rather die trying Who: Kitty and Tristan Where: Ad Gustum When: who knows... there's no clock
Kitty shivered and pulled her legs up to her chest. She couldn't decide if the room had grown colder or if it was due to the loss of blood, but she couldn't stop shivering. Her hand still clutched at her neck, fearful that if she released the pressure she might bleed out. She'd lost track of time again and had no idea how long she'd been laying there. Did it even matter? Thus far, her only visitor had been the vampire who'd captured her and bitten her. It didn't seem like a good sign and she began to truly wonder if she would die in this hell hole.
Tristan supposed it was time to check on the new arrivals. Well, newish, considering they had been in Ad Gustum's lovely basement for a while now. Really it hadn't been out of incompetence that he hadn't been down there to 'manage' them yet. He just had things to take care of beforehand. Tristan opened the door to one of the rooms to see the biggest head of red hair he'd ever seen. And something was wrong. There was blood, blood that wasn't supposed to be there, and she was far from presentable or healthy. Slaves though they might be, nothing good came out of having them waste away like this. "What the fuck happened to you?" He asked, craning his neck and squinting to look at her better without moving past the threshold. His air of disgust was unmistakable when he finally turned around to lock the door again and stepped in closer to the girl. "What's this? You're bleeding?" Tristan blinked in disbelief. Someone had been playing with the merchandise and boundaries had obviously not been a concern.
As the door opened, Kitty roused to wakefulness, only coming to attention when she realized it wasn't the same vampire who'd attacked her. She wasn't even sure it was a vampire at all, actually, but she wasn't in a good enough place to sing him into doing her will either. "Your fuckin' vampire bit me," she said, her voice laced with rage though softer due to her dwindling energy. "You mean that's not protocol? I'd have never guessed." Maybe he could forgive the sarcasm. She was bleeding, after all.
With a sneer of disdain, Tristan changed his weight from one foot to the other. "My vampire? I claim no ownership over that...Guy." He said, before leaning over her to check the wound, although he made no motion for the girl to stop applying pressure. It was just disgusting. "No it's not fucking protocol, if you were food you'd have been farmed for blood long ago." He said, harshness in his voice against the cute sarcasm. Tristan sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Now I'm going to have to take care of you, aren't I?" He shook his head. "I'll be right back." Tristan unlocked the door and left, locking it after him. He went to procure a first-aid kit and some sort of wet washcloth, although he was certain she would have to shower at some point anyway. Thinking of that, Tristan also brought back with him one of the few non-furry pairs of handcuffs in Ad Gustum, the key safely stored in his pocket. It didn't take him longer than ten minutes to come back down to this girl's 'room'. As he entered he deposited everything next to her and stood there, looking at her a little longer. "What's your name?" He supposed it was a human necessity, to establish some sort of relationship with everyone, and for a slave manager it was necessary to know his slaves to some extent.
Kitty drew back as he leaned in to look at the wound, eying him with apprehension. She couldn't just assume he was going to help her just because he seemed concerned-- he hadn't made any act to free her, so that still made him somewhat of a bad guy. But he did seem displeased, which was more than the vampire had done. "Please do," she said reluctantly. She needed him to take care of her, which sucked ass, but at least he was willing. While he was gone, Kitty pulled herself up into a sitting position, barely able to steady herself. The room was spinning from what she assumed was blood loss-- either that or the room was made to make her sick, like the tea cup ride at Disneyland. Shutting her eyes, she waited, startling back to wakefulness when he spoke again. "Kitty," she said, looking up at him. That seemed like a good sign, even if she wasn't sure why. "What's yours?"
Before answering, Tristan knelt down in front of her, eyes narrowed in clear displeasure. "Tristan. Remove the hand." He ordered, before picking up the washcloth. "Good thing you applied pressure, otherwise I'd be dealing with a dead body right now." And that would be much worse. The idea of finding a dead body plagued Tristan and reminded him of things he wasn't keen on remembering at all. He actually shuddered at the thought before rubbing the washcloth carefully over Kitty's neck, washing the somewhat dry blood away. "Fucker." He muttered, shaking his head yet again. He might have to have a little talk to Lex about proper slave handling later. When he was done, Tristan put the washcloth down and rummage the first-aid kit for some antiseptic cream. "Here, rub this over the wound." He told her, handing her the package. It wasn't like he was going to do it himself, for Christ's sake, the girl could very well have some disease. And even if she didn't, he wasn't going to do it.
"It's hard to apply pressure when you're the one losing blood," Kitty said. As she peeled her hand away, she clenched her teeth against the pain, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. The wound stung like a bitch, but apparently he hadn't ripped open a major vein or it would take more than a first aid kit to patch her up. "Thanks," she said, accepting the cream and spreading a bit on her fingers. This was certainly a surreal experience. "So if I'm not a chew toy, why am I here?" she asked, hissing softly as she rubbed the cream over the wound. Without a little magic, she was sure it was going to scar. Hopefully it would fade in time, seeing as how she might have a lot of it. Life could go on for quite a while, so long as she wasn't permanently locked in a dungeon.
"I wouldn't know." Tristan deadpanned as he watched her apply the cream. In the meantime, he took a large bandage from the kit. She would have to wear it for a little while to prevent infection, which would mean he'd probably have to clean up the wound and reapply fresh bandages on her for a few days. As slave manager that was his job, too. At her question, Tristan snickered, shrugging. "You're still a toy." He said simply, wondering how long it would take her to recover from the blood loss and be ready to 'work'. Once he decided she was done with the cream, Tristan pulled her hand away and applied the bandage over the wounds. "There. All better." For her sake he hoped so, at least.
Kitty's eyes narrowed, but she knew better than to argue with the man that was helping her. Once she was feeling somewhat healed, he'd be the one she could manipulate. Tristan wasn't a vampire, which meant that he was susceptible to her song, and she had the feeling the sort of attack that had merely pissed Lex off might be more effective against a human. "If by better you mean not dying, yes. Better," she said dryly. "Any chance I can get a shower?" she asked. She was feeling absolutely disgusting and would jump on the chance if she could get it. Plus, it might require her to leave the room... enabling her to shift. A girl might not be able to sneak out of the house, but she was willing to bet a crow could.
"You're lucky to be alive, so yes, better." He repeated, narrowing his eyes quite the same way she had. At her question, Tristan stood up and regarded her for a while, smirking. "Well..." He began, picking up the handcuffs he'd brought along. But then, Tristan changed his mind. "Kind of. I'll be right back, don't move." He said, dropping the handcuffs carelessly next to Kitty before making his way out of the room yet again. Now, he was all for her taking a shower, especially because her own stench mixed with the stench of her blood was quite sickening; however, he didn't think Domina or Angeline would take to the idea of having a slave in one of the other girls' bathrooms. No, this would have to be done in another way. So, the slave manager procured a bucket of water and a sponge from one of the bathrooms, along with some shower gel and shampoo. He would also bring her a towel, just because a slave with pneumonia wasn't of use either. Tristan came back to Kitty's holding room a fair twenty minutes later, carrying everything and placing the items at her feet. "Not really a shower, but it could be worse." He said, taking a few steps back towards the door. Tristan regarded Kitty for a while, before opening the door. "Scream when you're done, I guess."
For that moment of consideration Kitty felt a glimmer of hope. Getting out of that room was the key to her freedom and she'd do just about anything to make it happen. Unfortunately, Tristan didn't make it easy for her and decided to leave rather than handcuff her and take her elsewhere. While he was gone, Kitty attempted to pull herself together as best she could. Being regarded as a toy wasn't helping her mental state. Neither was Tristan's return with a bucket in hand. She knew what he was suggesting without any guidance at all and tried not to be put off by the suggestion. If he thought this was going to last, he had another thing coming. "Thanks," she said, sure she seemed sour but too annoyed to care. At least he'd been willing to help. As soon as he was gone, Kitty stripped and began to wash herself off, disgusted with how dirty the water quickly became. This was no way to live. As she bathed she began singing to herself, so that the tune continued on after she finished. While she hated to put her dirty clothes back on, it was either that or stay wrapped in a towel. "Done!" she yelled once dressed, then took up singing again, a haunting little tune that made her feel slightly better.
While Kitty bathed, Tristan stood outside considering what work he still had to do. He needed to know exactly what Domina intended on doing with the slaves Lex had picked up, and he had yet to meet the newest arrival. He supposed they would all need some new clothes soon, but for that a budget was necessary, and that was none of his business. He wasn't going to buy them out of his own money, at least. As soon as she yelled, Tristan went back into the room; when he realized she was singing he gave her a menacing look. "Stop singing." He ordered, and he hoped his voice and expression conveyed just how serious he was being. Despite Tristan's impression that Lex could do little more than grunt sometimes, he had informed them of what type of girls he had picked up. And Tristan knew the redhead to be a siren. Considering there wasn't another redhead, Kitty had to be it. As it was, any and all kind of singing on her part made him feel nervous. "So you've eaten today, correct?" He asked, regaining his business-like demeanor.
Well, damn, he knew what she was. Kitty knew that shouldn't surprise her, but she was hoping against it. It would have made things so much easier. Quieting to a hum, she glared at him, her mind going to what she might make him do if she could sing him into it. She had the feeling that it would be difficult to walk out of there, but it would really be worth trying. "Today, no," Kitty answered. "I was busy bleeding to death." Food hadn't really been on the forefront of her mind. "So this is it? You keep me in a box and bleed me dry?" She wanted to know the plan, if there was one. Even if that was to eventually kill her, at least she could act accordingly.
Her glare didn't faze him so much as it amused him. Tristan found himself smirking back at her. "Well then I don't know what the fuck you're waiting for, but considering we actually provide you with food, I'd take it if I were you." He retorted, speaking calmly. At her question Tristan snickered, rolling his eyes. "Have I not told you before, you're not simply supposed to bleed dry? If that were the case I wouldn't have bothered to come take care of you. People with needles and the likes would have come instead. I'm terribly sorry if you'd rather be of service like that." He said, smiling in a patronizing manner as he leaned against the wall, next to the door. "I suppose situations in which you will be bitten again might occur, but don't worry, no one will let you die. At least until you stop being of use, which I think won't happen for a long time." He reassured her.
"Oh, fabulous!" Kitty said, crossing her arms. "I'm so very lucky to have a captor who's thinking of my comfort and well being! Because being held prisoner isn't all that bad if I get food and sponge baths from time to time." She couldn't help but lay on the sarcasm thick, not really caring if it meant she wasn't fed for the days to come. As far as she was concerned, she wouldn't be staying there long term. Either she'd escape or she'd die trying, and if Tristan didn't know that already then he was in for a treat. Killing him the process was no skin of her back. "Why don't you just stay and talk?" she sang sweetly, turning on her powers of persuasion through song. "Keep me company for a while. Then maybe we'll go for a walk. I promise I can make you smile."
She seemed to be testing him, seeing just how far she could push him until he finally reacted. And to be fair, it wouldn't take long now, considering Tristan had a slave talking to him that way. "Hm. Absolutely no problem, I aim to please." He said, taking the food tray and slamming it across the wall with one swift movement, without taking his eyes off Kitty. The tray landed askew but she could pick it up if she'd like. When she started to sing Tristan was anything but prepared. Or at least, he wasn't expecting it. He started getting confused, at first, his thoughts drowning into something else entirely until his mind was almost not there. And then he found himself almost unwillingly walking in Kitty's direction. But then, as the askew tray finally fell on its back, something snapped, courtesy no doubt of the immense echoed sound the metal tray made. Somewhere in the back of Tristan's mind, his own consciousness screamed for him not to let go like this. Not just like this. And Tristan snapped out of it, with an initial reaction of violence. He slapped Kitty across the face as heavily as his own strength allowed him, and looked at her with a mix of anger and disgust. "You try that on me one more time, I'll make sure you never sing again. And trust me, I have ways to make it so." He whispered.
Kitty was done with being smacked around, her fury rising up as her cheek burned. She wasn't used to being weak in any way and hated how easily she was taken advantage of when half her powers had been cut off. As she fell back from the slap, she curled into a crouch, springing back at Tristan with all the force she could muster. Unfortunately, that wasn't a lot, considering her small frame, but she would have gotten an A for effort. Her hands went for his throat, likely a weak attempt considering her target, but with no weapons in reach she'd go with what came naturally. "You must feel so big and powerful, pushing around a defenseless little girl," she growled. "I will not stop, because I am not yours to command! I never will be!" Even in her last dying breath, she would fight rather than give in to a capture that treated her like a slave. One thing was certain, she did not appreciate being bossed around.
Kitty's attack did come as a surprise to Tristan, but one he recovered quickly from, as soon as he stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance. Wrapping his hands around her wrists, with no care at all whether he broke them in the process or not, Tristan pulled them away from his neck forcefully, as anger distorted his face. "Except you are, aren't you?" He asked, something wicked lacing his voice as he threw Kitty back on the bed and rubbed his neck. "I'm slave manager, you're a slave. You're mine to command all I want, actually." He explained. "And this could either be fairly easy on you, or all your worst nightmares rolled into one. It's really up to you." Tristan smirked slightly then, narrowing his eyes once again.
She was fairly certain she was making it harder on herself, but if that meant it was harder on him, then that's all she cared about. There was always the hope that they'd decide she wasn't worth the trouble and would let her go--- or they could kill her, but she didn't want to think too hard on that one. Worst of all, if they really did keep her locked up, she'd eventually start aging and then go insane. If they thought she was a pain now, she couldn't imagine how bad things would be then. "You can command all you want, but you can't make me follow," she told him, rubbing her wrists from where he'd gripped them. She was going to bruise for sure. Kitty wondered if he knew what he was threatening. If he thought he knew what her nightmares were made of, then he was much more creative than she was giving him credit for.
Tristan was angry, now, and it showed. His nostrils all but flared, his breath was itching and he really, honestly, just wanted to kill this ungrateful little siren now. But he couldn't; that he was working for someone else couldn't be ignored and they were the ones who decided what to do with the slaves, ultimately. Rolling his hands into a fist, Tristan blinked at Kitty before speaking again. "Yes, well, we'll see about that." And he did know a little bit of what he was threatening; he thought it best to have even a basic knowledge of all creatures, races and possibilities out there in the world, sirens were not an exception. Suffice it to say his threats were but empty. The question was if what his short of unlimited imagination would make them work. But he wasn't going to expose his doubts to her. He turned around to leave, but stopped himself and looked back at Kitty once again. "You do realize there are fates worse than death, right?" Tristan smirked. "Keep in mind, you're not getting the easy way out, not as long as it depends on me. And the way things are looking, it always will."
Kitty just stared back at him, unwilling to argue anymore, but just as unlikely to give in. Yes, there were fates worse than death, but if he couldn't kill her, then he'd find resistance every single time the two of them crossed paths. She'd continue to sing, even if it earned backlash, because fighting would always be better than submission, at least in her mind. If he could kill her, then he wouldn't have taken the time to help bandage her wounds. No, Kitty didn't think he had that kind of power, though she didn't know for sure. "Good day, sir," she said, her own way of dismissing him. It might be her prison, but she could still set her own boundaries if she wanted to.
Tristan couldn't say he didn't admire Kitty's 'spunk', if only slightly. She was only making things harder on herself and he very much doubted she posed any real danger to him; but if she was going to need a little extra work to get shaped up into a 'good slave', if ever those existed, then Tristan didn't mind working a little harder. As for whether or not he could kill her, well, accidents happened. He was sure an excuse could be arranged. Her way to wave him off made Tristan chuckle, even if deep down he felt like smacking her once or twice. "That's hilarious." He said, shaking his head. "I would say I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances...But that would be only shy of a lie. Try not to get bitten again, will you? I don't like repeating myself, and that goes for my actions, as well." He said, before waving at her with a completely fake, sort of sweet smile.
"Maybe you should tell the vampire to play nice," Kitty said. Sure, she'd egged Lex on, but that didn't mean he had to be so brutal. Or maybe he did. Kitty didn't know enough vampires to know for sure, so she was willing to guess that not all left their victims to bleed to death, just like not all sirens decided to kill. Looking at it that way, she supposed she understood his behavior, but she didn't have to like it. She thought about making a crack about how he must like his women tied up, and that they had clubs to re-enact those fantasies, but then thought better of it. She'd been smacked around enough for one day and really wanted the opportunity to rest. As he waved to her, she rolled her eyes, breathing a small sigh of relief. Things weren't necessarily getting better, but at least they hadn't gotten any worse. She was alive and no longer bleeding to death, and that was improvement enough for her.
"Yeah, well." Tristan sighed. "Judging by your attitude, while he probably is a waste of space and should not be allowed to exist, well," He smirked. "I'm not entirely sure you didn't have it coming." With this, Tristan opened the door to leave, but before he did, already outside, he peeked into Kitty's holding cell. "I'll see if I can talk to him for you. Wouldn't want you anemic and full of scabs, now would we? Clients don't usually go for that." Smiling, Tristan waved before closing the door and bolting it shut. This one was all at once annoying and infuriating, but there was something about her strength that Tristan liked. Even if her song scared the crap out of him, because he knew what happened next. But other than that Kitty had left Tristan wanting to visit with her again soon. If anything, because he needed some outlet for his mood swings.