Bethas 7th, 2718 - Late evening
“Just leave it Sarinah, if you know what’s good for you.” Bridgette said gently, watching her young successor with crossed arms and a stern frown from the door, as though physically stopping her. The brunette stood facing her with hands on hips and a scowl.
“Ne! Get out of the way rosh. I can’t just ignore it, ye chen? Five maw, Bridgette. Five clocking maw, and I ent even sure what I signed up for. Ye have a contract? Do ye?” The woman sighed and moved forward to grasp her shoulders and meet her angry brown gaze.
“Yes, yes I have a contract and—“
“And ye know that it says oes? You can buy ye way out?” The wick asked, brow furrowed as she argued with the woman, trying to figure out how she seemed to be the only one that didn’t know what they’d signed up for. It wasn’t true, she couldn’t be the only one, but it seemed like it. Bridgette sighed heavily, unsure how to say the right thing without upsetting the dancer more.
“No love, I don’t...I already. I already paid my debt. I get my own birds now inste—“ The witch pulled away with a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
“What? Wh...but how....but...so you’re here because ye want to be? Why Bridgette? Why?” She said with a break in her voice. Why would anyone stay here, in this place of hurt and sin, when they were free to leave. The grey haired woman opened her mouth, wanting to explain, but was pushed aside as Sarinah stormed from the room. Still dressed in the uniform Scarlett gave her, the indecently covered witch stalked the hall and up the stairs, ignoring the lewd remarks or pleas for more dancing as she emerged on the floor.
“Where do you think you’re going, whore?” Wesley grumbled from his perch at the bar, watching the dancer as she moved past him. Sarinah didn’t answer, continuing her path to the stairs that led up and out of the brothel. Moving to follow her, the large wick grabbed for her hand, but for once she was faster taking the stairs at a run and bursting onto the deck in the dark and the rain. Turning she stopped at the doors of Scarlett’s private quarters and banged on the doors hard.
“Scarlett! Scarlett I know ye in there! I need to talk to ye!” Wesley finally reached the deck, wheezing and red faced. He growled, storming across the wet wood and grabbing her wrist hard.
“I asked you a fuc—“
“Let her go Wesley.” A calm feminine voice said gently as the red doors opened. The Madame stood in her doorway, dressed in her open silk robe, a crimson corset and red stockings. Her hair was held up in a perfectly pinned set of curls and between two ruby painted fingernails she sported her thin long cigarette holder. The man glared at the brunette dancer for a tick longer, before throwing her hand down and crossing his arms. Scarlett smiled, a crocodiles smile, and gestured for Sarinah to enter. Without ceremony, she closed the doors behind her, leaving Wesley outside in the rain.
Sarinah looked around the quarters, overwhelmed by red decor and lavish trimmings of gold and lace. From the ceiling hung small brass baubles from chains that left a slowly curling trail of heavily scented incense, enough to make her feel physically ill. Turning, she faced the woman with a deep breath.
“I want to know the terms of my contract, rosh.” She said boldly, anger thrumming in her ears. The red haired Madame raised an eyebrow slowly, before puffing on her cigarette and striding languidly across the room to pick up a half drunk glass of whiskey from the bedside table. Swirling the drink, she looked at Sarinah.
“Now why in Vita would you want to know that Dove? Did our Tristaan put some words in your head? That’s kind of him. Good man that one.” Sipping her whiskey, Scarlett looked the woman over, taking in the defiant tilt of her chin and the clenched fists by her side.
“You signed yourself to the service of Silas Hawke, with permission to work under Scarlett Jezebel for an indefinite period of time. The terms of your usage were very clearly outlined in the document. Did...did you not read that? Tsk, Dove, you should always read things before you sign them.” She said calmly, taking a long drag of her cigarette, yellow eyes all the while holding Sarinah’s firmly. The wick blushed heavily, rage building within.
“Ye knew I couldn’t read it. Ye tricked me, and I ent doing this anymore. I want to know what my terms of payout are.” The redhead chuckled, blowing out the smoke and turning to put out the cigarette in a small glass ashtray.
“Payout? You must mean indentured slavery. That’s not what we have here Dove. According to your contract, Hawke owns you. Indefinitely. There is no debt to pay. You are his property.” Sarinah shook her head, taking a step towards the woman.
“Ye liar! There’s gotta be...something. A condition. Ye can’t keep me forever.” The red head smiled, reaching out to stroke the girls face, frowning when Sarinah pulled back from her. Curling her fingers into the air, the Madame crossed her arms again and shrugged.
“You’ll have to take it up with Hawke. He wrote it, you signed it. That dancing you do earns a significant income for him. Even if there was a figure on your freedom, it’s probably more than you could possibly find. You got problems, take it up with him.” Finishing her whiskey, the red head placed the glass on the table and adjusted her robe, as non-plussed as if they were speaking about the weather. The brunette took a deep breath, gritting her teeth against the anger even as the idea of seeing Hawke sent a chill up her spine. It was one thing to confront Scarlett, it was another to confront the King. She stood mute for a moment, unable to find the words she wanted to say.
“Look, my pretty birdy. You got a good deal here, okay? You dance, and you’ve got away for years not having to part your legs for the gents.” Approaching the dancer, she smiled again, reaching out to fix the witches hair. Sarinah stood still, tears welling in her eyes, wanting to punch the woman.
“But I know a few with more birds then sense, and their offers are beginning to sound awfully tempting. I’m not entirely sure I can keep the wolves off your back for much longer, ye chen?” The sultry Madame threatened softly, fussing over the dancers outfit as though it was perfectly normal. Placing her hands on the girls shoulders, Scarlett smiled at her almost maternally.
“You keep dancing, and get those silly ideas out of that pretty head of yours, and I’ll keep things like they are. You’re always welcome to talk to Silas, of course, but I can’t promise those gents wouldn’t come back with a sum that is just too good to refuse.” Sarinah felt the hot tears on her cheeks as Scarlett made her choices clear, dance and shut her head, or keep chasing her freedom and open her legs.
She couldn’t win.
“Now, my lovely Dove. Dry your eyes, have a good stiff shot of something hard, and go do your job.” Guiding the witch to her doors, Scarlett ushered her out, smiling as the young woman moved with a defeated slump. Sarinah swallowed back the angry sobs as she walked, leaning against the handrail of the stairs as she felt the tears overwhelming her. Stopping on the steps, she took a shuddering breath, before lifting her chin and straightening her back.
The show must go on, for now.
Scarlett stood beside Wesley in the rain, watching the dejected woman as she left with a hard frown. Once she could no longer see the girl, she spoke.
“Find that clocking wick, and make sure he minds his clocking business. I don’t care how you do it.” With a sweep of crimson fabric, she returned to her quarters and slammed the door shut as Wesley grinned slowly, popping his knuckles loudly.
“With pleasure, my Queen.”
“Ne! Get out of the way rosh. I can’t just ignore it, ye chen? Five maw, Bridgette. Five clocking maw, and I ent even sure what I signed up for. Ye have a contract? Do ye?” The woman sighed and moved forward to grasp her shoulders and meet her angry brown gaze.
“Yes, yes I have a contract and—“
“And ye know that it says oes? You can buy ye way out?” The wick asked, brow furrowed as she argued with the woman, trying to figure out how she seemed to be the only one that didn’t know what they’d signed up for. It wasn’t true, she couldn’t be the only one, but it seemed like it. Bridgette sighed heavily, unsure how to say the right thing without upsetting the dancer more.
“No love, I don’t...I already. I already paid my debt. I get my own birds now inste—“ The witch pulled away with a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
“What? Wh...but how....but...so you’re here because ye want to be? Why Bridgette? Why?” She said with a break in her voice. Why would anyone stay here, in this place of hurt and sin, when they were free to leave. The grey haired woman opened her mouth, wanting to explain, but was pushed aside as Sarinah stormed from the room. Still dressed in the uniform Scarlett gave her, the indecently covered witch stalked the hall and up the stairs, ignoring the lewd remarks or pleas for more dancing as she emerged on the floor.
“Where do you think you’re going, whore?” Wesley grumbled from his perch at the bar, watching the dancer as she moved past him. Sarinah didn’t answer, continuing her path to the stairs that led up and out of the brothel. Moving to follow her, the large wick grabbed for her hand, but for once she was faster taking the stairs at a run and bursting onto the deck in the dark and the rain. Turning she stopped at the doors of Scarlett’s private quarters and banged on the doors hard.
“Scarlett! Scarlett I know ye in there! I need to talk to ye!” Wesley finally reached the deck, wheezing and red faced. He growled, storming across the wet wood and grabbing her wrist hard.
“I asked you a fuc—“
“Let her go Wesley.” A calm feminine voice said gently as the red doors opened. The Madame stood in her doorway, dressed in her open silk robe, a crimson corset and red stockings. Her hair was held up in a perfectly pinned set of curls and between two ruby painted fingernails she sported her thin long cigarette holder. The man glared at the brunette dancer for a tick longer, before throwing her hand down and crossing his arms. Scarlett smiled, a crocodiles smile, and gestured for Sarinah to enter. Without ceremony, she closed the doors behind her, leaving Wesley outside in the rain.
Sarinah looked around the quarters, overwhelmed by red decor and lavish trimmings of gold and lace. From the ceiling hung small brass baubles from chains that left a slowly curling trail of heavily scented incense, enough to make her feel physically ill. Turning, she faced the woman with a deep breath.
“I want to know the terms of my contract, rosh.” She said boldly, anger thrumming in her ears. The red haired Madame raised an eyebrow slowly, before puffing on her cigarette and striding languidly across the room to pick up a half drunk glass of whiskey from the bedside table. Swirling the drink, she looked at Sarinah.
“Now why in Vita would you want to know that Dove? Did our Tristaan put some words in your head? That’s kind of him. Good man that one.” Sipping her whiskey, Scarlett looked the woman over, taking in the defiant tilt of her chin and the clenched fists by her side.
“You signed yourself to the service of Silas Hawke, with permission to work under Scarlett Jezebel for an indefinite period of time. The terms of your usage were very clearly outlined in the document. Did...did you not read that? Tsk, Dove, you should always read things before you sign them.” She said calmly, taking a long drag of her cigarette, yellow eyes all the while holding Sarinah’s firmly. The wick blushed heavily, rage building within.
“Ye knew I couldn’t read it. Ye tricked me, and I ent doing this anymore. I want to know what my terms of payout are.” The redhead chuckled, blowing out the smoke and turning to put out the cigarette in a small glass ashtray.
“Payout? You must mean indentured slavery. That’s not what we have here Dove. According to your contract, Hawke owns you. Indefinitely. There is no debt to pay. You are his property.” Sarinah shook her head, taking a step towards the woman.
“Ye liar! There’s gotta be...something. A condition. Ye can’t keep me forever.” The red head smiled, reaching out to stroke the girls face, frowning when Sarinah pulled back from her. Curling her fingers into the air, the Madame crossed her arms again and shrugged.
“You’ll have to take it up with Hawke. He wrote it, you signed it. That dancing you do earns a significant income for him. Even if there was a figure on your freedom, it’s probably more than you could possibly find. You got problems, take it up with him.” Finishing her whiskey, the red head placed the glass on the table and adjusted her robe, as non-plussed as if they were speaking about the weather. The brunette took a deep breath, gritting her teeth against the anger even as the idea of seeing Hawke sent a chill up her spine. It was one thing to confront Scarlett, it was another to confront the King. She stood mute for a moment, unable to find the words she wanted to say.
“Look, my pretty birdy. You got a good deal here, okay? You dance, and you’ve got away for years not having to part your legs for the gents.” Approaching the dancer, she smiled again, reaching out to fix the witches hair. Sarinah stood still, tears welling in her eyes, wanting to punch the woman.
“But I know a few with more birds then sense, and their offers are beginning to sound awfully tempting. I’m not entirely sure I can keep the wolves off your back for much longer, ye chen?” The sultry Madame threatened softly, fussing over the dancers outfit as though it was perfectly normal. Placing her hands on the girls shoulders, Scarlett smiled at her almost maternally.
“You keep dancing, and get those silly ideas out of that pretty head of yours, and I’ll keep things like they are. You’re always welcome to talk to Silas, of course, but I can’t promise those gents wouldn’t come back with a sum that is just too good to refuse.” Sarinah felt the hot tears on her cheeks as Scarlett made her choices clear, dance and shut her head, or keep chasing her freedom and open her legs.
She couldn’t win.
“Now, my lovely Dove. Dry your eyes, have a good stiff shot of something hard, and go do your job.” Guiding the witch to her doors, Scarlett ushered her out, smiling as the young woman moved with a defeated slump. Sarinah swallowed back the angry sobs as she walked, leaning against the handrail of the stairs as she felt the tears overwhelming her. Stopping on the steps, she took a shuddering breath, before lifting her chin and straightening her back.
The show must go on, for now.
Scarlett stood beside Wesley in the rain, watching the dejected woman as she left with a hard frown. Once she could no longer see the girl, she spoke.
“Find that clocking wick, and make sure he minds his clocking business. I don’t care how you do it.” With a sweep of crimson fabric, she returned to her quarters and slammed the door shut as Wesley grinned slowly, popping his knuckles loudly.
“With pleasure, my Queen.”
