Orchid Espere (
petal_storm) wrote2019-03-12 02:27 pm
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Rarity
Who: Orchid, Any
When: Several years in the future in a baaaad dystopia but not quite as bad as some.
What: Medical debt is a killer.
Some days living was a pain.
Hell, most days honestly, especially when you were delicate. She was in hospitals more than out as far back as she could remember and eventually, like most longer term need people, debt got to a point there was no way for her family to pay it back. Her father had been lost when his plane went down on a mission out of states, and the nannies she'd been left with, well...
...they found employment elsewhere when the 'care' fund was drained due to medical.
She hit eighteen somehow which meant her debt officially went on the market, and, well, a lot of businesses ran on debt contracts.
Luckily she was...interesting. Visual appeal, much less textural, meant higher end places were willing to take on her whole debt instead of several having to group together, and that was how she ended up a headliner at 'Rarity', one of the more exclusive gentlemen's clubs. They didn't ave a cover charge, they didn't sell nickel peeps, no. Rarity had a yearly membership fee that was terrifyingly high and tips were more in the high end jewelry and vehicles range than bills in stockings.
She was lucky she supposed; it was high end enough her rooms met her needs and she spent less time in the hospital but...
...just like those in lower clubs they had a high drug use and burn out rate. How not?
Drugs were cheaper than medical care honestly.
"Ilya I told you not to let anyone slip you things," Orchid sighed, petting the poor girl's hair as she rested her head on the bar. They were were a twenty four hour business but they closed every six hours for a few hours to let people rest and the like.
"Didn't..." Ilya whimpered softly. "I don't know when, or how..." But she was drugged, her friend Orchid was like a living drug test, if she wasn't drugged Orchid would be touching her skin instead of her hair.
"Water," Orchid winced, "I'm sorry. I'll check your clothing and makeup, that's the last things that were delivered to you right? How close are you to debt free?"
"Two weeks," she sobbed softly. "I was doing so well..."
Damn it all. Orchid patted her hair again, "I'm sorry. I won't send you to the hospital, nor will the bartenders okay? You just have to fake it if the boss comes in while I'm gone okay?"Please?
"Try," she agreed, shivering. God she felt nauseous and numb now...
When: Several years in the future in a baaaad dystopia but not quite as bad as some.
What: Medical debt is a killer.
Some days living was a pain.
Hell, most days honestly, especially when you were delicate. She was in hospitals more than out as far back as she could remember and eventually, like most longer term need people, debt got to a point there was no way for her family to pay it back. Her father had been lost when his plane went down on a mission out of states, and the nannies she'd been left with, well...
...they found employment elsewhere when the 'care' fund was drained due to medical.
She hit eighteen somehow which meant her debt officially went on the market, and, well, a lot of businesses ran on debt contracts.
Luckily she was...interesting. Visual appeal, much less textural, meant higher end places were willing to take on her whole debt instead of several having to group together, and that was how she ended up a headliner at 'Rarity', one of the more exclusive gentlemen's clubs. They didn't ave a cover charge, they didn't sell nickel peeps, no. Rarity had a yearly membership fee that was terrifyingly high and tips were more in the high end jewelry and vehicles range than bills in stockings.
She was lucky she supposed; it was high end enough her rooms met her needs and she spent less time in the hospital but...
...just like those in lower clubs they had a high drug use and burn out rate. How not?
Drugs were cheaper than medical care honestly.
"Ilya I told you not to let anyone slip you things," Orchid sighed, petting the poor girl's hair as she rested her head on the bar. They were were a twenty four hour business but they closed every six hours for a few hours to let people rest and the like.
"Didn't..." Ilya whimpered softly. "I don't know when, or how..." But she was drugged, her friend Orchid was like a living drug test, if she wasn't drugged Orchid would be touching her skin instead of her hair.
"Water," Orchid winced, "I'm sorry. I'll check your clothing and makeup, that's the last things that were delivered to you right? How close are you to debt free?"
"Two weeks," she sobbed softly. "I was doing so well..."
Damn it all. Orchid patted her hair again, "I'm sorry. I won't send you to the hospital, nor will the bartenders okay? You just have to fake it if the boss comes in while I'm gone okay?"Please?
"Try," she agreed, shivering. God she felt nauseous and numb now...
Re: Rarity
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"Bartending?"
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"And about being able to sleep in Orchid's room?"
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"I can control myself."
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"Fine." He sighed.
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"Good." He noted turning to leave.
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Almost.
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"Its the least you owe us given you missed this for so long and tortured my sister for something that was not her doing. I'm not going to thank you for something as insufficient as this." He noted pausing at the door.
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"Humane. Nothing about causing her have so many seizures that she's half feral now is "humane". YOU DID fail in this. And you have harmed us. You broke Ixi. And I will never forgive you for that."
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"One week of therapy isn't going to be enough. For either of them." He snarled pacing over to put his hands on the desk. "And you know what, you might out to give a shit about the mental sanity of your "assets" given the fucking burn out rate here and the suicides. You'd be amazed what not charging your assets with more fucking debt to get the help they need will do for your bottom line. Not running your assets into the literal grave would do absolute wonders. Six fucking hours of sleep and then right back into hell is KILLING your "assets". The inability to connect with people forces an isolation that is KILLING your "assets". Not allowing your "assets" to blacklist people or sort into personal kinks is KILLING your "assets". Happy "assets" perform better, bring in more money and generally make clientele happier. Happier clients bring in more clients and pay more, stay longer, and return more often. But sure, burning through people like they're expendable seems like the better option."
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"Meanwhile we pay for it." He laughed bitterly.
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"If I thought you cared about us for one second...."
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"You care about the money you make letting people rape and abuse us. If you think your day of reckoning isn't coming then you're delusional." He noted quietly.
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"It has nothing to do with social justice and everything to do with basic human rights." He growled.
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