tirocks

Chapter 1

Dec 31st, 2017
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  1. "Sold, to the gentleman in the top hat and tweed jacket!" booms the voice of the auctioneer. You stir distastefully, sniffing at the perfumed handkerchief in your hand as your eyes rove over the milling crowd. You know that the grotesquely overweight individual dressed in the straining, brass-buttoned overcoat is referring to you- but the distaste is not masked one bit. This was, after all, a an auction-house for slavery- despite their non-human appearance, the ponies did demonstrate their own measure of sentience. For now, the purple-maned pony with an immaculate white coat- so out of place in her musty surroundings- was what caught your interest, at the cost of a fair measure of coin. Your patience was thinly strained as you waited for the corpulent announcer's assistants to draw her over to you, your hands restlessly toying with your pocket watch as you waited for the proud creature to be led to you, her heavily-lidded blue eyes distrustfully eyeing her new master as she was roughly dragged by the bit by callous hands towards were you stood. After all, the assistants were used to this kind of show- and their weathered frowns indicated that they had no qualms with compelling the ponies "peacefully" or otherwise. Regardless, you manage to barely restrain yourself as you snatch the leash out of the half-witted crony's hand in exchange for a pre-measured purse, waiting patiently with poorly-concealed disdain as his clumsy hands mill through the pouch and count the appropriate sum. He flashed you a leery smile, revealing several missing teeth as he gives a perfunctory smile before shambling away as the auctioning continues. That was no longer a concern of yours, as you gingerly give the leash a tug as you lead your new purchase away from the distasteful scenery. As you lead the white pony unicorn away, you cannot help but notice that, despite her captivity, she has an almost haughty jaunt to her steps. Feeling satisfied with your new purchase, you make your way home.
  2. As soon as you exit the dimly-light auction hall, you find yourself in the brightly-lit open air. A delightful breeze wafts over you, effacing the musty dankness of the previous, compacted air. The gentle air of the outside world is a welcome replacement to the stale stench of sweat and muddled fear, but alas- you are well intent in leaving that behind with your treasure in tow.
  3. "First off," you begin cautiously. Despite you well-kept appearance and generally refined upbringing, you are a complete stranger to these kinds of matters. Which, unfortunately, shows itself in the tentative lack of authority in your face- something wihch the alabaster-coated unicorn takes immediate advantage of.
  4. "First off," she says crossly, a subtle air of refinement in her voice as she speaks with a latent authority befitting someone who expects her word to be heeded and obeyed. "I am not some lowly unhorned pony to be led about like a horse to market." The sheer haughtiness of her voice gives you pause, your thoughts racing as you try to make sense of this odd turn of events. "I expect to be treated with the respect and gravity due a lady of my stature." She pauses in the street, raising a demure hoof to her proud chest as she casts her glorious mane from side to side. Despite the capitivity and implict lack of upkeep and maintenance, there was still an attractive lustre to her amethyst hair. Which was, to your hidden satisfaction, a detail that you made note of and could not help but keep on admiring.
  5. You raise your free fist to your mouth, clearing your throat into it as you eyed her warily. If not for the bit and leash keeping her bound, she would have made an almost majestic figure. There was an impressive level of elegance in the way she held herself despite the restraints, a degree that made you grudgingly respect her that little bit more despite the fact that she was in captivity to the fetters imposed upon her and that you assumed. After an awkward stand-off in which she watched you sideways through heavily-lidded eyes, you give the bridle a slight tug to get her moving again. "Come on," you begin meekly, slightly cowed by the way she carried herself, even when in what should have been her subjugation. "We need to get you home and washed up before you go prancing about like that." You let out a weighted sigh, a slight frown on your face as you begin to reconsider your recent purchase. Maybe there was a reason for why she was at a discounted price, despite the first impression that she was quite the pedigreed specimen of value.
  6. "Yes, let's," the purple-maned unicorn assented, holding her head aloft as she jauntily stepped her way down the street. In the wrong direction, unfortunately, to which you gave the bridle a slight tug to correct her course. The tug was enough to throw her slightly off-balance, to which she quickly recovered and stepped haughtily in the direction you outlined, making sure to keep in front as if to lead despite the fact that you were the master and she the slave. You stifle an exasperated sigh to yourself as you ruminate the rest of the way home. This did not bode well at all- even though you were new to the fashion of buying these sentient equines, you had a feeling of trepidation that this was not­ quite what others so breezily made it out to be.
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