Are You Poor or Rich? (always opened)

First topic message reminder :

In this future Earth, there are new ways. The question is, where do you stand? It has been decreed by the ruler of this land that all those have no money will be sold as property. You can run, you can hide, but the security of the land will find you. Who do you belong to? Those who can afford to buy you. The prices are extremely high, only the rich have, as they are called, poor-lives, or poor-workers.
Those who have money are REALLY rich! They can afford any price.
Unless already bought the first scene in this ropleplay will be an auction for the poor-workers.
You can only be a poor-worker or an owner. I have witnessed threads get over run with one type of character so I will, for now, accept four of each kind. After that then it must be even unless give you permission.

Rules
°rules of the site
°have fun!

forums
owners

name:
age:
gender:
appearance: (detailed description or URL)
poor-workers owned: ( if you own any)
poor-workers your interested in-(these are those you might buy)
other:

poor-workers

name:
age:
gender:
appearance: (detailed description or url)

Owners and their Poor-workers (will be updated all the time)

Un-owned Poor-workers
Cassandra (me)


My forum.
Name: Cassandra
age: 18
gender:female
appearance: http://image.blingee.com/images17/content/output/000/000/000/5f0/520404542_1964081.gif

Rylen coughed. Was this man mad?  To pay that kind of money at an auction for...for...livestock! And to throw her own look back at her like that! She decided right then that this man, whoever he was, was up to no good. Probably an equal rights sympathizer. Why else would someone volunteer to pay that amount on something so fundamentally worthless? Wasn't that why they were being sold, because they had no value?

She would speak to the town council. Most definitely.

But at least it got Jack what he wanted. Rylen couldn't top it, and she was certain no one else could. She looked around as the crowd began to talk among themselves again, expecting, too, for the excitement to have passed.

Glen sung a quiet song to himself. It was comforting, but couldn't postpone the inevitable.

Dahlia set her jaw. "That man is up to no good, period." She shook her head sadly. "Oh well, let's go home then, Lea." Lea nodded, and Dahlia took her hand. They walked away from the crowd, and got into a deep green-blue Volvo 850 GLT. Dahlia turned on the engine despondently. "I hate that kid," she told no one in particular, but Lea nodded.

"Put your seatbelt on," Lea said in a small voice, and Dahlia did so.

"Going once! Going twice! Sold!" The big man announced/

Cassandra grimaced at the word sold.

Sold.

Glen rose, as he'd been taught to do at his very first auction; then crossed the stage to the other poor-worker who'd been bought. But he stopped short just a few feet behind her. She wasn't standing up.

In a panic, Glen rushed forward the last two steps, grabbed the back of her shirt collar and pulled. He hoped she'd get the message and stand up without much fuss. Maybe it was her first auction, he told himself, because sitting, even though she had been sold...that could be seen as insolence. The last thing this girl needed was the owner's first impression of her to be offense. So he was helping her out--though she might not've known it.

Cassandra tried getting out of his hold. It upset her. "let go!" She said. He was right, this was her first auction, her first day of being a poor-worker. She struggled weakly, because she was tired and weak. "What are you doing?"

Jack grinned, glad he'd successfully won his first auction. He wasn't surprised, he easily had more money than anyone else. He quickly wrote up the cheque and casually handed it to the auctioneer, then arrived in front of his two newest acquirements. He then pulled out three items; two looked exactly like the sort of tracking collars that people under watch from the police wore around their ankle, and the other looked like some form of small, portable nail gun. "First choice: collar or implant? Collar hurts less, but is awkward to wear. Implant stings a bit at first, but doesn't get in the way of your clothes. Take your pick."

As Jack was filling out his check, Glen took the opportunity to whisper to her that she needed to stand up. He didn't have time to explain why, or apologize for jostling her, but he did release her shirt collar. When Jack came up to them he took in his breath.

"Implant, sir," he answered.

Cassandra looked from the collar to the gun thing. She didn't know what to do. She tried moving behind Glenn in fear.

Seeing Cassandra react in fear, he made the decision for her, or at least until she changed her mind. "Collar for her then." He said, putting one of the collars away in his pocket. He then stepped behind Glen, exposed a part of his neck, and pressed the nailgun-looking device up against it, pulling the trigger. There was a sharp flash of pain in his neck, as the small microchip was forcefully inserted dangerously close to his spine. Jack put the implanter in his pocket, pulled out a sterilized cotton bud, and applied it to the now-bleeding spot on Glen's neck, securing it with medical tape. He handed the collar to Glen, "Help her put this on, then we'll get going." The collar seemed fairly simple to put on; you simply fed the small strip of what looked like black leather into a gap in the device, and it most likely tightened the slack itself. After the collar was successfully put on, he lead them to a carpark, and walked towards a notably expensive car; a Rolls Royce Phantom. He opened the door to the back seat for them, gesturing politely for them to get in.

Dahlia watched as the new owner and his new slaves walked to a rather expensive car. A NEW car. Somethings that Dahlia couldn't stand were new things, and that was the reason why she had a vey OLD car, very OLD trees, a very OLD house, very OLD dirt, and a very OLD everything.

"Poor them," Dahlia said. "Hey, let's go shopping!"

"Why not?" Lea said timidly, not about to disagree with her mistress, even though she may not look upon her that way.

(Maybe one of the characters can go shopping and Dahlia meets him/her?)

Cassandra stood still for Glenn. She trusted him more then their new owner. In her mind she still questioned which was worse? The collar or thus implant?

Glen looped the collar around Cassandra's neck, careful not to scare her or let her hair get caught. Then he let himself be guided along with her into the Rolls Royce. He sat quite neatly, wringing his freckled hands; occasionally glancing out the window.

During the ride, he would have done a lot of fidgety things to pass the time: thumb-twiddling, picking at a string on his checkered shirt, tying that same tiny string into several knots, imagining what the new poor-owner's house would be like. Maybe he'd have other servants. Maybe Glen would know some of them. If it could be said there was anything good about being bought and sold, it was that one met a great deal of interesting (and often very sad) people. It was interesting enough to look forward to.

_____________________

OOC: Ooh! Me! Pick me! :P

Eliza wandered through a maze of fish...or, well, stalls that sold fish. But the stacks were so tall, and the venders really did look like overgrown, wrinkly fish with feet, so one could hardly tell the difference. She was an outdoor market that she couldn't even remember the name of, and in her wanderings she had found herself staring at a heap of beady-eyed mackerel.

"Did you want to buy some? They aren't decoration," said the shopkeeper. His face was drawn and impatient. She looked up wildly.

"I don't know how to cook fish! I...what...I don't know how to cook these, I'm sorry!" She said it, but wasn't sure exactly what she was apologizing for. The shopkeeper coughed and chopped the head off a dead mackerel.

"Calm down, lady. Don't you have yerself a cook?"

"Noo...not yet."

He huffed and shook his head. "My wife and I does. Best investment I ever made. Git yerself a cook." Eliza poked one of the slimy fish on it's belly.

"Ok," she offered. "I will. I...I'll take two of these mackerels, please."

OOC: I would've picked you anyway, since you have extra chars. ;)

Dahlia gripped the steering wheel and pressed the gas carefully. The old car creaked out of the parking space and lurched into the road. Then it drove down the road a little ways, and turned into a open-air market called "Best-Yet Shopping!"

Dahlia's car jerked to a halt in front of a pile of oranges, and Dahlia and Lea got out. Dahlia locked the car with a firm twist of her key, and they meandered into the maze of fruit, meat, and just anything you could imagine in a supermarket.

Lea spotted some fish, and indicated a few old hags selling pebble-eyed mackerel. "Fish?"

Dahlia shrugged, and went over.

There was another girl shopping, who looked flustered; one wrinkled, impatient, freckly, gnarly gnome was waving his arthritic hand at her. Dahlia felt sorry for her, and immediately called the attention of the old sot. "Hey you! I want to buy a couple pounds of this fish, make sure it's large, not small or medium!"

Lea stood behind Dahlia, her purple eyes fearful of her surroundings.

Cassandra's eyes went back and forth between Glenn and their new owner. She felt like a possession and hated that feeling. She looked out the window thinking she might find a way to safety.

(Whoa, T-girl, what happened to you?!)

OOC: Last night I wrote a huge reply and lost the tab. Sorry! ;w;

The vendor nodded noiselessly at the new customer and began stacking heavy mackerel onto a scale. A poor-worker in what looked like his late twenties rushed in through the back of the stand, behind the counter, and started restocking the ice trays. The tin awning rattled with each heavy step he took; the recycled wood of the floor creaked. It was a very old structure.

They waited. Eliza glanced over at Dahlia, and, noticing her little girl, smiled sheepishly. She waved a little. "Your daughter is beautiful, oh! and what nice eyes. How old is she?"

She wiped one of her sweaty palms on her jeans and reached it out to shake hands with Dahlia, as the other was preoccupied with holding onto a full fabric shopping bag. She was wearing an old straw hat, a floral tunic that had seen better days, and old whitewashed jeans that she had painted her house in. Her hair, today, was kinky and free all round her head and neck, as blonde as the wheat in the next market stall. Her best friend, dear Miss Rylen Oliver, would have been scandalized to know that every saturday she went out in public this way. But as for herself she seemed content with it.

--------------

As the expensive machine rolled smoothly on, Glen noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Cassandra looking at him, then up front, and back again. So timid. She looked like a little moth, with all her glances flitting around the car. Then she looked out the window like she was about to fly out. He pondered this for a moment.

"Was that your first first auction?" he asked, whisper-quiet. The car rolled ungracefully over a pothole. "It was, wasn't it?"

OOC: sorry for long delay, lots of schoolwork.
Due to the internal shape of the car, despite Glen's efforts Jack was easily able to hear what he said. Jack's eyes flicked up from the road temporarily, using the rear-view mirror to look at Glen to see if he was being spoken to; seeing Glen facing Cassandra, he knew that he wasn't the one being targeted for the conversation, but he decided to join in anyway. "Well, It was my first one at minimum. Probably won't be my last, but we'll see." Jack was watching the road again, as the rolling hills of the London countryside rolled past to their left, with a forest to their right. Jack noticed something familiar to him, and he began to slow as an average metal gate came into view, hidden just on the edge of the forest foliage. Despite it's ordinary nature, there was obviously a trick behind it when the gate automatically swung open once the car got close enough. Jack then began following the forest path in the car, and after a minute or so, they entered a huge clearing which featured what was obviously his home; a huge, four or five floored mansion that looked partially run down due to the uneven and uncut grass out the front of it, the flowerbeds with multiple weeds in them, and the occasional crack on the actual building. The cracks were difficult to notice due to the colour of the mansion, which instead of the usual total white that would be expected, was a solid black colour, giving it a sinister and even evil-esque vibe.

Cassandra looked at Glenn when he spoke to her. She sadly nodded her head. It was her first auctions, she doubted it would be her last. She jumped and looked at Jack when he spoke. Since he never been to an auction does that mean he never had any slaves befire? She wondered. She looked dour the window at the forest they drove through. Her attempts to memorize the way was useless. Everything looked the same to her. She sighed.

Dahlia smiled gently, but did not acknowledge the fact that Lea was not her daughter. "She is eight years old." She shook her counterpart's hand. "My name is Dahlia, who are you?"

Lea flinched every time a large mackerel dropped onto the scale.

(Meh short post compared to your long post. :D)

Glen, spooked, looked up to see Jack watching him in the rearview mirror. He couldn't see his eyes per the sunglasses.

"We will see, sir," he offered, unsure what else to say.

----------

"Eliz--Peony," she caught herself before she could call herself by her real name. It sounded so formal, anyway. Not for strangers in an outdoor market on a Saturday, even somber as the weather was.

"My, when I was eight I was lighting my nurse's pants on fire, and look at her standing all prim like a little lady. It's very nice to meet you, Dahlia."

She drew away her hand.

The car eventually came to a stop about two or three meters away from the front doors of the house, at which point Jack opened his car door and got out, closing it behind him. He then took his keychain up to the lock of the front door, unlocked it, then opened it.
The interior of the house was a deep shade of grey, albeit not completely black but not too far from it either. The lobby to the house was almost identical to that which would be expected in the movies; a huge room that had the floor on the bottom floor and the roof going as high up as it could, with a pair of spiral staircases made from what looked and felt like marble, each being an equal distance from each other and from the middle of the room. The stairs allowed access to each of the internal 'balconies,' being a total of four stops without including the ground floor. Jack held the door open for the two, and upon them entering shut it behind himself, casually pocketing the keys, kicking his shoes off next to the door, then cleared his throat so that he had their attention and could speak to them. "Right, welcome to my place, blah blah blah. If you make a mess, clean it up. If you ARE a mess, clean yourself up. Don't go in my room, and don't use my toilet, it'll be fairly obvious which they are. You can go pick whatever room you please, there should be clothes inside which will probably fit you. Pick your room which isn't mine, find the nearest toilet which isn't mine, then find the nearest bathroom. Pick a towel in said bathroom, clean yourselves up, then get dressed in whatever you please, and then occupy yourselves with something." He then turned and climbed up one of the staircases, stopping on the second floor and heading towards a seemingly random door. As he was about to enter the room, he turned back to them temporarily. "One last thing: Don't try running away. The implant and collar have a taser built into them, and they will send out a beacon after reaching a certain distance away from the mansion or me, and I really don't want to have to hurt you two, so just... Just chill, at least for today." He then entered the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two to their own devices.

"Hello Peony! Nice to meet you," Dahlia greeted her counterpart. "Yes, Lea is a nice girl. She is shy, though."

She smiled again, before the shopkeeper cleared his throat to get their attention. He had wrapped Peony's two fish--headless, for he assumed she wouldn't know what to do with it anyway--in freezer paper. Dahlia's fish were put in a styrofoam cooler with plenty of salt and ice.

"That'll be four pounds fer the two," he told them gruffly. "Then eleven pounds fer that lot." He indicated to Dahlia's cooler with a stubby finger.

Peony began sifting through her shopping bag for the coins. As she did, she asked, "Miss Dahlia, do you know your way about kitchens?"

Dahlia picked up her cooler, dumping coins into the seller's stubby hand. "Yes, of course I know my way around kitchens. Everyone should." Then she smiled. "Why, you want to learn how to cook?"

Mrs. Terres also put her coins on the counter: four pounds.

Behind the counter, the servant dropped a crate of fish. Old mister shopkeeper turned quickly around, whacked the kid upside the head, and reprimanded him in broken German. The worker swore back fluently. Peony, understanding each and every vulgarity, blushed bright scarlet.

"Look here, y'can have this one!" the old man said to her. "This fellow...I'd give 'im to you for free. Perfectly useless." He glanced sideways at the servant. A little fondly, like he'd look at a clumsy son. His voice was still very harsh. "Git out of here, Keuper, you're embarrassin' me."

Mr. Keuper sneered, slammed down a fish at the shopkeeper's feet, and stalked out the back door from whence he had came. The whole place rattled when it slammed. "Really though-" the old man propped his chin on his hands, "-I wonder about his sanity. If you want a rascal, ma'am-"

"No, I don't, thank you..." She nodded politely and turned to leave, with her cheeks still scarlet. She picked back up she and Dahlia's conversation almost immediately.

"...Well, my dear, yes. It's awful, isn't it? I'm a grown, educated woman, though I can't even hold a whisk." She touched her face suddenly, self-consciously, and whispered, "Can you speak German?"