All That Glitters [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
Damien was horribly amused when she tripped, even if it meant he had to plant his cane hard on the floor to compensate for the spasm of pain it gave him. He rubbed the heel of his hand against the middle of his thigh, still holding his cane.
A mere thousand, and she was tripped up already! She'd break so quickly, at this rate.
"As I have said, dear girl," he said, slow as if he was trying to be patient with her. "This is the one that I want. I will accept no other. You may sell your other books elsewhere, if you wish, but I will take this one. Is two thousand more agreeable to you?"
So scared and confused and full of longing. She wanted things, oh yes. She had plans for this money she was looking for. In a way, he was doing her a favor. Dreams always had a price, many far worse than the sentimentality of a book. This was a learning experience, practice for a future that would not be kind to a girl like her.
"What might you spend two thousand on, I wonder? Surely a little girl has no need of so much money. Maybe you will buy a pretty dress? You could use one. Such a book as this cannot possibly mean more to you than that. I will take very good care of it."
The books that filled the front parlor did not inspire confidence in this assertion, books far more valuable than any she owned stacked crooked on their covers and left hanging half-open on the floor. Not that every book was valuable. Stacks of brightly colored battered paperbacks, thin things for children piled high, floral covers with script fonts assembled together like bricks. Rare books, old books, valuable books, but also any book that anyone might have cried over. A few textbooks for advanced mathematics leaned against other books here and there.
A mere thousand, and she was tripped up already! She'd break so quickly, at this rate.
"As I have said, dear girl," he said, slow as if he was trying to be patient with her. "This is the one that I want. I will accept no other. You may sell your other books elsewhere, if you wish, but I will take this one. Is two thousand more agreeable to you?"
So scared and confused and full of longing. She wanted things, oh yes. She had plans for this money she was looking for. In a way, he was doing her a favor. Dreams always had a price, many far worse than the sentimentality of a book. This was a learning experience, practice for a future that would not be kind to a girl like her.
"What might you spend two thousand on, I wonder? Surely a little girl has no need of so much money. Maybe you will buy a pretty dress? You could use one. Such a book as this cannot possibly mean more to you than that. I will take very good care of it."
The books that filled the front parlor did not inspire confidence in this assertion, books far more valuable than any she owned stacked crooked on their covers and left hanging half-open on the floor. Not that every book was valuable. Stacks of brightly colored battered paperbacks, thin things for children piled high, floral covers with script fonts assembled together like bricks. Rare books, old books, valuable books, but also any book that anyone might have cried over. A few textbooks for advanced mathematics leaned against other books here and there.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
Two thousand! Why the hell did he want this book so much? Or maybe he just wanted to watch her squirm? He might not even have that much. Who had two thousand, just lying around? Inhuman monsters who wanted to torment a teenage girl who'd knocked on their door at ten AM and then called them stinky, possibly.
"Who needs a stupid dress?" she snapped, furious as if it was an accusation. "I have real shit to take care of!" This asshole had no idea what she needed money for. Food and rent and bills. Things an eighteen year old shouldn't be worrying so much about, but things she'd been worrying about for two years now. Her mother had probably never been responsible, given as how she'd gotten knocked up by "one of five possible guys" when she was fifteen, then proceeded to piss off a witch and give birth to a dog. Now she was eighteen years older and should have been eighteen years wiser, but instead...
Well, Bree's money never went directly to her smoking habit. It just went to rent when her money went to drugs instead.
"I wouldn't even sell it to you for ten thousand!" she practically snarled, all but leaping for it. "Just give it back!" The thought of it sitting here, unloved and falling apart, was not as distressful as simply the thought of not having it anymore, of it being anywhere but in her possession, a child's only memory of what should have been a mother's love. A little slice of her passion in a box, summer days spent up a tree and in another world, flipping through pages and knowing that somewhere, somewhere, there was more out there than locked fences and locked doors.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
"Language," he chided, as if he was in any position to be washing anyone's mouth out with soap. "I do not think that a girl dressed such as yourself should speak so ill of something you so clearly need."
Not that he was dressed so well himself, lately. His suits and his top hats all neglected, in various states of disrepair. But even rumpled as he was, his trousers were tailor-made to fit him perfectly, his shirt hand-stitched with ebony buttons and embroidered in white thread around the hems. He held the book aloft again, leapt backward with the grace and strength that sky blue eyes signified.
The landing was less graceful then he would have liked, since his bad leg nearly gave out underneath him, only barely saved by his cane from an embarrassing collapse. His lip curled in a brief snarl before he recovered himself, standing straight again, face placid except for furious irritation in his eyes. Her book was still unharmed, though he considered letting it suffer for her indiscretion.
"Fifty thousand," he said. "If you can convince me that you will not simply spend it all on pig's ears and ham bones, then I will give you fifty thousand for it. I will not offer twice."
Not that he was dressed so well himself, lately. His suits and his top hats all neglected, in various states of disrepair. But even rumpled as he was, his trousers were tailor-made to fit him perfectly, his shirt hand-stitched with ebony buttons and embroidered in white thread around the hems. He held the book aloft again, leapt backward with the grace and strength that sky blue eyes signified.
The landing was less graceful then he would have liked, since his bad leg nearly gave out underneath him, only barely saved by his cane from an embarrassing collapse. His lip curled in a brief snarl before he recovered himself, standing straight again, face placid except for furious irritation in his eyes. Her book was still unharmed, though he considered letting it suffer for her indiscretion.
"Fifty thousand," he said. "If you can convince me that you will not simply spend it all on pig's ears and ham bones, then I will give you fifty thousand for it. I will not offer twice."
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
He was fast! Why was she surprised? Like, seriously, it was so obvious he wasn't human, so why would she be surprised that he was fast, ugh. But when he landed, she could see pain and anger in his eyes. Her eyes trailed down to the leg he seemed to be favoring. Was he injured? That must be humiliating, for something like him.
She probably could have done something with that, if she'd had proper time to consider it, to craft a decent insult or jab, but he knocked the wind clean out of her sails.
Fif... fifty thousand.
She stared with wide eyes. "Y... you're lying," she said, not sounding certain at all. "Why would you pay fifty thousand dollars for an old book?" It wasn't worth that. In the condition it was in, it was probably worth five bucks, collector's value or no.
Fifty thousand dollars... That could put her the whole way through school at the local college... the tuition, at least, some for books. If she worked at the same time, to pay for food and rent and stuff...
She had stopped grabbing for the book. There was no way he actually had that kind of money. Even if he was a... weird... not-human... thing. In very fancy clothing. With a house full of valuable books he clearly wasn't taking very good care of.
She swallowed, not quite to the point of letting herself consider it. He had to be lying, because the alternative was almost too much to consider.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
Oh yes. It was too much, really, even he knew that. He could have had her for less. But he was losing his patience to toy with her, and for this price, her only hesitance was disbelief. Desire and hope all overwhelming her affection, no more of the pain of nostalgia and having a precious thing taken from her.
"I told you," he said. "I want it. Does it matter why?" He held the book lower, drummed his fingers on the cover just gently enough that it wouldn't fall to pieces in his hand.
"What a strange thing that would be to lie about," he said. "Do you know, I have owned bottles of wine worth more than that? I assume that I drank them. I do not recall, as I did not think it important at the time. This house is older than this city, did you know that? All these houses around us are but pale imitations of this one, and think how much they are worth."
"I have the money. You know that I do. So let us be honest with one another, yes? Take your hat in your hands, little girl, and convince me that you deserve it."
"I told you," he said. "I want it. Does it matter why?" He held the book lower, drummed his fingers on the cover just gently enough that it wouldn't fall to pieces in his hand.
"What a strange thing that would be to lie about," he said. "Do you know, I have owned bottles of wine worth more than that? I assume that I drank them. I do not recall, as I did not think it important at the time. This house is older than this city, did you know that? All these houses around us are but pale imitations of this one, and think how much they are worth."
"I have the money. You know that I do. So let us be honest with one another, yes? Take your hat in your hands, little girl, and convince me that you deserve it."
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
She stared at him in a sort of hopeless disbelief. There was no way... College. All the money for college, right there, one book away. She eyed it in his hands, distraught both at the thought of losing it and the too-rough way he was handling it. Not rough enough that it would collapse, but far rougher than it deserved. But for college...
Did she believe him? He wasn't human. He could be some kind of immortal; she sort of assumed those existed in forms other than vampirism. She kind of just assumed everything from any fantasy book she read existed somewhere, because she was one of the most implausible possibilities, and she existed. A long life meant a lot of money.
But why would he want to spend it on a book? He clearly had a fondness for them, of a sort. There were hundreds, scattered on every surface. But why that book? What value did it have?
Was he right? Did it even matter, if he was for real?
"I... I..." She shifted from foot to foot, nervous anxiety and an undercurrent of humiliation. She wanted to just grab it and flee from the whole situation, but she couldn't risk it. If there was even a chance...
But he wanted her to take her hat off? Surely she was misunderstanding. She wasn't even sure she was physically capable of it. She'd never had a bare head around any other living person, not in this form anyway. Her great-grandparents and mother had probably seen her ears a few times, when she was younger, but she kept them covered almost religiously now. Her great-grandparents had insisted; it had become habit... and now, her mother... Well. Her mother could barely even look at her when she was a human, and couldn't at all when she was a dog. If she hid the signs of her evenings as a furball, she could often pretend her mother found her slightly less offensive.
She got her hand about halfway up towards the hat before she dropped it again, wrapping both arms around themselves. Not arms crossed, more just gripping herself for support.
"I'm selling the books to pay for college," she muttered, looking down and to the left.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
His grin was a wide upward curl splitting his face open. She was trying so hard not to let it show, all that fragile hope. All he had to do was change his mind and it would crush her, utterly, into a creature of impossible fury. But hope made her a helpless little thing, a crack in her armor where her secret heart shone through.
Sea salt caramel and the fluffiest dark chocolate truffles.
Still, for all that, she couldn't bear to take her hat off.
"Such a noble goal," he said. "Yet you do not sound proud of yourself." As if he did not know exactly why she hesitated. "I had thought perhaps that you were rude, keeping your hat on indoors, but do not tell me you are ashamed? Have you not been spoiled, and told always what a joy you are to behold?"
As if she should have been, as if he'd assumed it her birthright, the natural order of things. As if he could not tell an open wound from a lack of callouses.
Sea salt caramel and the fluffiest dark chocolate truffles.
Still, for all that, she couldn't bear to take her hat off.
"Such a noble goal," he said. "Yet you do not sound proud of yourself." As if he did not know exactly why she hesitated. "I had thought perhaps that you were rude, keeping your hat on indoors, but do not tell me you are ashamed? Have you not been spoiled, and told always what a joy you are to behold?"
As if she should have been, as if he'd assumed it her birthright, the natural order of things. As if he could not tell an open wound from a lack of callouses.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
She hadn't not been red in the face since he first opened his mouth, but she began darkening back towards crimson at this. Not fury, not quite, but she tried to make it anger because she didn't want to have to feel anything else. She could latch on to anger. Anger was something she knew how to feel, something that was respected because if nothing else, people knew anger lead to violence. And she had made sure she was strong enough for violence from her to be respected.
Not that it would be from this asshole. But the instinct was there. Shaking with something that she told herself was fury, she snatched her hat off and threw it right at his face. "There! Happy?!" she snarled. "It's off!"
Her ears were small and a few shades lighter blonde than the rest of her hair, tucked flat against her head, almost lost in the sheer floof. She immediately felt wrong without her hat, as if she'd just stripped nude. She flushed darker still, refusing to let herself admit to feeling anything other than rage despite the waves of humiliation and hurt.
As if anything that looked like her would be a joy to behold. He'd just said it to goad her into taking her hat off, and it had worked. But at least she'd gotten to throw something at him. She always felt a little bit better when she got to throw things at people.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
He tilted sideways just enough that her hat would miss him when she threw it, careful conservation of movement. He brightened, visibly delighted once he could see her ears.
"Adorable," he said without missing a beat. She was so overwhelmed with shame she may as well have stripped right in front of him. "Mais, I hope you do not think I was trying to pressure you. I was only curious. If you are more comfortable hiding, then by all means, hide." His grin had faded to a smile, patronizing and full of pity. "It takes great courage to feel free to be entirely yourself, and I would never be so cruel as to demand such a thing from a child." He cocked his head to the side. "Have you ever worn cute little bows in them?" he wondered.
Bows and ribbons and pretty little doll dresses, but she wasn't the right size or species for that, and he was hyper-aware of the sharp shards of bone tearing always and ever into his muscles, healing and tearing and healing again.
"Of course you do not," he said before she could answer, "just look at you." He waved her book at her outfit, insofar as it could even be called such.
"I will buy this book from you," he said, "but I do not want you, ah. Wandering freely about my home. Yes? A little ragamuffin, and all these fine things. I do not wish to be cruel, again, but I have said before that mine is not a home for children. While I retrieve your school money, you must be a good girl and sit."
There was no furniture not covered in books. He was pointing to the floor. His tone had clearly been that of an order.
There was no possible way to mistake his intent.
"Adorable," he said without missing a beat. She was so overwhelmed with shame she may as well have stripped right in front of him. "Mais, I hope you do not think I was trying to pressure you. I was only curious. If you are more comfortable hiding, then by all means, hide." His grin had faded to a smile, patronizing and full of pity. "It takes great courage to feel free to be entirely yourself, and I would never be so cruel as to demand such a thing from a child." He cocked his head to the side. "Have you ever worn cute little bows in them?" he wondered.
Bows and ribbons and pretty little doll dresses, but she wasn't the right size or species for that, and he was hyper-aware of the sharp shards of bone tearing always and ever into his muscles, healing and tearing and healing again.
"Of course you do not," he said before she could answer, "just look at you." He waved her book at her outfit, insofar as it could even be called such.
"I will buy this book from you," he said, "but I do not want you, ah. Wandering freely about my home. Yes? A little ragamuffin, and all these fine things. I do not wish to be cruel, again, but I have said before that mine is not a home for children. While I retrieve your school money, you must be a good girl and sit."
There was no furniture not covered in books. He was pointing to the floor. His tone had clearly been that of an order.
There was no possible way to mistake his intent.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
Her face flamed furious red. Adorable? The hell she was! She'd show him how adorable she was when she-- When she what?
He was stronger and faster than her, very rich and probably very old and also not at all human. She could do precisely nothing. That knowledge burned at her core as she bit down on the inside of her lip, just for somewhere to direct the pain and humiliation and anger. And to keep herself from saying anything, because anything she could say would just make the situation worse. Because he was enjoying this, a lot, and she couldn't think of anything that would make him not enjoy it anymore.
Fifty thousand dollars. College. A chance. Dangling on a hook in front of her. She hadn't been good enough to make her own chance; too poor and too rough around the edges and too ambiguously brown. No amount of book smarts could off-set a degree from an average public school, perfect grades on every test dragged down by poor attendance. She would wind up just like her mother, barely graduate high school, and then do nothing with her life but serve other people for less than minimum wage and whatever tips she could scrounge for by being nice.
She was terrible at being nice.
Compared to that, a bit of humiliation...
Okay, a lot of humiliation...
And parting with her dearest book...
At least she could say she'd suffered for it. She'd worked for it. This sure as fuck wasn't being handed anything.
She grit her teeth, heart pounding in her chest, nails digging crescents into her palms. Then she lowered herself, squatting down and then kneeling on the floor, legs folded flat beneath her. She kept her eyes on the ground, because she absolutely did not want to see what kind of smug, delighted expression "Mr. Lestrange" was wearing.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
"Ah! Wonderful. I am so grateful for your understanding, little girl. Only let me…"
He stepped closer, until he could bend down over her head. Even if he hadn't been able to taste the depth of her agony, it would have been obvious to see the way her ears were pinned against her skull. Careful not to touch her – because he was so very good at not touching anyone that had not asked first – he balanced her book on top of her head.
"There," he said cheerfully. "Now just wait here, if you please."
With that, he disappeared into the back hall to head upstairs to his office.
His safe was built into the wall, and he hadn't needed to get into it in quite some time. He hummed as he looked over wrapped stacks of bills, one of nearly a hundred such stacks that had been sitting in his safe since the last time he needed to turn gold into cash.
Five, then?
His gaze drifted down to lower in the safe, stacks of gold, enough bricks to build a decent little wall if the mood struck him. Baskets and baskets of little trinkets he'd acquired, some of them only valuable in the way this girl's book was valuable. Teddy bears, lockets. Strings of pearls and ruby rings and coins from when coins had been minted in precious metals.
It would be cheating not to give her any cash. And then she might think he didn't have any.
Three stacks. Thirty thousand in cash, available to spend immediately. And one leather purse, of the kind that used to be so common, with just enough gold coins and jewelry to hint at untold treasures she could never dream of having.
When he came back downstairs, he was tutting his tongue, riffling through thirty thousand dollars like the pages of a cheap book. "I fear there is only thirty for you–" Not lying, not a lie, there was more than thirty but it wasn't for her. "–and so I must beg your forgiveness, and ask if you are willing to accept these for the difference."
He dropped the little purse on the floor in front of her, with a satisfying clatter of gold against gold.
He stepped closer, until he could bend down over her head. Even if he hadn't been able to taste the depth of her agony, it would have been obvious to see the way her ears were pinned against her skull. Careful not to touch her – because he was so very good at not touching anyone that had not asked first – he balanced her book on top of her head.
"There," he said cheerfully. "Now just wait here, if you please."
With that, he disappeared into the back hall to head upstairs to his office.
His safe was built into the wall, and he hadn't needed to get into it in quite some time. He hummed as he looked over wrapped stacks of bills, one of nearly a hundred such stacks that had been sitting in his safe since the last time he needed to turn gold into cash.
Five, then?
His gaze drifted down to lower in the safe, stacks of gold, enough bricks to build a decent little wall if the mood struck him. Baskets and baskets of little trinkets he'd acquired, some of them only valuable in the way this girl's book was valuable. Teddy bears, lockets. Strings of pearls and ruby rings and coins from when coins had been minted in precious metals.
It would be cheating not to give her any cash. And then she might think he didn't have any.
Three stacks. Thirty thousand in cash, available to spend immediately. And one leather purse, of the kind that used to be so common, with just enough gold coins and jewelry to hint at untold treasures she could never dream of having.
When he came back downstairs, he was tutting his tongue, riffling through thirty thousand dollars like the pages of a cheap book. "I fear there is only thirty for you–" Not lying, not a lie, there was more than thirty but it wasn't for her. "–and so I must beg your forgiveness, and ask if you are willing to accept these for the difference."
He dropped the little purse on the floor in front of her, with a satisfying clatter of gold against gold.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
It was a testament to the depth of her self-control--which she had not thought was very strong but was showing itself to be considerable in the face of $50,000--that she waited until he was out of sight to tear the book off her head. It wasn't even really that she thought she might rather die than sit there balancing it on her head like--well, like a well-trained dog. She wanted to get a last look at it.
She ran a thumb over the cover, worn but never dusty. She doubted she'd let it get dusty once in thirteen years. The colors had seemed to bright when she first got it, although in truth it had been old even then. Old enough for her to taste the history in the pages. A book that felt like it had to hold magic, more than enough to give a little girl reason to live.
She could feel her eyes growing a bit wet, and blinked rapidly. She would not cry. She refused to. She wouldn't give this asshole the satisfaction.
If she absolutely had to, she could wait until she was back home, replaying the pain in high definition. And comforting herself with money. At least she knew now that money could, in fact, buy happiness, because she was selling hers pretty readily. Temporarily, though, she told herself. Grit your teeth and bear it and it'll all be over. And maybe he won't be even a little poorer in the grand scheme of things, but she'd be a lot richer, and that was what counted.
She didn't hear him coming back, but she probably wouldn't have put the book back on her head even if she had.
He had cash in his hand, three bundles of what were probably one hundred dollar bills. Her throat felt dry. She was still at the age where money was something that existed primarily in amounts of one and five. Not least of all because her mother was a waitress, and no one tipped waitresses with $100s.
He said there was only $30,000, and to her infinite chagrin, her first reaction was to think that $30,000 would be good enough, because she hadn't sat on the floor and let him set a book on her and tell her to stay like he was balancing a treat on her nose, just to tell him to shove $30,000 up his ass.
That wasn't necessary, however, because he had a counter-offer to the last $20,000. A coin purse. A coin purse that clinked when it hit the ground. She didn't snatch it up; actually, she reached for it sort of slowly, as if she expected it to bite, or be a prank. She opened it similarly slowly.
That was, uh.
That was gold.
And um. Gems? Gemstones. Rings.
She was no appraiser. She had no idea if this stuff was real. She pulled out one gold coin and stared at it, turning it in the dim light.
Somehow, she was pretty sure these would turn out to be real gold. He'd probably just had a bag like this... around. Thrown some shit in it that he estimated to be worth roughly $20,000, because he hadn't had $50,000 in cash.
She decided she'd trust his monetary judgement. Because she had no idea what any of it was worth, or if it could even be sold. And because she wanted to leave before he started to think of other things he could afford to buy.
"I guess," her voice sounded hoarse, the tears she hadn't quite shed making her voice crack. She cleared her throat. "I guess this'll work, yeah. If I can sell any of it without people calling the cops..."
She was still on the floor, because it hadn't quite occurred to her to stand up.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
"Parfait," he practically purred. "What a charming girl you are." His eyes were a pale pastel, and he could have picked her up off the ground one-handed if he'd wanted. Beautiful, wonderful agony, her heart almost breaking.
Almost, almost.
"I will take my book now, s'il vous plaît, Miss – ah, but I have not asked your name, have I? May I have it? I assume you are a clever girl, who would not give up such a precious thing as this book on a whim. You will do marvelously, to be sure it is not wasted, yes? Then I will see your name in papers, as they do for all the best students. I will know your name when you write me a letter to let me know you have graduated, with all of the honors you must earn." He sighed. "What a lovely thought, that when you start to tire of your studies, you can recall what I have done for you here to strengthen your resolve. I do so adore to be helpful."
"It has a lovely symmetry, non? For here is the sort of book that teaches a girl to dream – it did, did it not? I have not misjudged this lovely treasure? Mais, now you give it up to see if you are capable of making those dreams come true. I like when stories wrap themselves up so neatly."
He offered her the cash, watching and waiting, patient.
Almost, almost.
"I will take my book now, s'il vous plaît, Miss – ah, but I have not asked your name, have I? May I have it? I assume you are a clever girl, who would not give up such a precious thing as this book on a whim. You will do marvelously, to be sure it is not wasted, yes? Then I will see your name in papers, as they do for all the best students. I will know your name when you write me a letter to let me know you have graduated, with all of the honors you must earn." He sighed. "What a lovely thought, that when you start to tire of your studies, you can recall what I have done for you here to strengthen your resolve. I do so adore to be helpful."
"It has a lovely symmetry, non? For here is the sort of book that teaches a girl to dream – it did, did it not? I have not misjudged this lovely treasure? Mais, now you give it up to see if you are capable of making those dreams come true. I like when stories wrap themselves up so neatly."
He offered her the cash, watching and waiting, patient.
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
Bree stayed on the ground for longer than was strictly necessary, one hand clenching around her book and one on the little bag of gems. It was all very poetic, she was sure. She felt the ache of the situation in her soul, because these were the sort of dramatic choices she read about with frequency. Between love and riches or family and fate or something similar. Childhood dreams and practicality. Or pride and success, maybe. Fantasy or cold, hard cash.
And he was rubbing it in, too, just jabbing those knives in. She wanted to seriously regret coming here in the first place, but she couldn't even do that, because she was holding a bag of literal gold.
She couldn't run with the gold and the book, though she wanted to. Because she couldn't possibly get out the door fast enough, and he had those teeth.
If she did this, she'd be thinking about it every single day she was in school. Every time she looked at her degree on the wall, she'd be remembering submitting to this humiliation, kneeling on the ground with a book on her head and her mouth shut.
If she didn't do this, she'd be thinking about it every single day she was at work. Every time she forced a smile for a tip, dealt with a pinched ass. Stared out at a night sky she could never really see properly from her tiny house she couldn't leave. She'd be thinking of how dreams turned to dust on their own even if you didn't sell them.
She wasn't going to fucking cry.
Both items still clenched in her hands, she stood up, straightening with some difficulty. She felt stiff, a bit heavy. She took a deep breath, then held out the book towards him. She met his eyes, determined. Had they been that color when she'd arrived? Surely she would have noticed--they were so pale as to make her think of the milky eyes of the blind. And had he been standing that straight? He seemed a bit taller. And he'd already seemed tall.
She maintained eye contact, unwavering despite her nerves.
"My name is Bree," she said firmly. "But when you see it in the paper, it'll be Bridget Corey."
RE: All That Glitters [Closed] - Tindome - 03-24-2017
"Miss Corey," he said, smiling. "Bree. What a delicious name." He tucked his cane under his arm so that he could accept the book, setting the money into her hand to replace it.
"I hope that you know how special you are," he said, running his fingers over the cover. He had to choose his words carefully now if they were going to strike true. He was only an empath, not a psychic in the purest sense, only his own experience to tell him how to recognize the hurts in this girl and how to tear them all wide open.
Her mother the whore, and her terrible French, and her treasured little book. Her shame at so simple a thing as revealing the ears on her head, the depth of her humiliation, the clumsy way she knelt on the floor. Her determination to get an education, that most recent peculiar facet of the American dream, a way for the ragged to claw their way out of the mud with dignity.
"It is so easy to find a girl," he said, "who – what is it they like to say? 'You may buy my body, but never my heart'? Whores aplenty, but all of them so insistent on that point. Yet here you are, you precious thing, and look how little you have cost me."
"I hope that you know how special you are," he said, running his fingers over the cover. He had to choose his words carefully now if they were going to strike true. He was only an empath, not a psychic in the purest sense, only his own experience to tell him how to recognize the hurts in this girl and how to tear them all wide open.
Her mother the whore, and her terrible French, and her treasured little book. Her shame at so simple a thing as revealing the ears on her head, the depth of her humiliation, the clumsy way she knelt on the floor. Her determination to get an education, that most recent peculiar facet of the American dream, a way for the ragged to claw their way out of the mud with dignity.
"It is so easy to find a girl," he said, "who – what is it they like to say? 'You may buy my body, but never my heart'? Whores aplenty, but all of them so insistent on that point. Yet here you are, you precious thing, and look how little you have cost me."