[Week 17, Day 5] there are not enough OH SHITs in the world to cover this broadcast
warnings for some talk of erm sexual slavery and prostitution and drugs and other such things. some discussion thereof, yes.
+video is entirely accidental and can be said to be caused by the gods or onis for some mysterious reason. imagine that the screen is shifting around quite a lot.
fft: language stuff -- I ... winged it. I don't know for certain how the Natives speak exactly. all the "miss Kuromu" can be interpreted as a fairly proper version of speaking (not that he is necessarily saying those exact words in English, as it were, but some equivalent; that works, I hope?)
YES, I GAVE CHROME MORE OF MUKURO'S POWERS, also. Because I think in time, he'd teach her more? IDK. I don't see why not. inb4 not shown in canon, etc.
[ The video opens to darkness.
One of the dark places of the world, dimly candlelit, and in the flicker of the flames, the shadows coil and writhe like a nest of snakes against the rice paper curtain through which the silhouette of a woman's body can be glimpsed in pieces: curve of a thigh, whisper of a slender, belted waist, and when the view shakes and slants downward, one sees the sharp edge of a boot's tip. She is, as they would say back on Earth, "dressed to the nines," wearing a black dress jacket (which she adjusts vigorously), skirted, with thigh high boots. The woman makes her way over the threshold with ease. A larger body follows her into the room. An eagle-eyed observer might note that there is something strange, stilted almost, about its movements. It is a hulking mass which appears to lumber rather than "walk," were a verb applied.
The interior you witness not in a single focus, but in flashes.
It is an atrium, the ceiling a vaulted triangle from which descends a highly decorated red paper lantern, center of the room. Swans in silks on the walls; tapestries depicting the passing of dynasties and the birds of the water, the changing of the moon, child emperors from seasons before time, the glories long and old and forlorn.
On a normal business day, there would be people reclining on the benches and the cushions that litter them. Today, although you see and hear and perceive the motion of bodies beyond the curtain which separates this room from the back chambers, this room is mostly empty. Two guards at the front. A serving man. A woman who appears briefly, like a night moth, then fades again into the other room. Her body melts with the sway of the curtains. But there is one other man, one who does lie on the nearest of the benches, and when his visitor enters, he rises to a sitting position.
He holds the stem of the opium pipe -- simple bamboo -- between long, jeweled fingers; the knuckles knobbed as if through toil, enlarged in appearance by rings, with nails that have never met modern clippers, long and broken, with something like a calcified appearance. One slow inhalation, over the lamp which fuels the pipe, and then he blows out. Takes a sip of tea. Smiles and beckons. ]
Miss Kuromu. [ The hand is held out.
She bows only slightly, but takes it in greeting and gives a small shake, and for the briefest instant, the man's face twists a little; wry, (as though, in truth, the foreign woman should be greeting with her mouth to the proffered hand, on one bent knee. Instead, she is cupping it in her own. That fleeting distaste of others' customs being pushed into a place where they are unwelcome --
-- but then his expression smooths again. Business, you see, comes first.) ]
You are my guest. [ Spread arms, and then a clap. ] Please. Allow me to offer you a courtesy taste --
[ He takes another indulgent smoke, sighing pleasantly, and perhaps a little theatrically, before nudging it in her direction. Chrome, hands linked at her waist as though holding an imaginary purse, shakes her head. ]
No, thank you. I shouldn't smoke now.
If you insist. No tea, either?
[ She eyes it warily. ]
I respect your caution, but I would not poison the one with whom I am about to engage in a business transaction. [ He sets the pipe down. ] I imagine the reasoning should be obvious.
Thank you, but. I will pass.
[ The man indicates that it would be fine for her to be seated, then. She sits, legs pressed together tightly rather than crossed, hands bunched in her lap, back straight, eye forward and direct. The gaze of the one with whom she is speaking assesses her, glancing briefly now and again at her companion, who has not spoken a word, and who seems, in some respect, utterly inhuman. A golem of sorts. ]
That isn't one of those creatures, is it, Miss Kuromu? You know -- [ And here his voice adopts the most calculating note of remembered distress. ] They brought ruin to many other houses like mine, during that week.
Not yours.
[ She glances back at the gun which one of the guards holds, although it looks utterly out of place within this establishment. The meaning of her look is apparent, and the man with whom she is conversing takes a moment to laugh appreciatively. ]
No, thanks to the weaponry you sold. You and -- where is that man?
I am his partner, Mister Sadao. I can oversee this transaction.
I have no doubts, Miss Kuromu. Shall we discuss the trade? My understanding is that your partner wishes to control the power structure in Yomisato, so you are selling most to those with whom fruitful alliances and returns are to be had.
[ Her face, when you can see it, remains expressionless. Pokerfaced. ]
Houses of pleasure are a worthy investment. [ Another sip of tea. ] I would use the money to create more brothels. I have heard that you are somewhat more tenderhearted? You should understand, then, that for women who work in the back alleys, the risk of... unpleasant ends is... significantly higher, you know. Such places can be seen as modes of protection for those in the trade.
[ There is a long, strange pause. For a moment, she lowers her head, expression unreadable. ]
Oh. Protection.
We would offer music and games of mahjong; would you care to play one?
[ She shakes her head. ]
Opium, and, for those willing to pay a higher price -- [ A slow smile. ] That which you offer. And... yes. Massages, yes.
Sexual slavery.
[ She removes the euphemism. ]
[ Mister Sadao, the owner of the establishment, for a moment reclines and touches his chin, as if considering the most business-appropriate response -- as if considering whether she is simply invested in some notion of cut and dried "accuracy" or whether she is raising a moral objection in shifting the terminology.
One of the guards laughs and makes a remark in a gutteral dialect. Chrome turns in her seat, but only for an instant. Then, her stare resumes. ]
He says you must have the selective pussy of a Celestial woman. Ah, so crude. Lower classes, you know? I don't claim to share that opinion. I believe we all work to make a living. With hands and feet and... yes, pussies, in some cases. If your pussy is exempt from having to work, be glad, Miss Kuromu, though I imagine your husband, if you have one, is pleased to spend his income on others. As a general rule, we have no interest in any cunt which exacts too many demands of its use. That's very cruel, isn't it? Ah, I did not create this system, however. It was here long before I. And those with the power to get what they want with as little work as possible on their ends... will always seek for such, whether it's cunt they seek or an easy route to riches.
It's very unfortunate about those women, but their people turned them out, and many have little schooling save for in pleasure, which brings the highest wages needed for the addictions that many have. I suppose, with your body and pussy in such a pristine state... no addictions, free to have leisure with it... I suppose you and the Celestials are too far removed to look at the reality of these lives. But they would not thank you if you suggested removing their profession, Miss Kuromu. That would help no one. More brothels. More protection from murder on the streets.
[ Looking down, steadily, into her lap.
She almost flinched at these descriptions. Almost.
But that was part of the intent, was it not? To unsettle her?
So, rather than flinching, Chrome holds up the vial.
V -- hallucinogen, stimulant; super-strength and arousal with highs that put you far beyond your right mind. The hangovers are uncomfortable, but it's not (so far as Chrome knows) as dangerous as some other drugs, and she is, to this day, a little in awe of it.
She names the price. ]
Ahhhhh. [ Scrape of teeth over bottom lip. Another long inhale, and then holding the stem of the pipe as if in thought. Twisting, as if marking with calligraphy. Somewhere, the distant notes of a strummed erhu can be heard, faintly. ] I see. I see. Expensive, don't you think?
[ She shakes her head. ]
Did they teach you to be quiet to draw a hard bargain? [ His voice is laced with something that might be a tinge of grudging admiration. ] Let's say... rather...
[ Another price, and Chrome shakes her head. Sits forward, a little, as if she will rise to leave. ]
The price.
[ Her voice is soft. Unhurried, but undeterred. ]
[ Sadao sits back. Shrugs, and sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. ]
Imagine. We Yomites have tried to be nice to you foreigners. Ah, nothing for it, then, I suppose.
[ He snaps his fingers and takes a drink of tea, while, behind them, there's the click of a gun being trained on a target.
The camera shakes and spins, revealing that one of the guards has trained the gun on the woman in the chair. She does not move. ]
The price...
You should tell me what you do to your hair to get that look. I believe some of the women here would -- hm? I hope I don't need to have you shot?
[ Her face wears a look of long-suffering exhaustion, and in another moment, the gun shifts its target.
Its owner has turned so that it is pointed, newly, at the man at the bench.
(Whose face reveals, to say the least, surprise.) ]
-- demonic possession?
Mind control.
[ She corrects delicately.
It was one of Mukuro's more difficult skills to learn. ]
[ He laughs. ]
Well-played, Miss Kuromu.
Will you pay it?
[ In a tone which indicates she would be more than pleased to leave, if he isn't. This isn't really her preferred method of socializing. ]
It seems I have little chance for negotiation.
[ Chrome rises. Pats down her skirt. Crosses the distance between them, and, with the gun of the other body still focused attentively on the establishment's owner (and most other bodies in the room looking confused), begins to pour herself a glass of tea.
She drinks, eye closed, and the feed ends. ]
+video is entirely accidental and can be said to be caused by the gods or onis for some mysterious reason. imagine that the screen is shifting around quite a lot.
fft: language stuff -- I ... winged it. I don't know for certain how the Natives speak exactly. all the "miss Kuromu" can be interpreted as a fairly proper version of speaking (not that he is necessarily saying those exact words in English, as it were, but some equivalent; that works, I hope?)
YES, I GAVE CHROME MORE OF MUKURO'S POWERS, also. Because I think in time, he'd teach her more? IDK. I don't see why not. inb4 not shown in canon, etc.
[ The video opens to darkness.
One of the dark places of the world, dimly candlelit, and in the flicker of the flames, the shadows coil and writhe like a nest of snakes against the rice paper curtain through which the silhouette of a woman's body can be glimpsed in pieces: curve of a thigh, whisper of a slender, belted waist, and when the view shakes and slants downward, one sees the sharp edge of a boot's tip. She is, as they would say back on Earth, "dressed to the nines," wearing a black dress jacket (which she adjusts vigorously), skirted, with thigh high boots. The woman makes her way over the threshold with ease. A larger body follows her into the room. An eagle-eyed observer might note that there is something strange, stilted almost, about its movements. It is a hulking mass which appears to lumber rather than "walk," were a verb applied.
The interior you witness not in a single focus, but in flashes.
It is an atrium, the ceiling a vaulted triangle from which descends a highly decorated red paper lantern, center of the room. Swans in silks on the walls; tapestries depicting the passing of dynasties and the birds of the water, the changing of the moon, child emperors from seasons before time, the glories long and old and forlorn.
On a normal business day, there would be people reclining on the benches and the cushions that litter them. Today, although you see and hear and perceive the motion of bodies beyond the curtain which separates this room from the back chambers, this room is mostly empty. Two guards at the front. A serving man. A woman who appears briefly, like a night moth, then fades again into the other room. Her body melts with the sway of the curtains. But there is one other man, one who does lie on the nearest of the benches, and when his visitor enters, he rises to a sitting position.
He holds the stem of the opium pipe -- simple bamboo -- between long, jeweled fingers; the knuckles knobbed as if through toil, enlarged in appearance by rings, with nails that have never met modern clippers, long and broken, with something like a calcified appearance. One slow inhalation, over the lamp which fuels the pipe, and then he blows out. Takes a sip of tea. Smiles and beckons. ]
Miss Kuromu. [ The hand is held out.
She bows only slightly, but takes it in greeting and gives a small shake, and for the briefest instant, the man's face twists a little; wry, (as though, in truth, the foreign woman should be greeting with her mouth to the proffered hand, on one bent knee. Instead, she is cupping it in her own. That fleeting distaste of others' customs being pushed into a place where they are unwelcome --
-- but then his expression smooths again. Business, you see, comes first.) ]
You are my guest. [ Spread arms, and then a clap. ] Please. Allow me to offer you a courtesy taste --
[ He takes another indulgent smoke, sighing pleasantly, and perhaps a little theatrically, before nudging it in her direction. Chrome, hands linked at her waist as though holding an imaginary purse, shakes her head. ]
No, thank you. I shouldn't smoke now.
If you insist. No tea, either?
[ She eyes it warily. ]
I respect your caution, but I would not poison the one with whom I am about to engage in a business transaction. [ He sets the pipe down. ] I imagine the reasoning should be obvious.
Thank you, but. I will pass.
[ The man indicates that it would be fine for her to be seated, then. She sits, legs pressed together tightly rather than crossed, hands bunched in her lap, back straight, eye forward and direct. The gaze of the one with whom she is speaking assesses her, glancing briefly now and again at her companion, who has not spoken a word, and who seems, in some respect, utterly inhuman. A golem of sorts. ]
That isn't one of those creatures, is it, Miss Kuromu? You know -- [ And here his voice adopts the most calculating note of remembered distress. ] They brought ruin to many other houses like mine, during that week.
Not yours.
[ She glances back at the gun which one of the guards holds, although it looks utterly out of place within this establishment. The meaning of her look is apparent, and the man with whom she is conversing takes a moment to laugh appreciatively. ]
No, thanks to the weaponry you sold. You and -- where is that man?
I am his partner, Mister Sadao. I can oversee this transaction.
I have no doubts, Miss Kuromu. Shall we discuss the trade? My understanding is that your partner wishes to control the power structure in Yomisato, so you are selling most to those with whom fruitful alliances and returns are to be had.
[ Her face, when you can see it, remains expressionless. Pokerfaced. ]
Houses of pleasure are a worthy investment. [ Another sip of tea. ] I would use the money to create more brothels. I have heard that you are somewhat more tenderhearted? You should understand, then, that for women who work in the back alleys, the risk of... unpleasant ends is... significantly higher, you know. Such places can be seen as modes of protection for those in the trade.
[ There is a long, strange pause. For a moment, she lowers her head, expression unreadable. ]
Oh. Protection.
We would offer music and games of mahjong; would you care to play one?
[ She shakes her head. ]
Opium, and, for those willing to pay a higher price -- [ A slow smile. ] That which you offer. And... yes. Massages, yes.
Sexual slavery.
[ She removes the euphemism. ]
[ Mister Sadao, the owner of the establishment, for a moment reclines and touches his chin, as if considering the most business-appropriate response -- as if considering whether she is simply invested in some notion of cut and dried "accuracy" or whether she is raising a moral objection in shifting the terminology.
One of the guards laughs and makes a remark in a gutteral dialect. Chrome turns in her seat, but only for an instant. Then, her stare resumes. ]
He says you must have the selective pussy of a Celestial woman. Ah, so crude. Lower classes, you know? I don't claim to share that opinion. I believe we all work to make a living. With hands and feet and... yes, pussies, in some cases. If your pussy is exempt from having to work, be glad, Miss Kuromu, though I imagine your husband, if you have one, is pleased to spend his income on others. As a general rule, we have no interest in any cunt which exacts too many demands of its use. That's very cruel, isn't it? Ah, I did not create this system, however. It was here long before I. And those with the power to get what they want with as little work as possible on their ends... will always seek for such, whether it's cunt they seek or an easy route to riches.
It's very unfortunate about those women, but their people turned them out, and many have little schooling save for in pleasure, which brings the highest wages needed for the addictions that many have. I suppose, with your body and pussy in such a pristine state... no addictions, free to have leisure with it... I suppose you and the Celestials are too far removed to look at the reality of these lives. But they would not thank you if you suggested removing their profession, Miss Kuromu. That would help no one. More brothels. More protection from murder on the streets.
[ Looking down, steadily, into her lap.
She almost flinched at these descriptions. Almost.
But that was part of the intent, was it not? To unsettle her?
So, rather than flinching, Chrome holds up the vial.
V -- hallucinogen, stimulant; super-strength and arousal with highs that put you far beyond your right mind. The hangovers are uncomfortable, but it's not (so far as Chrome knows) as dangerous as some other drugs, and she is, to this day, a little in awe of it.
She names the price. ]
Ahhhhh. [ Scrape of teeth over bottom lip. Another long inhale, and then holding the stem of the pipe as if in thought. Twisting, as if marking with calligraphy. Somewhere, the distant notes of a strummed erhu can be heard, faintly. ] I see. I see. Expensive, don't you think?
[ She shakes her head. ]
Did they teach you to be quiet to draw a hard bargain? [ His voice is laced with something that might be a tinge of grudging admiration. ] Let's say... rather...
[ Another price, and Chrome shakes her head. Sits forward, a little, as if she will rise to leave. ]
The price.
[ Her voice is soft. Unhurried, but undeterred. ]
[ Sadao sits back. Shrugs, and sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. ]
Imagine. We Yomites have tried to be nice to you foreigners. Ah, nothing for it, then, I suppose.
[ He snaps his fingers and takes a drink of tea, while, behind them, there's the click of a gun being trained on a target.
The camera shakes and spins, revealing that one of the guards has trained the gun on the woman in the chair. She does not move. ]
The price...
You should tell me what you do to your hair to get that look. I believe some of the women here would -- hm? I hope I don't need to have you shot?
[ Her face wears a look of long-suffering exhaustion, and in another moment, the gun shifts its target.
Its owner has turned so that it is pointed, newly, at the man at the bench.
(Whose face reveals, to say the least, surprise.) ]
-- demonic possession?
Mind control.
[ She corrects delicately.
It was one of Mukuro's more difficult skills to learn. ]
[ He laughs. ]
Well-played, Miss Kuromu.
Will you pay it?
[ In a tone which indicates she would be more than pleased to leave, if he isn't. This isn't really her preferred method of socializing. ]
It seems I have little chance for negotiation.
[ Chrome rises. Pats down her skirt. Crosses the distance between them, and, with the gun of the other body still focused attentively on the establishment's owner (and most other bodies in the room looking confused), begins to pour herself a glass of tea.
She drinks, eye closed, and the feed ends. ]