Dutch Velders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thisavrou_log2016-07-22 10:13 pm
curiousnotmalicious) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-07-22 10:13 pm
Entry tags:
Closed to Dutch, Trish, and Daisy!
Who: Dutch, Trish, and Daisy
When: The 22nd, nighttime
Where: Slavery Outpost
What: Trish and Daisy rescue Dutch!
Warnings: Some violence
It must have been days that she’d been in that stall. All sorts of people had come to look at her, examining her, appraising her to see if they wanted to buy her. The unfortunate souls in the stalls next to Dutch had come and gone - all bought and sold and gone in the span of those days, but Dutch was left behind. Too spirited, they’d said. Maybe it was the fact that she’d slapped their hands away every time they’d tried to get a feel for her muscle tone. Maybe it was that she spit at anyone who tried to look under her clothing. Whatever the case, all of this misbehavior earned her jolts from the slaver’s cattle prod device and Dutch was very sore with burn marks on her torso at this point.
It was nighttime and though the market was still bustling, the slaver allowed the slaves in the stalls to get a bit of rest. Dutch seized this opportunity to slouch against the back of the stall and close her eyes. She was so sleep deprived that a weird sort of fatigue had taken hold of her limbs. She felt weak and lame and not at all like her usual self. While she normally would be on the Moira wishing she were back in Red Hook, now she was in some stinking stall wishing she was back on the Moira. She’d even take her glass hairdo back if that was a necessary part of the deal.
Even with the days passing with no sight of friendly faces, though, Dutch hadn’t given up hope. The other people aboard the Moira weren’t the sort who gave up on their friends and, while Dutch had very few friends on the ship, she knew she could count on the kindness of strangers, as well. So as she sat stewing on the muddy floor of the stall, she hoped that the next passerby was one with a familiar face. Perhaps someone with a gun or with deep enough pockets to buy her off of the asshole slaver who kept poking her with that damned cattle prod.
When: The 22nd, nighttime
Where: Slavery Outpost
What: Trish and Daisy rescue Dutch!
Warnings: Some violence
It must have been days that she’d been in that stall. All sorts of people had come to look at her, examining her, appraising her to see if they wanted to buy her. The unfortunate souls in the stalls next to Dutch had come and gone - all bought and sold and gone in the span of those days, but Dutch was left behind. Too spirited, they’d said. Maybe it was the fact that she’d slapped their hands away every time they’d tried to get a feel for her muscle tone. Maybe it was that she spit at anyone who tried to look under her clothing. Whatever the case, all of this misbehavior earned her jolts from the slaver’s cattle prod device and Dutch was very sore with burn marks on her torso at this point.
It was nighttime and though the market was still bustling, the slaver allowed the slaves in the stalls to get a bit of rest. Dutch seized this opportunity to slouch against the back of the stall and close her eyes. She was so sleep deprived that a weird sort of fatigue had taken hold of her limbs. She felt weak and lame and not at all like her usual self. While she normally would be on the Moira wishing she were back in Red Hook, now she was in some stinking stall wishing she was back on the Moira. She’d even take her glass hairdo back if that was a necessary part of the deal.
Even with the days passing with no sight of friendly faces, though, Dutch hadn’t given up hope. The other people aboard the Moira weren’t the sort who gave up on their friends and, while Dutch had very few friends on the ship, she knew she could count on the kindness of strangers, as well. So as she sat stewing on the muddy floor of the stall, she hoped that the next passerby was one with a familiar face. Perhaps someone with a gun or with deep enough pockets to buy her off of the asshole slaver who kept poking her with that damned cattle prod.
no subject
"Guess he wasn't expecting that to happen. Are you okay?"
no subject
She hobbled along quickly, eager to get away from the outpost.
no subject
Trish said with dry humour, still holding on to Dutch.
"And you don't owe us anything, Dutch."