ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

iamthefirechild:

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave

Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.

This person’s eyes were as vividly green as the other three’s, but there was a wildness and a fierceness to her gaze that the others lacked. There were other folk on the estate — there had to be. Four women, however talented, could not care for such a place alone. But none of those folk were permitted to deal with new slaves.

She stayed in the doorway, holding his eyes across the room. In one hand was the folder Summer had tried to offer him. A flicker of change, there and gone in a blink, passed over her face. A flash of gold eyes, a glimpse of fangs between parted lips, a suggestion of striped fur — this woman was a shapeshifter too.

“This is why she asked you to stay. To learn how to be free again.” Carelessly, she tossed the folder on the bed, folding her arms. “Time to choose, Hale.”

Derek took in the look of the other and was somehow more relaxed than he’d been with the other more mild mannered of the ones that all seemed so similar but different as the seasons. He saw the hint of shift and his shoulders drooped, a half a scowl on his face. 

“You all need to work on your approach,” he said almost plaintively if it wasn’t so grumpy. “I do want to learn how to be free again but it’s a process and a little patience would be nice in that process,” he said, glaring at the folder. He was not going to get the hang of it in a day, he could hardly believe people waited at the door to be let in. With the apparent exception of Summer who’d been there when he woke up. He would have preferred she waited too… Nothing had gone so well since.

“Most of us are desperate to be free. We seize it and run. Or beg.” She ran her fingers through her short hair.

“You’re passive.” It made it hard /not/ to treat him as a slave. Autumn figured he was testing them, waiting to see if they kept their word. Summer was afraid he was too broken to be saves. They had those sometimes.

It usually took Summer a week to recover from what she saw as failure.

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

iamthefirechild:

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave

Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.

After a long time, a sharp tap came at his door. An unfamiliar voice called, “I know you’re in there. Please open the door. I swear I just want to talk.”

Derek had almost drifted off sitting in the bathtub. He wasn’t paying attention to his senses so he didn’t hear anyone come to the door. The sharp tap startled him upright and his heart hammered as he slowly and stiffly climbed out of the tub. He walked out of the bathroom to unlock the door and then backing up across the room, near the door to the bathroom again as he waited for whoever it was to come in.

This person’s eyes were as vividly green as the other three’s, but there was a wildness and a fierceness to her gaze that the others lacked. There were other folk on the estate — there had to be. Four women, however talented, could not care for such a place alone. But none of those folk were permitted to deal with new slaves.

She stayed in the doorway, holding his eyes across the room. In one hand was the folder Summer had tried to offer him. A flicker of change, there and gone in a blink, passed over her face. A flash of gold eyes, a glimpse of fangs between parted lips, a suggestion of striped fur — this woman was a shapeshifter too.

“This is why she asked you to stay. To learn how to be free again.” Carelessly, she tossed the folder on the bed, folding her arms. “Time to choose, Hale.”

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

iamthefirechild:

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave

Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.

A quiet tap of footsteps heralded Summer’s return. “Yes, you do,” she said, offering him a folder. “You have a pension. Every slave we free draws a pension. You can take it and go, if you like, or you can stay and work for it. I do still need a bodyguard.”

Derek was extremely uncomfortable. There was something unsettling about these assured people and their ways that he just wasn’t used to. It was all well thought out but Derek very nearly felt like he was backed into a corner. Figuratively. He’d chosen the literal corner to occupy in this room.

Spring’s face was still impassive, calm, but Summer closed her eyes, looking pained. She pulled her hand back, then laid the folder on the little table by the door, on top of the few medical tools there. “This is why I wish you could trust us, just a little. Everything we do makes you afraid. I don’t understand it! There’s no trick, no trap, you can ask any question you like, do anything you like!”

She buried her face in her hands, and Spring came to place a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “I told you,” she said softly, looking at Derek. “She takes it as a personal insult. Please go, for now.”

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

iamthefirechild:

ripyourthroatoutwithmyteeth:

Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave

Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.

“You’re free.”

Spring didn’t adorn it, or soften it, merely laying the statement out baldly. “All that’s left is giving you the papers. Summer went to fetch them.” She swung her legs a bit, still watching him closely.

“We hoped you might want to stay.” It’s an odd quirk of speech they all have, saying ‘we’ where most people would use singular pronouns. “Your name has power, among the preternatural.”

Derek didn’t know what to say. To any of that. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t … have any means of living.” he said almost too quietly, a new fear creeping in on him. He’d heard of bought slaves being released because they weren’t good enough. They starved out on the streets, trying to scrape by on any goodwill. They didn’t usually make it. 

A quiet tap of footsteps heralded Summer’s return. “Yes, you do,” she said, offering him a folder. “You have a pension. Every slave we free draws a pension. You can take it and go, if you like, or you can stay and work for it. I do still need a bodyguard.”