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A handful of dust| Open

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A handful of dust| Open

Post by Amelia Rattigan on Thu May 21, 2015 9:19 am

”You, Sir!” Her voice boomed over the chittering crowd, accusatory finger pointed at the brawny fella with the chestnut curly locks. ”A miraculously muscular mighty man such as yourself could use some machismo I think.” A bottle displayed in her dainty hands showcasing it to the amped crowd, fingers grabbing at the air and salivating for the products up for auction that day. The moment Amelia had awoken, lain in such an awkward position this time that she was such some aches would plagued her body later, she had perked right up to start the bidding. Eager shouts filled the tea shop, clawing and pawing patrons voicing their desire to purchase this little bottle was silly but it was helping to get Hatter’s shop back to tip top.

”Twenty! I hear twenty from the gentleman over there. And you! What about thirty? Impress that lucky lady in your life.” Often times, during these auctions,  Melly felt like a ventriloquist’s doll, her gums flapping and sound coming out too fast for the movement that accompanied. The price went up, up, up before finally the bottle tipped toward the victor. ”Sold to Mr. Macho.” There was some unrest amongst the others all desperate to leave the shop with something. Supplies were limited, which was why prices could soar so high. She’d never sampled the products for herself, knowing where they came from. The other world through The Looking Glass was far too fascinating to her to…drink their essence. She wanted the real thing, the genuine article straight from her own system’s cortex and had no problem trying to chase those moments.

Melly raised a finger to her lips wanting the crowd to quiet. ”Now, now there is a menagerie of ‘motions to have.” She liked M words, they hummed against her lips whenever spoken and sparked a tickle inside of her that was too delicious to avoid. There was a good chance that she had been exaggerating on just how many more oyster juices they had in stock that day, but they sold quickly and a new batch made its way to them sooner or later. Her eyes turned involuntarily toward the direction of the casino, a chill crawled along the length of her spine and yet there was curiosity lingering there as well as fear. What it must have been like inside, the thrill of a gamble and all the debauchery she’d read about once upon a time.

The next item up for bid made her grimace internally, especially the pitch that she would have to make in order to gain maximum interest. ”Fear’s next on the table. The heart racing experience sure to raise some hairs, or slip it to your enemy to make them quiver at the mere sight of you, this here has nightmares come true.” It even looked menacing in the bottle, black twisted glass with an ash-white cork stopping it up, mangled and filled with malice. Irrationally, Amelia didn’t even want to touch it but she endured. Hands shot up, voice rose and another item was sold to the highest bidder. She surveyed the crowd, cleaning out the shop’s stock for the day before retiring to the collections, memory serving to exchange coin with ill-gotten goods. It was tough to smile when handing over the fear, but Melly managed, her heart beating faster in her chest and palms sweating as though the liquid had touched her very own lips and was working through her body. What could he have wanted it for? Who was the intended victim? Was it himself? But she wouldn’t ask, she couldn’t- that was bad for business. ”Come back again soon.”

Notes: Wearing this


Last edited by Amelia Rattigan on Fri May 22, 2015 5:58 am; edited 1 time in total
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Re: A handful of dust| Open

Post by Aaron Jones on Thu May 21, 2015 12:39 pm

The crowd was rowdy and noisy as usual. The thought nearly made Aaron roll his eyes. Despite being with the courts, these auctions had never really been much to the killer's tastes. He preferred much more open spaces, where there was room to actually breathe, and, even more to his liking, the fact that he could make his moves freely.

This kind of stuff was much to wild and crazy for his tastes. Although... Reflecting on it, watching the half-crazed crowd that was desperate to get their hands on the latest almost amused the young man. It was such a petty thing to fight over, and believe you him, he'd heard the stories of how crazy these crowds could get in the shortages and when they didn't get what they wanted. All the more reason for him to stray away from ever needing to be here on a regular basis...

But alas, there were times when he himself couldn't deny that the slip of an emotion or two from the casinos to an assigned target made the job easier, and, occasionally, more interesting, depending on the emotion, and, of course, the target.

If the crowd didn't make things interesting, then at least the auctioneer did. She had a mastery with her words that Aaron guessed someone in a position such as herself would require. He never had the need for such fast-paced speech himself, but it certainly had this crowd going.

Even still, Aaron's interest was beginning to wander, his gaze a mask of passive curiosity in what was going on even when, on the inside, his attention was starting to wane. He would welcome the moment he could get out of this crowded place warmly.

But that was when something did catch his attention. Fear. It was a word he quite liked - a word he was overly familiar with if he judged his knowledge of it on the normal spectrum. In his work, though, familiarity with the word was almost a requirement. Now that could make things interesting. And he was paid plenty well enough that he felt comfortable bartering for the bottled bit of darkness. Even the bottle spoke of what darkness lay inside. To the contrary, Aaron couldn't help a small smirk that flickered over his features before he quickly wiped it away. No need for such a display here.

When he stepped forward to accept his ware, he flashed a smile easily to the auctioneer. "Thank you much," he told her, giving her a nod to her words. "Always do when I find the time. I like doing business where I know I'm getting a good deal." Again, he couldn't help the amusement that came to the back of his mind at the reaction which this emotion seemed to evoke in even those that were just around the dark little bottle. Maybe it was just because he'd had it numbed out of him so long ago and so effectively that he'd just ceased to be bothered with the blasted thing for the most part, as weakness was something he was not, and had never been, keen to admit. Or who really knew what else it could be..? All he knew was that it had just become accepted fact to him that was fear was fear. It was like any other emotion. Deal with it, and it'll pass on its merry way with time. Now that he had the malicious thing in a bottle though, he'd have to be wise with how he spent it. Such a thing could be a very helpful tool when the time called for it.
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Re: A handful of dust| Open

Post by Amelia Rattigan on Thu May 21, 2015 1:20 pm

Amelia had always wanted to peer through The Looking Glass herself, to peel back the veil between worlds and experience all that there was in that first-hand marvel. However, in lieu of such honors though she had found a different kind of looking glass to indulge her whims with, the eyes. Melly had read once, somewhere in one of the many books that had filled her childhood that eyes were the windows to the soul and that they could never lie. What a curious thing, this concept of a soul. All the bits and bobbles that made up who a person was from thoughts to morals and opinions to feelings, measuring their muchness.

He had a handsome face and a smile fit for inducing swoons in many. She noticed this, of course, it was too plain not to see, but her eyes searched his. Cool bluish-green like what she’d seen of the Caribbean Sea. They were so calm on the surface but beneath…surely beneath there was a rushing current ready to sweep her away should she swim too far. Melly couldn’t help it though. There she stood, looking at him, looking at her and Amelia treaded the unpredictable waters as best she could simply hoping that she could keep her head above water.

If he were a flower she might have called him a red rose; beautiful, captivating but never to forget the prick of thorns. If she reached out to touch him might one of his rough edges draw blood from her soft, delicate skin, white petals to be pierced? Perhaps her perception was skewed because of his purchase and her eyes deceived her into seeing something sinister where there was no such thing to be had. Perhaps, but not and what a shame indeed. Could she reach across the table that separated them and wrap her arms around the man in a tight embrace, tell him that it would be okay? If Melly thought it would work she might have bared the needle points in her body to hug the pin cushion, or if she was surer than what she was that something was dark about him, she would be a light.
”My pleasure.” That was a nicety at best because there was nothing all that pleasurable about selling an oyster’s emotions to be guzzled down by one who could pay the high price. Amelia wondered briefly, as she always did, what ways this customer’s living was made. ”No better deal in all of Wonderland. My word is my bound and I’ve bond my word to this bound.” Tongue twister as it might have been it rolled off her tongue without a hitch. It was always best to talk up the buyers, give them the customer service they might have desired to come back again and again. She could almost always find the positive and so, picking something to suit was a piece of cake. Her stomach made a low, nearly inaudible grumble reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since…when? These things could be so troubling.

He was the last customer and since there weren’t any other save for the lingers looking for whatever last call sale might arise should a bidder somehow not make it to market, she could give this one extra special attention. ”You seem like a smart man, the best to have won such a prize. I needn’t tell you too much of such things.” Her head quirked to the side slightly smile brighter. ”But you could tell me magnificent tales, couldn’t you?” Would if he could. Her mind wandered to what his life must have been like, fabricating love and loss, epic battles- which side had he fought for? Melly dropped her gaze to the exposed parts of the man’s body looking for any symbol etched into his skin that might tell her to whom he belonged.
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Re: A handful of dust| Open

Post by Aaron Jones on Fri May 22, 2015 10:57 am

He could feel her watching him. It was something he had learned to pick out - something he had been required to know. But he'd also learned to just roll with it - to judge when he could do that or when he would have to act because do the wrong one in the wrong situation, and it could backfire with consequences that wouldn't be good for anyone.

She was a pretty, sweet-seeming little thing, and he judged that she had a curious soul. And good with words, as he'd already noticed. She had a knack for weaving the things in the way she needed and wanted to, and the ability was not lost on the male.

He smiled. "I trust there isn't," he told her, "That's quite the play of words you've got there."

She definitely seemed to be curious to further the conversation, which could be a tricky thing to deal with, he knew. But the interaction couldn't really hurt him. It wasn't often that he got such a proper chance, after all, and, again, he had nowhere specific to be at that exact moment, so why not?

And such encounters often held his interest. He hadn't had the luxury of much close interaction in his life. It was probably the number one reason he had for never being able to seem too overly attached to anything or close to anyone. He had his allies, and he had his enemies. Life really hadn't been any kinder than that to the young man. It'd been almost too easy for him to just take his orders and head out to do them. When the chance was offered, he didn't know what else he'd do with his future, after all. In fact, he still didn't know what he'd be doing if he wasn't making his fortunes and living in the way he was currently making it.

"Ah, well, I try to be modest when I can," he said with a shrug, the smile still toying with his lips. "Any number of people out there would be more than willing to get their hands on this, I'm sure. And I know it, too, by the way they were all going on out there. A little rowdy for my tastes, to be honest, but it's worth it for the deal and service," he added.

And there were definitely plenty that he could tell her. A whole arsenal of tales, but probably few that he could speak of freely. Some he avoided for personal reasons. Others? Because it was his work. And his work was not something that was evening chat to just anyone, even in this crazy world that he called home. "Oh, I'm sure I have one or two up my sleeve," he said, allowing a bit of a smirk to invade his smile. "Although, to be honest, I wouldn't know where to even begin..!"
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Re: A handful of dust| Open

Post by Amelia Rattigan on Fri May 22, 2015 11:40 am

Curiosity was all that Amelia had while growing up. Her fingers coiled desperately around the bindings of books, absorbing as much from their pages as she could, always with more questions with each answer that was given from the words within. Curious, yes, and insatiably so.  Melly might not have been the strongest but she did have her mind and that was full of a plethora of ideas, imagination and innovation. In any battle that she might have ever needed to fight, her mind was her greatest weapon and with that, she felt like there was a deeper hope for a better outcome than one filled with blood, death and sadness.

In all the times that Melly had wished she could have been out in the thick of the war, defending all the was good and just in their world, maybe it was better that she hadn’t. Amelia could still claim to be herself rather than being lost in some rabbit hole like she had seen from a good deal of soldiers that she had helped Hatter heal. Had she been where the fighting was and her hands stained crimson would this stranger have been able to still see her as sweet?

His compliment was well received. Amelia curtsied for him in thanks. ”Much gratitude.” Working words was what made her so good at her job. Perhaps it even made up for the hectic schedule that came with her sleeping affliction hitting suddenly and soundly. If it wasn’t too arrogant to believe that her showmanship played a small role in why the auctions were such a hit rather than being solely contributed to the demand of supply, then Melly would have taken it, head held high and smile firm.

Meeting new people interested her. Everyone was so different, so unique that she couldn’t help finding the experience special each and every time. It was like dropping a stone into a pond, the ripples were never the same twice. Even if this conversation did turn out to be brief, Amelia believed that his ripples would be just as much appreciated as the next. An M word! Her eyes twinkled like star dust, even more pleased to see his smile start to peek out of its hiding place and present itself to her. Melly wanted to coax it out further, if she could. The sight of it crumbled walls that had been up over what he had bought. The man was disarming her with his smile. She was too trusting sometimes.

”It can be a heavy moment of mayhem.” She agreed resisting the urge that sprang up to mention that she didn’t care for the products themselves either. Clearly he did otherwise why buy such things? And Amelia wanted nothing of the sort to be insulting. Sleeves, yes indeed, and what was up them? See couldn’t see. A beautiful stranger with gleams pearls for teeth and she the mermaid who wanted to collect them more. No tattoo to be seen the poor girl had no clue, no suspicion that she would commit to because of how lovely he seemed.

”I often find it best to start at the beginning.” Amelia advised only to have her attention snapped toward the entrance as a scuffle took place. She scurried around the table to try to defuse the situation but Fred and George where there first and the latter gave her a warning look to stay back and out of it, protectively. It only took a moment to split the fighting pair up and send them on their ways. She frowned a beat before looking back at her company. ”You could start with your name.” Oh yes, they had been speaking of happier things. ”Mine is Amelia.”
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