These deadly games we play.

[Claire]

[ ooc; I wrote this quick one-shot just to refresh myself after the brief hiatus I took while I was sick with the flu. It's based on the time Magdalen spent 'working' in the Top and is an example of one of the events she was forced to participate in as a companion. Just be aware there is a bit of mild violence described below. ]


“Magdalen”

My own name sounded unfamiliar, but managed to shake me from the temporary coma I had resigned myself to sometime over the past few minutes. In fact – as I continued to sit quietly – I contemplated that it seemed almost foreign. The man addressing me was the same individual whom had paid for my company that evening; however his demeanour and expression had changed since our departure from the party we’d been attending earlier. He was colder now and his voice suggested he was used to issuing commands … commands that were followed without question.

My eyes lifted slowly in a sort of delayed response then as I watched my hands twitch, drawing them towards me and clutching them to my chest as the five other men gathered around the mahogany table waited with bated breath.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you why you are here.”

He didn’t. However the fact that I had indebted myself to the services of these men for the sake of providing for my family was not enough to dispel the urge to defy this particular order. It seemed beyond ridiculous that such a group of privileged, successful people still felt the need to prove something to one another through such a destructive, violent means. Was it really all a show of bravado? Or the product of boredom? I wasn’t certain, but the fear that caused my chest to ache was proof enough that whatever it was … it was real.

Without thinking I reached over and slid my trembling fingers around the grip of the heavy revolver, pulling it towards me and lifting it into the air to inspect it with wide eyes. The weight of the weapon indicated that it was loaded, but with how many rounds I wasn’t sure. All I could really feel was that it was time, and a sickness settled in the pit of my stomach as I spun the cylinder. The metallic echo that followed was almost deafening in comparison to the silence of the dark, soundproof room and before I knew what was happening next the gun was plucked from my hand.

Another click, but nothing was fired.

The man to my right refused to betray the sheer sense of relief he was feeling. Unfortunately I couldn’t pretend to be so composed. Both hands grasped the edge of the table, throat dry and heart pounding as the gun was passed back to me. I stared at it and tossed my companion a sideways glance. He returned it sternly.

I could barely keep a firm hold on the thing now as I – once more – spun the cylinder, therefore resetting the probability that the next shot would be a lethal one. The weight disappeared from my outstretched hands.

Click.

Another long pause and the revolver slid to a halt in front of me; looking more and more like a poisonous snake ready to strike should I dare to touch it again.

“ … I … I-I can’t.”
“Magdalen –”
“Stop! Why are you doing this?!”

I stood up from my chair suddenly, the urge to vomit much too persistent to ignore. However a hand caught my wrist, squeezing until the pain was enough to distract me from my state of hysteria. I struggled for a few moments and the other occupants of the room began looking uncomfortable. This was wrong. However as twisted as this method of entertainment was, I had no choice but to abide by the contract I had signed.

Tears started to well up in my eyes but as I forced myself to breathe the fear began to transition into fury. I grew angry, unable to control myself any longer as I sobbed hoarsely and snatched the gun viciously into my hands.

I spun the cylinder.
And then a second time.
And a third, glaring at it with black hatred.

Again.
Again.
Again.

It left my shaking hands.
The shot was fired.

And all I felt was the warmth of the blood that had splattered across my arm and hands. His blood.

“Geoffery, you may collect your winnings upon departure. Congratulations. As for the rest of you, we look forward to your participation in the future. Have yourselves a fine evening.”

[Sarah]

Whoa ho!

[Claire]

Haha, yeah. It was my first time writing in first-person though. Kind of interesting.

[Sarah]

Never would have guessed. It was really good!

still have to go back to write the ones I started. I kinda hate how I've begun the Sol one... might have to do a redo of the first scene.

[Claire]

Ooh! I'd love to see when it's finished. Kind of a Solomon fangirl over here. ;D

[Blank]

This was really great, I love the little look into what Magdalen had to do Top (besides what seems like the obvious)!

[Claire]

Thanks Kayle! Yeah, the poor soul was forced to witness and participate in quite a few horrific things. Perhaps it was best for her to suffer amnesia after all?

Although some things are slowly coming back to her.