[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/gmoqfYX.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Fortune Vereaux was fucked.
Not in a literal sense, albeit hilarious to look at in such a light, but in a more figurative, matter-of-fact way. While it would be safe to assume, above all things, Fortune was taken care of, this wasn't necessarily the case. Actually, Fortune was old news. Discarded, used, torn up, and inevitably, undesired by her clan. All these things tended to add up and leave nothing but a sour taste in the mouths of stock holders everywhere, giving the matriarch little choice but to send the wayward fledgling on her own. A few hundred years and she would be returned to the good graces of her name stead, but that was still two centuries away, at best. Fortune had initially taken the plunge into mortal society without hesitation. There had been women in her life over the years, stringing along in a constant array of colors and shapes, a rainbow of personalities and problems making themselves evident in each misguided attempt at love. The last relationship the Fae had managed to fall in to was with a ebony goddess with pearl colored hair and a look in opalescent hues that spelled trouble.
She took Fortune for all she was worth.
Even after a time of mourning and regret, the stranded red head seemed to have detached herself from social circles she would be expected to frequent. Sobriety had been tossed away in attempts to sink her memories in places an intoxicated individual couldn't reach, and there wasn't a soul to rattle off her woes to. Friends were secondary to the bottle she crawled into, and what few she had made on the lunar colony previously diminished to the barest remnants of acquaintances. Only in passing, only on last name basis. No matter what pair of strappy heels the Fae wore, it was the same downtrodden gait from point A to point B, with her head hung low. It wasn't surprising that no one had any interest in hiring her, and those who gambled a position for the pretty face she wore were sorely misled. Her ethics had long ago dwindled to little more than week one charades, meaning the following time spent under employment was a daily decline that always ended in termination.
Graham & Rakhshine was one of the last stops on her job binge, and if this didn't work, what the fuck did she really have keeping her on Icarus?
Dressed in a more modest ensemble from her half ruined wardrobe, Fortune set off the evening of her interview looking like she fit the job description. Paralegal work came natural to the Fae, as she had been tackling her own clan related doctrines and decrees for countless years, so she saw herself a shoe-in for what the position required. After so many lifetimes of working among mundane kind, she even had the legal certifications expected of her, meaning they would have no reason not to give her a shot. Well, none other than her awful standing among her previous employers. Still, if Fortune was wise with her words and seemingly interested, maybe even dedicated in a naive way, she would find herself hired.
The law firm was a megatall of sorts. All highrise glitz and glam, which the bottle label of neon advertisements seemed to boast. There was a place along the paved streets of the colony that didn't have some sort of billboard blinking, but the sheer amount of illuminated garbage tacked on to the skyscraper was daunting. Fortune almost turned around, almost gave up on the spot to venture off to some shit hole club to drown her sorrows, but instead continued with pep in her barely coherent step. Hangovers weren't new to her routine, but they made for less interesting outings, especially when she was staring into the face of some conglomerate sweat shop of legal lackeys. Barely able to keep her eyes on the monster of obnoxious design, the Fae scooted inside through a set of revolving doors, and found the lobby a breath of fresh air in terms of eyesores.
Their receptionist was a fifth generation K'iirogan and a single mother of four, who told Fortune these things almost immediately after the details of her interview were given. Luckily for Fortune, she had come early enough to listen for ten or so minutes to the alien female complain about the woes of her existence, otherwise the Fae may not have made the elevator in time to ride to the 81st floor. Music hummed softly in the background of the trip, like some jingle to a commercial Fortune had never volunteered to be part of, but it was better than silence. Sobriety and silence always tended to drag out the worst from the woman, even if she was doing everything she could to keep it under lock and key.
When the doors opened and the soft glow of muted halogens met the Fae, there was no doubt this was a company far beyond expectations, with prominence Fortune couldn't appreciate at face value. Having been so detached from the wealth of her clan, the imagery of excess and decadence their office floor was cloaked in made her stomach turn. Nauseated while blinking her heavily hooded orbs, Fortune's trip towards the office door in the distance seemed to span hours. Every step clicked, clopped, knocked and squeaked, causing a wince to catch her off guard and impede the actions. It wasn't until a tanned hand was placed shakily on the door handle that she realized she was actually there, through the fog of hanging glass light fixtures and gilded frames surrounding paintings of notable stockholders.
Fortune took a deep breath, exhaling as the entrance parted to make way for her figure; a voluptuous one hugged by her dress ensemble, with leggings treated as an after thought to accentuate saddle brown flats. Auburn waves cascaded and curled around slender shoulders, drawing attention lower to a sizable bosom and pinched waist, as if beckoning the viewer to remember the pin-up women of yore. Violet eyes bounced from the empty seat near the desk to the desk itself, and then off to the person behind the desk, who dressed far better than she did and seemed unamused by her arrival.
"You're late."
Fortune didn't answer initially, instead clicking along the wooden floor until she was able to sit comfortably across from the hiring manager. "I got caught up speaking with your secretary." Wine tinted lips didn't lie, bringing emphasis to the chatty woman who had ruined the Fae's planned arrival strategy. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"Indeed." A folder was pulled up on the central display in front of the desk, and a series of codes and numbers were added to the script, giving the director access to any available files related to Fortune Vereaux. Much of her known information was there, brutally honest in regards to her previous employment history, though there were also good points to the resume. "So you worked for Ta'alkik Alliance, POFK, Reenthroup, and Mac & O' Malley? What did you learn in your time with your previous employers?"
"They cared more for my personal business than they did my professional conduct. I was dealing with many things in my life, and they chose to focus their attention on those issues, rather than just leave me to do my job. I'm a good, honest worker" She lied, "and there is no reason not to trust me on the grounds of my life outside of my job. I will do what you need me to do. I promise to make this worth your while." It took a moment for Fortune to catch how the latter bit of her speech may have been misconstrued, but she crafted a new lie to accompany the previous one as soon as she did.
"The entire company will see the difference in performance. I'll be here to assist and I'm well versed in legal conduct and practice on Icarus." A smile stole her expression as the femme watched her interviewer continue peering over the notes on the screen. "You can count on me! I would appreciate this-"
The interviewer cleared their throat and straightened themselves in their seat, hand waving absently to move the conversation along. "Ms.Vereaux, let me be frank with you. Everything, and I mean everything in this company, is done by Artificial Intelligence programs. While you look awful on paper, we're not hiring you for your capabilities. You're only being added to the roster because we are required to have a certain number of humanoid employees at any given time, and we're short. Hiring you to sit around and act like you're a helpful cog in the machine is cheaper than paying the fines from the conduct board. Do you understand? You will do minimal filing, minimal 'real work', but you are required to be here. You are the equivalent to a living ornament from the hours of 6pm to the hours of 4am."
"So..." Fortune bit her bottom lip and glanced away, contemplative. "You are hiring me? Just as decoration so you won't be fined...?"
"Precisely."
At least she had gotten the job.
"Alright, I accept those conditions." Reaching out her mocha digits, they were met and briefly shaken by the other individual before she rose to her feet. "When do I start?"
"Tonight if you would like. 88th floor reception desk. It's mostly empty, but there are means to keep yourself entertained, if you are quiet about it."
This whole set up seemed rather lax to the Fae, but she was still feeling the pounding in her head from the previous night's excursion, and didn't entirely mind a job that required next to no effort. Maybe she could just nap ten hours, and return to her binge boozing in the early morning. Nothing of her current lifestyle was encroached on from what Fortune could tell. Not yet anyway. "I don't mind starting now. Would you mind showing me the way?"
"Just follow the arrows, Ms. Vereaux."
Nodding, Fortune did just that, noticing a series of arrows bubbling up across the wood of the floor, and followed their set directions without bothering with a goodbye. If she hadn't been flustered beforehand, this definitely ruffled her feathers. Back out into the hallway and into the elevator, she rode it to the floor she was expected on, and exited to find it was empty. Besides a few potted plants and a wrap-around desk enclosure, there was nothing in the long hall. The end of it fed into a set of double doors with a name in foreign characters scrawled across the front, and she gathered that was her employer, but the femme wasn't able to make out what they said. Too many races and too few lingual lessons; Fortune was admittedly not a linguist. The creature only spoke common galactic tongue as well as she did because there had been two solid centuries of practice with it under her belt, and it was expected one knew the common tongue, no matter what it may have been at any given period of time.
Fortune found herself taking a seat at the desk, where a welcome screen popped up to greet her by name. Half smile crept over her lips and she typed in a password for the system when prompted, then proceeded to check her live feed on Twerper, uninterested in navigating the ins and outs of a system she was expected to use. If they really didn't have work for the Fae to be doing, she would regress back to a state of unattainable eye candy that no one had an opportunity to see. After all, with a floor to herself, she didn't expect very many people to show up regularly - though maybe the occasional passersby could appreciate her living ornament status.
They better appreciate it. If there was no one there to at least notice she was there, how could the company justify keeping Fortune on the payroll?
"Fuck." Lids closing, arms crossing on the desk, Fortune laid her head on her folded limbs and released a long sigh. "How did this happen? Am I drunk?"
Not in a literal sense, albeit hilarious to look at in such a light, but in a more figurative, matter-of-fact way. While it would be safe to assume, above all things, Fortune was taken care of, this wasn't necessarily the case. Actually, Fortune was old news. Discarded, used, torn up, and inevitably, undesired by her clan. All these things tended to add up and leave nothing but a sour taste in the mouths of stock holders everywhere, giving the matriarch little choice but to send the wayward fledgling on her own. A few hundred years and she would be returned to the good graces of her name stead, but that was still two centuries away, at best. Fortune had initially taken the plunge into mortal society without hesitation. There had been women in her life over the years, stringing along in a constant array of colors and shapes, a rainbow of personalities and problems making themselves evident in each misguided attempt at love. The last relationship the Fae had managed to fall in to was with a ebony goddess with pearl colored hair and a look in opalescent hues that spelled trouble.
She took Fortune for all she was worth.
Even after a time of mourning and regret, the stranded red head seemed to have detached herself from social circles she would be expected to frequent. Sobriety had been tossed away in attempts to sink her memories in places an intoxicated individual couldn't reach, and there wasn't a soul to rattle off her woes to. Friends were secondary to the bottle she crawled into, and what few she had made on the lunar colony previously diminished to the barest remnants of acquaintances. Only in passing, only on last name basis. No matter what pair of strappy heels the Fae wore, it was the same downtrodden gait from point A to point B, with her head hung low. It wasn't surprising that no one had any interest in hiring her, and those who gambled a position for the pretty face she wore were sorely misled. Her ethics had long ago dwindled to little more than week one charades, meaning the following time spent under employment was a daily decline that always ended in termination.
Graham & Rakhshine was one of the last stops on her job binge, and if this didn't work, what the fuck did she really have keeping her on Icarus?
Dressed in a more modest ensemble from her half ruined wardrobe, Fortune set off the evening of her interview looking like she fit the job description. Paralegal work came natural to the Fae, as she had been tackling her own clan related doctrines and decrees for countless years, so she saw herself a shoe-in for what the position required. After so many lifetimes of working among mundane kind, she even had the legal certifications expected of her, meaning they would have no reason not to give her a shot. Well, none other than her awful standing among her previous employers. Still, if Fortune was wise with her words and seemingly interested, maybe even dedicated in a naive way, she would find herself hired.
The law firm was a megatall of sorts. All highrise glitz and glam, which the bottle label of neon advertisements seemed to boast. There was a place along the paved streets of the colony that didn't have some sort of billboard blinking, but the sheer amount of illuminated garbage tacked on to the skyscraper was daunting. Fortune almost turned around, almost gave up on the spot to venture off to some shit hole club to drown her sorrows, but instead continued with pep in her barely coherent step. Hangovers weren't new to her routine, but they made for less interesting outings, especially when she was staring into the face of some conglomerate sweat shop of legal lackeys. Barely able to keep her eyes on the monster of obnoxious design, the Fae scooted inside through a set of revolving doors, and found the lobby a breath of fresh air in terms of eyesores.
Their receptionist was a fifth generation K'iirogan and a single mother of four, who told Fortune these things almost immediately after the details of her interview were given. Luckily for Fortune, she had come early enough to listen for ten or so minutes to the alien female complain about the woes of her existence, otherwise the Fae may not have made the elevator in time to ride to the 81st floor. Music hummed softly in the background of the trip, like some jingle to a commercial Fortune had never volunteered to be part of, but it was better than silence. Sobriety and silence always tended to drag out the worst from the woman, even if she was doing everything she could to keep it under lock and key.
When the doors opened and the soft glow of muted halogens met the Fae, there was no doubt this was a company far beyond expectations, with prominence Fortune couldn't appreciate at face value. Having been so detached from the wealth of her clan, the imagery of excess and decadence their office floor was cloaked in made her stomach turn. Nauseated while blinking her heavily hooded orbs, Fortune's trip towards the office door in the distance seemed to span hours. Every step clicked, clopped, knocked and squeaked, causing a wince to catch her off guard and impede the actions. It wasn't until a tanned hand was placed shakily on the door handle that she realized she was actually there, through the fog of hanging glass light fixtures and gilded frames surrounding paintings of notable stockholders.
Fortune took a deep breath, exhaling as the entrance parted to make way for her figure; a voluptuous one hugged by her dress ensemble, with leggings treated as an after thought to accentuate saddle brown flats. Auburn waves cascaded and curled around slender shoulders, drawing attention lower to a sizable bosom and pinched waist, as if beckoning the viewer to remember the pin-up women of yore. Violet eyes bounced from the empty seat near the desk to the desk itself, and then off to the person behind the desk, who dressed far better than she did and seemed unamused by her arrival.
"You're late."
Fortune didn't answer initially, instead clicking along the wooden floor until she was able to sit comfortably across from the hiring manager. "I got caught up speaking with your secretary." Wine tinted lips didn't lie, bringing emphasis to the chatty woman who had ruined the Fae's planned arrival strategy. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"Indeed." A folder was pulled up on the central display in front of the desk, and a series of codes and numbers were added to the script, giving the director access to any available files related to Fortune Vereaux. Much of her known information was there, brutally honest in regards to her previous employment history, though there were also good points to the resume. "So you worked for Ta'alkik Alliance, POFK, Reenthroup, and Mac & O' Malley? What did you learn in your time with your previous employers?"
"They cared more for my personal business than they did my professional conduct. I was dealing with many things in my life, and they chose to focus their attention on those issues, rather than just leave me to do my job. I'm a good, honest worker" She lied, "and there is no reason not to trust me on the grounds of my life outside of my job. I will do what you need me to do. I promise to make this worth your while." It took a moment for Fortune to catch how the latter bit of her speech may have been misconstrued, but she crafted a new lie to accompany the previous one as soon as she did.
"The entire company will see the difference in performance. I'll be here to assist and I'm well versed in legal conduct and practice on Icarus." A smile stole her expression as the femme watched her interviewer continue peering over the notes on the screen. "You can count on me! I would appreciate this-"
The interviewer cleared their throat and straightened themselves in their seat, hand waving absently to move the conversation along. "Ms.Vereaux, let me be frank with you. Everything, and I mean everything in this company, is done by Artificial Intelligence programs. While you look awful on paper, we're not hiring you for your capabilities. You're only being added to the roster because we are required to have a certain number of humanoid employees at any given time, and we're short. Hiring you to sit around and act like you're a helpful cog in the machine is cheaper than paying the fines from the conduct board. Do you understand? You will do minimal filing, minimal 'real work', but you are required to be here. You are the equivalent to a living ornament from the hours of 6pm to the hours of 4am."
"So..." Fortune bit her bottom lip and glanced away, contemplative. "You are hiring me? Just as decoration so you won't be fined...?"
"Precisely."
At least she had gotten the job.
"Alright, I accept those conditions." Reaching out her mocha digits, they were met and briefly shaken by the other individual before she rose to her feet. "When do I start?"
"Tonight if you would like. 88th floor reception desk. It's mostly empty, but there are means to keep yourself entertained, if you are quiet about it."
This whole set up seemed rather lax to the Fae, but she was still feeling the pounding in her head from the previous night's excursion, and didn't entirely mind a job that required next to no effort. Maybe she could just nap ten hours, and return to her binge boozing in the early morning. Nothing of her current lifestyle was encroached on from what Fortune could tell. Not yet anyway. "I don't mind starting now. Would you mind showing me the way?"
"Just follow the arrows, Ms. Vereaux."
Nodding, Fortune did just that, noticing a series of arrows bubbling up across the wood of the floor, and followed their set directions without bothering with a goodbye. If she hadn't been flustered beforehand, this definitely ruffled her feathers. Back out into the hallway and into the elevator, she rode it to the floor she was expected on, and exited to find it was empty. Besides a few potted plants and a wrap-around desk enclosure, there was nothing in the long hall. The end of it fed into a set of double doors with a name in foreign characters scrawled across the front, and she gathered that was her employer, but the femme wasn't able to make out what they said. Too many races and too few lingual lessons; Fortune was admittedly not a linguist. The creature only spoke common galactic tongue as well as she did because there had been two solid centuries of practice with it under her belt, and it was expected one knew the common tongue, no matter what it may have been at any given period of time.
Fortune found herself taking a seat at the desk, where a welcome screen popped up to greet her by name. Half smile crept over her lips and she typed in a password for the system when prompted, then proceeded to check her live feed on Twerper, uninterested in navigating the ins and outs of a system she was expected to use. If they really didn't have work for the Fae to be doing, she would regress back to a state of unattainable eye candy that no one had an opportunity to see. After all, with a floor to herself, she didn't expect very many people to show up regularly - though maybe the occasional passersby could appreciate her living ornament status.
They better appreciate it. If there was no one there to at least notice she was there, how could the company justify keeping Fortune on the payroll?
"Fuck." Lids closing, arms crossing on the desk, Fortune laid her head on her folded limbs and released a long sigh. "How did this happen? Am I drunk?"
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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