overseer's boot smashed into Calvin's ribs, knocking the wind out of him, and as he gasped for breath, the only thing he had time to think was No, not now, not here! before the vision took him.
He woke up freezing and in pain, but then, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to wake any other way. What was more noteworthy was that his head was pillowed on something warm and yielding, and he was looking up into a pair of clear, thoughtful green eyes, while a soft-skinned hand smoothed itself over his aching forehead.
"You," he whispered hoarsely, recognizing the red hair, and then, suddenly sensible enough to be terrified by his own rudeness, began overcompensating at random: "Milady, 'ighness, your worship--"
"To most people, it would be 'Your Grace,'" she said, in a low, musical voice, smiling at him as if they were old friends. "But you may call me Mistress Alcyone. What is your name?"
"Calvin, your-- I mean, Missus," said Calvin, still dizzy.
"Calvin," she said softly. "Are you often taken by the goddess, as you were just now?"
Calvin swallowed hard. "I reckon so, Missus-- if that's what it is. I get-- funny spells-- I see things--"
"Ah." The lady-- Mistress Alcyone-- sounded satisfied. "Will you tell me what you saw, just now?"
"A lake, Missus," said Calvin, and swallowed. "At night. And a lady on the shore, with a lantern in 'er 'and."
Alcyone smiled down at him. "Was the lady me, by any chance?"
Calvin bit his lip and nodded, hoping she wouldn't be too angry.
She looked up, at something Calvin didn't dare turn his head to observe. "How does one go about-- that is, what is the procedure for a purchase?"
"You just makes a mark on 'is fore'ead, your grace," said the overseer's voice, obviously trying to mask its bewilderment that the high priestess of one of the most powerful churches in Aglaion was planning to purchase such a sickly and useless specimen, and one, moreover, prone to hysterical fainting fits and impertinent hallucinations. "With that there kohl you was give at the entrance. Then, this afternoon, they brings the marked ones up to auction, and your grace can bid on 'im."
"It seems a little... circuitous," Lady Dosius said, frowning. "And I'm not sure you understand my position. Supers-- or, that is, in the terms of the laity, boys with supernormal sight-- are extremely rare, and they're not only useful as soothsayers; they're tremendous conduits of mystical energy."
Calvin failed to entirely suppress a cough, and she looked back down at him and then added to the overseer, "In addition to which, he seems rather frail, and it's quite cold in this place. Mayn't I simply pay you and take my super-- my slave-- with me now?"
"It ain't regulation," the overseer explained regretfully. "Otherwise I'd be 'appy to oblige your grace."
Alcyone seemed to hesitate, and then she shifted Calvin's head from her lap and propped him back into his sitting position in the line. She reached up with the stick of kohl in her hand and drew a large, emphatic X on his forehead.
"There," she said, rose beautifully, smoothing out her robes, and stood looking down at him irresolutely.
"I hate to simply leave you here," she murmured.
"I'll watch out for 'im, your grace," Ben piped up cheekily; Calvin nearly died of horror at his daring, but Alcyone only looked amused.
"Will you?" she asked, smiling down at Ben. "Are you his friend?"
"Oh yes, your grace," Ben assured her. "'And e's liable to be 'eartbroken if you buys 'im and leaves me be'ind. Ain't you, Cally?"
"Are you, Calvin?" Alcyone asked him seriously.
Calvin bit his lip, but he would miss Ben, who'd taken good care of him in this place. He nodded timidly.
Alcyone smiled and stooped down in front of Ben, making her mark on his freckled forehead.
"Watch over him, then, until we meet again," she said. "He is of great importance."
"Oh, yes, Missus!" said Ben, grinning from ear to ear. "I understand, Missus. 'E's Super Cally, fragile mystic, X'ed by Allie Dosious!"
(Author's note: Oh God, I don't know what came over me. I'll go iron my hands now.)
In the meantime, here is a short original slavefic piece, unaffiliated with the Branverse in any way.
Calvin sat huddled on the concrete floor, naked but for his leg irons, hugging his knees to his skinny chest. He knew he should be displaying his body, such as it was-- sexual slavery was the best he could hope for, since he was too weak for manual labor and too unreliable for anything more skilled-- but he was shivering hard enough as it was; the big, drafty building they used for slave auctions was freezing cold in this weather. Calvin's small, slender frame shook with coughs. If someone didn't mark him this morning and buy him this afternoon, he was pretty sure he'd be too sick by tomorrow for anyone to even consider. Not that anybody seemed particularly inclined to consider him as it was.
"Cally," Ben whispered, beside him, and an elbow nudged him in the ribcage. "Look at 'er. Black robes, ginger 'air, four o'clock."
Calvin lifted his eyes in the direction Ben had indicated, and saw a woman in a heavy black woolen robe, its hood thrown back from her vivid red hair, glancing around with an air of discontent.
"Pretty," he said, and coughed again. "Maybe she'll mark you."
"Fat chance," Ben scoffed. "But Cally, don't you know 'oo she is? She's Lady Dosius-- the 'igh priestess of the Church of Thelxinoe."
"She never," said Calvin incredulously, looking again. "She can't be more'n about thirty years old."
"Cross me 'eart," said Ben, unoffended. "Reckon she could tell you a thing or two about them funny spells you get."
"Oh, yeah," said Calvin, slanting his eyes as far towards Ben as he dared. "I'll just mosey on over and 'ave a bit of a chat with 'er then, shall I?"
Ben elbowed him again, harder. "No need to get snotty, Cal."
"Shut the 'ell up, you two," said a voice, and the overseer's boot smashed into Calvin's ribs, knocking the wind out of him, and as he gasped for breath, the only thing he had time to think was No, not now, not here! before the vision took him.
He woke up freezing and in pain, but then, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to wake any other way. What was more noteworthy was that his head was pillowed on something warm and yielding, and he was looking up into a pair of clear, thoughtful green eyes, while a soft-skinned hand smoothed itself over his aching forehead.
"You," he whispered hoarsely, recognizing the red hair, and then, suddenly sensible enough to be terrified by his own rudeness, began overcompensating at random: "Milady, 'ighness, your worship--"
"To most people, it would be 'Your Grace,'" she said, in a low, musical voice, smiling at him as if they were old friends. "But you may call me Mistress Alcyone. What is your name?"
"Calvin, your-- I mean, Missus," said Calvin, still dizzy.
"Calvin," she said softly. "Are you often taken by the goddess, as you were just now?"
Calvin swallowed hard. "I reckon so, Missus-- if that's what it is. I get-- funny spells-- I see things--"
"Ah." The lady-- Mistress Alcyone-- sounded satisfied. "Will you tell me what you saw, just now?"
"A lake, Missus," said Calvin, and swallowed. "At night. And a lady on the shore, with a lantern in 'er 'and."
Alcyone smiled down at him. "Was the lady me, by any chance?"
Calvin bit his lip and nodded, hoping she wouldn't be too angry.
She looked up, at something Calvin didn't dare turn his head to observe. "How does one go about-- that is, what is the procedure for a purchase?"
"You just makes a mark on 'is fore'ead, your grace," said the overseer's voice, obviously trying to mask its bewilderment that the high priestess of one of the most powerful churches in Aglaion was planning to purchase such a sickly and useless specimen, and one, moreover, prone to hysterical fainting fits and impertinent hallucinations. "With that there kohl you was give at the entrance. Then, this afternoon, they brings the marked ones up to auction, and your grace can bid on 'im."
"It seems a little... circuitous," Lady Dosius said, frowning. "And I'm not sure you understand my position. Supers-- or, that is, in the terms of the laity, boys with supernormal sight-- are extremely rare, and they're not only useful as soothsayers; they're tremendous conduits of mystical energy."
Calvin failed to entirely suppress a cough, and she looked back down at him and then added to the overseer, "In addition to which, he seems rather frail, and it's quite cold in this place. Mayn't I simply pay you and take my super-- my slave-- with me now?"
"It ain't regulation," the overseer explained regretfully. "Otherwise I'd be 'appy to oblige your grace."
Alcyone seemed to hesitate, and then she shifted Calvin's head from her lap and propped him back into his sitting position in the line. She reached up with the stick of kohl in her hand and drew a large, emphatic X on his forehead.
"There," she said, rose beautifully, smoothing out her robes, and stood looking down at him irresolutely.
"I hate to simply leave you here," she murmured.
"I'll watch out for 'im, your grace," Ben piped up cheekily; Calvin nearly died of horror at his daring, but Alcyone only looked amused.
"Will you?" she asked, smiling down at Ben. "Are you his friend?"
"Oh yes, your grace," Ben assured her. "'And e's liable to be 'eartbroken if you buys 'im and leaves me be'ind. Ain't you, Cally?"
"Are you, Calvin?" Alcyone asked him seriously.
Calvin bit his lip, but he would miss Ben, who'd taken good care of him in this place. He nodded timidly.
Alcyone smiled and stooped down in front of Ben, making her mark on his freckled forehead.
"Watch over him, then, until we meet again," she said. "He is of great importance."
"Oh, yes, Missus!" said Ben, grinning from ear to ear. "I understand, Missus. 'E's Super Cally, fragile mystic, X'ed by Allie Dosious!"
(Author's note: Oh God, I don't know what came over me. I'll go iron my hands now.)
