strippernameserendipity (
strippernameserendipity) wrote in
spncentral2016-03-28 02:22 pm
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Trapped in the past?
Claudia didn't know exactly how it had happened, but the guy she'd been trying to snag an artifact from had caught her instead. She remembered being dragged through some kind of portal, and a conversation with some very strangely-dressed individuals that would have scared even some of the toughs she'd known in her time on the streets. It had been hours before she really understood what had happened, to get even a slight grip on the foreign words and sights around her. Somehow, she'd been sent back in time, when exactly she wasn't certain, and given over to these scoundrels to do with as they pleased. It wasn't until she saw the city that she even knew where she was. Nobody could mistake Rome, even this ancient shining city.
Her wrists tied together and into a string with the other unfortunates, the only real indignities she'd been spared were being stripped of her possessions and raped. From the little she could catch, they thought she would being them quite a small fortune as a wonder. Maybe even one of the senators would find her worth having, and it wouldn't do to damage the goods unnecessarily. Still, she had quite a few bruises and a blackening eye from the casual 'encouragements' she'd received. A halting attempt at what she knew of Latin and Greek had only resulted in snickering laughter and an incomprehensible reprimand with a threatening knife at her mouth. Apparently their definition of 'damaged goods' didn't include the ability to speak.
Now, she was turned over to the slave auction, and there, nothing could have prepared her for the indignities. Her clothes, much the worse for wear after all the travel were unceremoniously stripped off her in front of the noisy crowd as one man gave a long-winded description of her, enthusiasm clear even through the language barrier. She struggled against the touches of interested parties, only her bonds keeping her from being able to strike back.
She'd yanked away from yet another impertinent squeeze when she finally saw a familiar face. It made her gasp, her thoughts latching onto the name that went with it in what might have been a prayer of salvation, but she had to get his attention. And if he was the one from this time, she couldn't just call him by name. Not his real name. Still, she knew one of those he'd used in the millenia he'd been hanging around pretending not to be an archangel.
"Loki! Help me!" The words were in modern english, and that was probably a mistake, but she was too distracted to try for something more appropriate to the era just now. She had to get his attention, maybe get the eager shoppers to give her some space. She had to get out of here.
Her wrists tied together and into a string with the other unfortunates, the only real indignities she'd been spared were being stripped of her possessions and raped. From the little she could catch, they thought she would being them quite a small fortune as a wonder. Maybe even one of the senators would find her worth having, and it wouldn't do to damage the goods unnecessarily. Still, she had quite a few bruises and a blackening eye from the casual 'encouragements' she'd received. A halting attempt at what she knew of Latin and Greek had only resulted in snickering laughter and an incomprehensible reprimand with a threatening knife at her mouth. Apparently their definition of 'damaged goods' didn't include the ability to speak.
Now, she was turned over to the slave auction, and there, nothing could have prepared her for the indignities. Her clothes, much the worse for wear after all the travel were unceremoniously stripped off her in front of the noisy crowd as one man gave a long-winded description of her, enthusiasm clear even through the language barrier. She struggled against the touches of interested parties, only her bonds keeping her from being able to strike back.
She'd yanked away from yet another impertinent squeeze when she finally saw a familiar face. It made her gasp, her thoughts latching onto the name that went with it in what might have been a prayer of salvation, but she had to get his attention. And if he was the one from this time, she couldn't just call him by name. Not his real name. Still, she knew one of those he'd used in the millenia he'd been hanging around pretending not to be an archangel.
"Loki! Help me!" The words were in modern english, and that was probably a mistake, but she was too distracted to try for something more appropriate to the era just now. She had to get his attention, maybe get the eager shoppers to give her some space. She had to get out of here.
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Gabriel had been taking one of his trips outside Scandinavia to keep abreast of what was going on in other parts of the world. It wouldn't do to be blindsided by any threats or incursions into his domain, for example. There may also be wanting to see and do something new as motivation.
News of the rise of the Roman Empire made it's way even as far north as he was. This was helped, of course, by a detachment of Roman soldiers that managed to get lost, although they didn't actually cross the sea. The news from traders who plied both sides of the water were what made it across.
All this led to Gabriel making his way to the city of Rome to investigate. A change of clothes later to mark himself as from further lands but not far enough to potentially get trouble stirred up against him later, he had mostly free run of the city in the guise of a provincial on his first big trip away from home to see where the laws and trade goods were passed on from.
Further leading to him being in the market, looking at the goods available, be they different kinds of food, fabrics, or livestock. Which included the portion set aside from the rest where the slaves were sold, be they ones sold between buyer and seller with little fanfare or up on the auction block where as many potential buyers as possible could see some of the better ones who might fetch a higher price.
He didn't take much notice of Claudia at first, pressing his way elsewhere. He noticed the hair color but didn't really look at her. Then she was shouting his other name and his head snaps around to her so he could focus on her. Then his eyebrows go up as he takes the time to really look beyond the surface. Well then. That was interesting.
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"Loki, please, get that feathery ass of yours over here and fix this!" she called out above the crowd. She needed help, and she needed allies. Even if it would be a paradox of sorts to deal with the archangel she loved this far in his relative past.
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His expression smooths out and he strolls over to look her over as if he was just another buyer. Unlike several of the others, he didn't check her over with his hands, sticking to looking with his eyes.
Then the auctioneer was done talking Claudia up and started taking bids. Gabriel let most of the initial bids get done and out of the way, giving a few of the buyers time to drop out as the price went higher than they intended to pay before inserting a bid of his own that was promptly topped by someone else. All told, it took about twenty minutes for the bidding to die down, with a few little mental nudges to push out some of the ones willing to take the bidding unreasonably high for the fiances of his cover.
Once it was over, he was the winner with a few of the losers grumbling as Claudia was dragged back off the stage to be put back in basic clothing and turned over to him as he counted out the money to be turned over to the person actually in charge of handling the cash and listening to one of Claudia's handlers assurances that once properly broken in, she should be useful at whatever tasks he had for her.
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She almost collapsed in relief when the whole thing ended, but it didn't stop there, instead she was given some scratchy material in a tunic of sorts that left most of her legs bare. No shoes, either, but then, she wasn't that important, apparently. While a part of her wanted to try to grab the archangel by the arm and drag him off somewhere safe, that would probably be bad. So instead she waited, watching him with an air of defiance she couldn't quite keep off her expression. He may have bought her, but that ownership wasn't going to change the way she'd act. "Well, Trickster?"
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Gabriel ignores her until he's done with his transaction and has received the papers detailing Claudia's status as a slave. Then he's given the end of the chain attached to the manacles on her wrists. He promptly wraps his end around his hand to keep a firm hold of it lest she actually tries to break free. Then there's a sharp tug to make her move forwards and a "Follow me," in Latin.
Time to get her away from here to someplace private. He hadn't originally intended to rent a room to stay in but it looked like he was going to have to, once he found an inn catering to people buying slaves with quarters to keep them in, anyway.
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Still, she didn't exactly protest to being lead down the street on a chain like some dangerous animal. From the descriptions she'd managed to translate into something resembling English, she was pretty sure she was considered just that. A barbarian wonder from distant lands. There were a couple of times she ended up tugging on her end, like when she would have had to follow him through some kind of stinking offal in front of the butcher's and other noxious things that people barely seemed to notice. Most of the city was clean, though, at least cleaner than most might expect. She just had no idea what her place might be in it until she could get back to where she belonged.
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Further down the line was food in the form of bread cheese and a piece or two of fruit, these options not requiring cooking. Then and only then, did Gabriel find the kind of inn he was looking for.
A conversation with the proprietor later, Gabriel leads Claudia into the room he's rented, locking the door behind them to prevent interruptions and laying down an auditory illusion to cover their actual conversation with the sounds of him telling her what he expected out of her in terms of her duties. Along with other things.
"All right. How the hell do you know me?" he says, using Norse, dropping the satchel holding the papers regarding her and the food on the table in the room. Not that there was much in it. The table, bed, chair, and a hanging lamp were it, along with the curtains for the window.
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"It's hard not to when we live together," she said, glad that the knowledge of the language she'd gotten was like she'd grown up speaking Norse instead of struggling for translations. "The endless supply of cookies may factor in there, too."
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"I think originally you were just trying to blow my mind with that. Or I blew yours because I wasn't exactly surprised. And then I built the house as a supernatural fortress. Nobody else from either side can get inside."
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He would like the answer to be 'no'.
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She shrugged a little, uncertain what to say. "I'm glad the world's still around, but details should probably not be something we talk about. We're already courting paradox, right?"
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After that week, they're in Gabriel's territory within a heartbeat and she's been settled with one of the families who follows him to learn how to manage things like cooking in the here and now.
As can be predicted, his own house is the biggest and the only building bigger is the great hall, since it needed to be able to hold as many people as possible for either important events or more general get-togethers.
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It was also a relief to be somewhere that the language was natural to her, something she understood and spoke fluently. Learning to manage a household was something else entirely. She'd never really thought about how complicated it could be to warm a building with fires or cook on them. Cleaning, well, the dirt floor was packed, but those rushes...that was new and utterly alien to her. Some of the dogs took care of the vermin that tried to come inside and make homes among them, at least. It was a long way from what she might have seen on History Channel, but she would manage, somehow.
Mending and sewing was turning out to be a lot harder. She'd already been jokingly banished from the looms because her weaving lacked the speed or skill of the other women. They accepted her as an equal on a lot of things, because she had their god's favor, but teasing was quite common as she showed few matronly arts. It was much easier to spend part of her day making beads and other small decorative items to exchange for services she hadn't yet mastered, although she didn't dare stop trying to learn.
And then in the evenings the tables where brought out to have a communal meal and handle any conflicts that might have come up during the day, or visitors, or whatever. She could almost see herself fitting in here, on some level, although she knew she'd always be the outlander to them.
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Although obviously, he couldn't spend all his time doing so, given his responsibilities in Scandinavia. And the need to keep an eye on Claudia. Not that he was concerned about her blowing his cover. Someone like Baldr sniffing around, on the other hand...
Anyway. Tonight's he's actually around for the meal, drifting between groups before settling near the head of the village. Always good to know what's been going on when he wasn't around.
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Still, she didn't mind it all that much. He was a lot like his future self, although less polished by the passage of centuries and the changes of the world with them. And sometimes, she almost missed having him by her side as a partner instead of this strange balancing act.
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She's fairly promptly shooed in his direction while he sips at his drink as he waits for her.
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It was a good joke to these people, the skillful artisan without any menial skills to speak of. The roar of hearty laughter from the table only emphasized that, and Helga, the headman's wife and nominal representative of the women's needs before her husband and the other leaders gave her a beaming smile. Everyone knew the trickster god had an interest in odd things and people, anyway.
"No worries, Loki, I'm keeping everyone quite entertained."
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"I will continue my efforts as long as it does not hinder the welfare of my new people," she promised, in a mockery of formal style. "You know things were different where I come from, and few could hope to find this much welcome anywhere in my situation."
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The last was more for their audience. She knew he was truly trying to help, but Claudia didn't know how long she could keep trying to live so far from home in both time and location.
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