![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalThe day of the interview finally arrived, to Ali’s mixed relief and apprehension. The previous days she’d laid low, avoiding the Countess, the very fragile truce arranged by Salli’s father holding for now. The only times she ventured out was to help Salli with her exercise regimen, or do some laps around the edge of the manor’s grounds. The exercise was a balm, it cut the amount of time she had to think, which was never fun. Even during her life onboard the Scarlet Claw she’d gained a reputation for volunteering to help with whatever little task came along. That had made her friends, especially with the sanitation and nutritional techs.
Salli had spoken of her hopes that the interview would bring Ali sympathy, but she couldn’t figure out how that could happen. What she had done couldn’t be undone, and all the nice words in the world wouldn’t change that. Deeds though… Well, that would probably involve some kind of threat to Salli’s safety, and she couldn’t bring herself to wish that.
At a loss on how to prepare, Ali settled for laying out her best day clothes, running them through the room’s sanitizer to be cleaned and pressed. Black leggings and skirt, blue blouse in the House Darktail shade, black button up waistcoat. Her palm stunner and knife sheathes sat on her dresser, waiting for her to slip them on and hide them. Briefly, she thought about adding her fingerless, weighted gloves to her loadout, but decided against it. She’d gotten out of the habit of wearing them in her service to Salli, as she tried to adapt from pirate to noblevixen’s bodyguard.
Looking up to her dresser mirror, she touched her bare throat briefly. And it did look bare, without the triple braided chain with the thumb sized ruby mounted at the center that she’d worn for so long. Salli had made it very clear how much she had hated that chain, the collar showing to the world her ownership by Red Vixen. But Salli had never understood how desperately Ali had needed that sense of belonging the chain had given her. Yes, she’d been owned, been marked a slave, but that had been proof that Lady Melanie, in her persona as the Red Vixen, had valued Ali, had given her a place on her ship, and placed her collar around the confused, sixteen year-old prisoner’s neck to show that ownership and protection for all the rest of the crew to see. Otherwise her reception, as a former member of Bloody Margo’s crew, might have been a lot frostier. But she had earned her place and their respect, and a home.
I want to go home.
But Lady Melanie had retired from piracy and mothballed the Scarlet Claw, Ali’s real family was wary of her, and it looked like Salli couldn’t keep her. So “home” remained a hazy dream at best.
She shook her head at her own meandering and rolled up her sleeves. One last thing to do before the interview. It wouldn’t do to show up with the shakes, especially in front of Salli.
A knock at her door made her pause, and Ali called out, “Yes?”
“It’s Nari, Miss Blacksilor,” came the answer. “I just… just wanted to know if I could clean your room.”
“Not now,” Ali said, irritated at the interruption. “You can come in after I leave.”
“Are you… are you sure?” Nari asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Now go away!” Ali shot back, only barely stopping herself from adding You little twit.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nari replied. Ali heard her shuffle away, and shook her head. She didn’t know what was going on in that serving vixen’s brain, but it didn’t involve much listening.
She headed into the Necessary, unlocking the cabinet over the sink and pulling out her testing meter. A quick prick of her finger, a check on the analyzer, and the numbers came up to tell her that, yes, it was time once again. She pulled a fresh injector from the pack and filled it from the little refrigerated bottle, holding it up to the mirror. The silver needle gleamed brightly in the light of the little room.
“I hate you,” Ali softly told it. Then she pushed back the fur from her wrist, and shoved the needle into her vein.
Salli had spoken of her hopes that the interview would bring Ali sympathy, but she couldn’t figure out how that could happen. What she had done couldn’t be undone, and all the nice words in the world wouldn’t change that. Deeds though… Well, that would probably involve some kind of threat to Salli’s safety, and she couldn’t bring herself to wish that.
At a loss on how to prepare, Ali settled for laying out her best day clothes, running them through the room’s sanitizer to be cleaned and pressed. Black leggings and skirt, blue blouse in the House Darktail shade, black button up waistcoat. Her palm stunner and knife sheathes sat on her dresser, waiting for her to slip them on and hide them. Briefly, she thought about adding her fingerless, weighted gloves to her loadout, but decided against it. She’d gotten out of the habit of wearing them in her service to Salli, as she tried to adapt from pirate to noblevixen’s bodyguard.
Looking up to her dresser mirror, she touched her bare throat briefly. And it did look bare, without the triple braided chain with the thumb sized ruby mounted at the center that she’d worn for so long. Salli had made it very clear how much she had hated that chain, the collar showing to the world her ownership by Red Vixen. But Salli had never understood how desperately Ali had needed that sense of belonging the chain had given her. Yes, she’d been owned, been marked a slave, but that had been proof that Lady Melanie, in her persona as the Red Vixen, had valued Ali, had given her a place on her ship, and placed her collar around the confused, sixteen year-old prisoner’s neck to show that ownership and protection for all the rest of the crew to see. Otherwise her reception, as a former member of Bloody Margo’s crew, might have been a lot frostier. But she had earned her place and their respect, and a home.
I want to go home.
But Lady Melanie had retired from piracy and mothballed the Scarlet Claw, Ali’s real family was wary of her, and it looked like Salli couldn’t keep her. So “home” remained a hazy dream at best.
She shook her head at her own meandering and rolled up her sleeves. One last thing to do before the interview. It wouldn’t do to show up with the shakes, especially in front of Salli.
A knock at her door made her pause, and Ali called out, “Yes?”
“It’s Nari, Miss Blacksilor,” came the answer. “I just… just wanted to know if I could clean your room.”
“Not now,” Ali said, irritated at the interruption. “You can come in after I leave.”
“Are you… are you sure?” Nari asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Now go away!” Ali shot back, only barely stopping herself from adding You little twit.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nari replied. Ali heard her shuffle away, and shook her head. She didn’t know what was going on in that serving vixen’s brain, but it didn’t involve much listening.
She headed into the Necessary, unlocking the cabinet over the sink and pulling out her testing meter. A quick prick of her finger, a check on the analyzer, and the numbers came up to tell her that, yes, it was time once again. She pulled a fresh injector from the pack and filled it from the little refrigerated bottle, holding it up to the mirror. The silver needle gleamed brightly in the light of the little room.
“I hate you,” Ali softly told it. Then she pushed back the fur from her wrist, and shoved the needle into her vein.
