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Post by SceneMod on May 21, 2010 22:46:15 GMT -5
Bleak paused in taking Clipper away only long enough to murmur something in Shi're's ear. The madam nods, then turns back to the crowd, politely deflecting questions until she's sure Clipper is safely locked away.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!" she say, holding her arms up high, "Don't fret! The auction will begin after our lady has had some time to refresh herself. After all, I'd hate for anyone to complain later that his goods were too tired to be properly pleasing." Shi're laughs darkly, and several of the men laugh with her.
"In the meantime, please, feel free to put in your initial bids. Be prepared to dig deep, my friends. You'll not find a treasure like this on Pz-zazz in a hundred years!"
There's a faint roar from the crowd then, as glasses are raised and cries of "Here, here!" and similar are shouted.
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Post by Clipper on May 24, 2010 14:07:55 GMT -5
Cannonball finally ditches his too nosy competition as E'byn wanders off to speak with a few other guests, opting to be more patient about descending upon Shi're. There are a few droll chuckles and sly looks cast in the pirate's direction from E'byn's group, and much tinkling of glasses against each other, but, otherwise, the snobbish men ignore the mech.
Clipper meanwhile paces along beside Bleak with all the decorum and careful courtesy she can muster, bound and determined to do her best and please Shi're. Once they are fully out of sight, though, she can no longer contain her excitement and pleasure, and turns toward her escort.
"Do you think that I did okay, Mister Bleak? Is Miss going to be happy? I hope that I did all right. I just want to help make things right for Miss, I hope that I'm helping," she gushes with a mixture of hopeful anxiety and bubbly cheer.
There are more attendants waiting now, though, to take her off Bleak's wings and prepare her with new clothing and accents, and so the blackbird may be lucky enough to not have to answer.
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Cannonball
Minor
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Posts: 470
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Post by Cannonball on May 25, 2010 18:52:45 GMT -5
Cannonball does not bid yet - need to gauge what the others in the group will bid. No sense overspending, right? However, he does chuckle along with the group.
A bit of careful maneuvering, and the pirate inches through the crowd, getting a bit closer to Shi're - still a number of individuals between him and the madame. "Oi, Miss, I must ask 'ow you 'appened upon such a rare treasure! Curiosity abounds!"
And Cannonball wants to know if his suspicions are correct about that flash of red he saw.
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Post by SceneMod on May 25, 2010 22:58:58 GMT -5
The auction will be starting shortly, but Cannonball can probably get an idea of what the opening bids might be like, just from listening to the crowd speculation.
Shi're turns to go and check on her prize, but stops as Cannonball calls her. She turns back.
"Now, now, sir. I'm certain a gentleman such as yourself understands the concept of trade secrets, yes? Suffice it to say that the young miss is payment for a debt owed me, and let us leave it at that yet."
Now, Shi're's place down on the row getting flattened by naked robots of indeterminate origin is common knowledge. Cannonball can draw what conclusions he will.
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Post by Clipper on May 26, 2010 11:50:02 GMT -5
Back in the room where Bleak has brought her, Clipper suddenly finds herself swarmed by attendants who chatter amongst themselves. Bleak is lucky, he can escape with merely a stiff smile and a clacking of his wicked beak before he is shooed out by the gaggle of women fussing over Clipper. Clipper, herself, can do little more than stand in the center of a whirlwind of activity as her dress is swiftly stripped off, bows and ribbons and flounces neatly maneuvered over her structures. She sighs with relief when someone kneels and pulls off her shoes, while another woman is busy peeling off her stockings and the short gloves she'd had on. "Oh, Miss Clipper, you're looking flushed. Here, try this," a younger looking woman with brilliant jewel-toned scales says as she presses a glass filled with a sparkling, lurid pink liquid in it into her hands. "Miss wants you looking your best for this last costume change, and you can't be looking all worn out and flushed!" "Oh! No, no, that wouldn't do," Clipper agrees, taking the glass and sipping at the contents as she's maneuvered to perch on a bench for a moment. She gasps as the potent effervescent hits her receptors. "Tastes strong!" "It's to flush your fuel filters, dear," another woman with deep indigo skin and beautiful rainbow feathers instead of hair replies. "Don't worry. Miss made sure to get just what you'd need." "Oh. Well..." Miss must have spoken to the others, and the drink tastes stronger than what she's been drinking all evening, but it would probably have to be to help flush her systems. And it isn't a bad strong. Quite pleasant, actually, once Clipper gets past that initial burn, and Clipper feels quite... decadent to merely be sitting there, sipping a special cocktail, while everyone fusses over her. One of the women is carefully rolling on new stockings, thicker and taller, with a wide lacy band at the top that hits Clipper about mid-thigh. once those are on, she's urged back to her feet so that the women can have her step into a trim, lacy little garment like pants with no legs at all, and matching garter straps that clip into those stiff stockings front and rear center. Once those are settled - the stockings are much stiffer than her last set, and Clipper finds that it's more comfortable to simply stand still while the women bring the rest of her costume to her - the dress is brought out. It's all bright white and pleats and lace, cut very, very high in the front, with a lower back hem, and a huge bow that sits right at the middle of her back with the huge tails of it drooping toward the floor to end at just below her knees. It's cut so high in the front, in fact, that once it's on, that lacy undergarment is quite visible, which explains why it, too, is so frilly and decorative. It takes a while to get that dress on, though. It must be carefully laced onto Clipper in sections since it's really too stiff to slip on over her head as she had the other one. There's so many layers of lace to make the petticoats, in fact, that Clipper doubts that she'll be able to sit at all in this costume, and the boning in the bodice makes it hard to twist around or bend over at all. It's an ingenious bit of tailoring with more lace and pleats to hide the cords and straps that hold the dress together on Clipper, so that without a close inspection, it's impossible to tell that the dress isn't simply one piece like the other had been. Clipper frowns a little, shifting to try and get comfortable. It isn't exactly uncomfortable of a garment, but it's definitely going to be much, much more difficult to move around freely in it. She finds herself wishing that Miss would have let her practice with this, rather than the other things she'd been wearing all week. Her empty glass is plucked out of her hands so that sleeves can be pulled up her arms. They don't attach to the dress itself, instead, they start just above Clipper's elbows where they are held in place by small, strong magnets concealed by bows, and the cuffs are muffled with more lace and flounces, all the way past Clipper's fingers, with ribbons that secure the ends in place tightly around her wrists so that she can't even push them up out of the way of her hands. Fashion... seems rather ponderous. And revealing, as one women starts tugging and adjusting the dress across Clipper's frame, pulling the top of the bodice just a bit lower until more than half of her Autobot symbol is exposed. Once it's adjusted to the older woman's satisfaction, the laces and straps are cinched down tight and tucked away; Clipper is suddenly quite glad that she isn't organic and doesn't need to breathe, because doing so in the confines of the costume would be... tricky. There is abruptly a felinoid woman with a brilliant scarlet pelt standing before her holding a palette covered with paints, a few brushes tucked into the mane of yellow gold curls behind her ears. "Hold still. I need to get your make-up on," she orders calmly as she studies Clipper for a moment, and then starts dabbing a brush into some deep crimson that she begins applying to Clipper's lips. It isn't hard to hold still, really; the dress takes care of that. It just feels funny to have someone putting paint on her like this. Lips, around her optics, her cheeks, lots of subtle little daubs of paint everywhere, until Clipper almost imagines that she's wearing a whole new face. There's no mirrors, though, for her to see herself in. She can only guess by the feel of those cosmetic paints drying upon her plating, which is getting a little indistinct with the way everything is starting to tingle a little. "Here, have a little more now, so that we can touch up your make-up before you go back out," someone offers, and there's a glass pressed to her lips again. She manages a small sip before shaking her head. "Are you sure? I feel... " fuzzy, and maybe a little... removed from herself. "It will pass. It's just the cleansers." Oh. Well, perhaps another sip or two won't hurt then, and then the paint on her lips is touched up again as someone else fastens to her head a bow with a profusion of tiny curling ribbons that cascade to her shoulders. Finally, the shoes. They're similar to the heels she's worn before, but white, and much taller. Clipper eyes them with a little dismay, wondering how she'll ever be able to walk in them at all! She is steadied as she steps into each one in turn, and waits patiently as sturdy ribbons are laced up and around her foot to wrap around her ankles and fasted into neat, dainty bows. Well, at least if she stumbles, those ribbons will keep her from accidentally losing a shoe. "I hope Mister Bleak will be helping me again," she says with mild dismay. "I don't want to upset Miss, but I'm not sure I can move in all this very well at all."
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Cannonball
Minor
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Posts: 470
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Post by Cannonball on May 27, 2010 14:08:32 GMT -5
Cannonball offers Shi're his best smarmy, slag-eating grin and chuckles. "Of course, m'lady, of course..."
The answer regarding payment just sends Cannonball's mental gears into overdrive. Suspicions that this little lady-bot is in fact an Autobot run high, but more evidence is needed...
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Post by SceneMod on May 27, 2010 21:52:15 GMT -5
Bleak will indeed be there to help Clipper. In fact, the blackbird is already knocking upon the door.
Shi're moves to the stage set up on the veranda, just beyond the fountain, giving a few final directions to the staff. The assembled gentleman begin to arrange themselves around the stage, joking for the best view.
The music starts.
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Post by Clipper on Jun 8, 2010 13:41:09 GMT -5
Clipper is very grateful for Bleak's steadying arm on hers, not to mention his solid presence. Several times as he leads her gracefully - at least he's being graceful, that is - toward that stage, she has to balance herself against him as she sways on those ponderous shoes in the stiff costume. A costume with a daring enough neckline that Cannonball should have no trouble making out that Autobrand on her chest, now, by the by.
The lights seem brighter now, somehow. Perhaps it's just that last glass shed had backstage during the costume change, but the fine clothing and the lights and the decorations all seem to almost sparkle in her vision as Bleak carefully leads her up to the center of the stage. She turns, casting a faintly regretful look at the blackbird as he gets her positioned there and withdraws his hand; she'd been hoping for someone to lean on a little. Hopefully Miss doesn't expect her to do any catwalk parading or anything. She'll never pull it off in these shoes.
As she turns back to face the crowd, though, she catches a glimpse of herself in one of the many mirrors dotted about the spacious, glamorously decorated room. Is... is that her? The sparkles clear just long enough to really register how the paint on her face has really accentuated her features, how that costume fits her. She feels very young, suddenly, seeing all those white ruffles, and the ribbons and make-up and bows that imprison her. Young and... vulnerable, and no matter how she tries to shift, how tall she tries to stand, no matter how she tries to pose, the image remains.
It makes her uncomfortable, and she darts a look of inquiry up at Miss, needing reassurance. Something... just doesn't feel quite right, but through the sparkles and pink haze and general fuzziness in her processor, she can't quite put her finger on it.
She wishes that Holi were here. He'd fix it.
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Cannonball
Minor
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Posts: 470
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Post by Cannonball on Jun 8, 2010 19:38:53 GMT -5
As Clipper debuts herself, Cannonball and the other patrons turn their attention toward her.
Cannonball's attention shoots right to Clipper's chest - and not for the reason one would expect of the lecherous old mechanism - that bright red brand is unmistakable to the pirate.
Clearly, the Autobots have not kept their new arrivals abreast of Cannonball's little facade from the past. This works wonderfully, yes. Provided he wins the auction...
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 10, 2010 10:44:02 GMT -5
Shi're simply smiles at Clipper when Bleak brings her up on stage. The madam gives the girl a once over, pacing around her, occasionally reaching out to smooth or tweak some aspect of the girl's ensemble. One last pat on Clipper's head and Shi're moves to take up the microphone a servant is handing her.
"Now gentles, let us get right down to the meat of the matter. Everyone simply must agree that the merchandise I'm previewing here tonight can't be matched even by the most fashionable houses of the Highlands, let alone our gem of a city. The winner of this auction can truly claim a collectible beyond compare, and will be the envy of every creature who could not dig deep enough into their pockets."
"A fair amount of remote bids have been logged, and with that in mind, we have adjusted the starting price a bit."
A murmur goes through the crowd at that. No doubt many were hoping that short notice and Shi're's lack of station would keep the price low. Shi're gestures, and an austere looking gentleman who looks rather like a hermit crab sidles up to the stage. She hands him the microphone.
"Now then, we'll do this properly," he croaks, voice raspy, "Everyone has their numbers, yes, and knows procedure? No bid will count without a number flashed, and a number flashed is a binding bid. Ready then?"
"The bid opens at two hundred thousand shanix."
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Post by Clipper on Jun 11, 2010 5:55:55 GMT -5
The pat upon her head should be the reassurance Clipper needs, and she tries to be reassured, she really does. The way everyone is looking at her now, though, doesn't seem so very... flattering... as it had before. Clipper tries to brush it off, though, as simple discomfort of being so very center stage. Literally.
But then the opening bid is posted, and Clipper's optics get very large, her expression one edging on shock. Two hundred thousand? She doesn't really know anything at all about how their monetary system works on this world, but...
But that just seems like an awful lot of currency for a dress!
It's more than just a dress, though. Yes, that's it. It's the whole product line, right? For that much, surely it has to be, although Clipper thinks that's sort of a funny way for the fashion world to work.
Except... why did Miss say "collectible"? That seems to imply one thing.
She's trying to be collected and calm and the perfect model for Miss, she really is, but Clipper is very confused, and that's getting very hard to cover with nothing more than a smile.
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Cannonball
Minor
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Posts: 470
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Post by Cannonball on Jun 15, 2010 1:26:02 GMT -5
Heh. 'Collectible'.
More like bargaining chip.
If the reaction the last time Cannonball took a hostage was any indication, those Autobot saps are probably already on the hunt for the little miss here, unless they're actually doing this to make money. Given the air Clipper has about her, though, Cannonball highly doubts that.
Still, if he wins her, surely he can make a good turnaround, either in local currency, or something better. If he can't think of anything good to ask for, surely Swindle can. Of course, that can all be addressed in the morning.
Cannonball pulls his number from subspace, and raises it above his head, calling out over the crowd - "Two-fifty!"
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 15, 2010 11:38:05 GMT -5
Cannonball's bid goes up amid a chorus of others, and the crab auctioneer's voice rolls with a speed one wouldn't expect. The bid is moving up swiftly, well past the two hundred fifty that Cannonball bid. It hits four twenty five in the space of seconds, and then slows for a moment. Then a cool, cultured voice cuts across the crowd.
"Six Hundred Thousand."
It's Vy'lien, of course.
A murmur runs through the crowd, and several men shake there heads and begin to filter back inside.
Shi're , meanwhile, notes Clipper's confusion, and decides to do something about it. She moves back to the girl and slips a glass into her hand, bends low and murmurs. "I know it's a bit intimidating dear, but you're doing just lovely. I may have to make you my spokesmodel after this! But you've certainly earned a celebratory drink all ready. It's from my private reserve, very expensive."
Also very sweet, very fizzy, and very, very strong.
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Post by Clipper on Jun 15, 2010 16:21:21 GMT -5
Even if Clipper weren't already feeling a bit dizzy with all the lights and the glitter and confusion, the swift pace of the bidding would be hard to follow. She's barely managed to register that it's already hit the four hundred thousands, when that familiar voice utterly stuns her with his bid.
Six hundred thousand? The very thought... frightens her. Money must be cheap here. It has to be.
Before she has too much time to dwell on her fright, though, Miss is there, pressing a glass into one hand. Clipper finds that she has to clutch it between both hands to keep them from shaking, holding it like a much larger receptacle as she raises it and takes a sip. The drink is so sweet, that its strength doesn't really register. Miss's "offer" does, though.
"Spokesmodel?" She's shocked by the offer, and her voice probably carries to the front bidders as she glances up at Miss. "Really?" It's incredibly flattering, and she doesn't really know what to think.
Except that she and the others aren't planning on staying on Pz-zazz. "B-but... I have to go home?" she replies, clutching that glass with both hands like a shield after she takes another drink. "The others... they'll miss me. Won't they?"
She really wishes Holi were there. She's not feeling very glamorous any longer, and everyone's stares are making her homesick for her real friends.
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Cannonball
Minor
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Posts: 470
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Post by Cannonball on Jun 15, 2010 22:03:50 GMT -5
Cannonball's jaw clenches a bit - so much for not blowing the bank wide open. The bid rockets up fast, but stops when that other 'bot from earlier makes a nearly 200k jump.
Others dissipate from the crowd, beaten, but Cannonball moves forward. Thankfully, the shopkeepers here who bought some of the baubles Cannonball had stored away were very liberal with their currency, so Vy'lien had best be ready for a challenge.
Cannonball's number goes up again - "Eight 'undred thousand." He then looks to Vy'lien, a slight smirk on his face.
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