[open]

[heirring]

WHO: Flint, Wysteria, Miriam, Cassius & You
WHAT: Catch-All
WHEN: Post-dreams, nebulously Guardian-ish
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Warnings (if any) in subject lines.

((OOC NOTE: Anything in bold is closed to one thread, though group threads a-okay.
Feel free to turn this into action brackets if The Spirit Moves You.
Wildcards welcome, bespoke starters available upon request.))

Comments

[sulahnan]

"I would have preferred you tell people ahead of time that they were signing up to be sold! How do you not hear how fucked up this all is?"

She really wants to start throwing packages, like really wants to. Too bad she's a good person.

"What other Rifters were there? Did they know you were commodifying them?"

[heirring]

"Oh really, Athessa."

It is amazing, given her momentum and the ice and the unreliable shoes and her armfuls of parcels, how quickly Wysteria can stop.

"First it was on behalf of Monsieur Dalat, now it is on behalf of any Rifter. First your concerns were with the venue, and then with whether the evening had proper approval from Riftwatch's leadership. It sounds to me as if this has very little to do with the particulars of the event in question at all. Have you considered the possibility that you may be somewhat sensitive to these matters? For perfectly understandable reasons, I grant you. But that hardly is warrants twisting the intention of the thing. You make it sound as if I personally packed the whole of them into a cage and send them off in the dead of night for the rest of their lives. It was a dinner. A few hours of their time at most. And--"

And.

"You cannot possibly say that if I had divulged every facet of the evening's plans that anyone at all would have agreed to the work. There is nothing at all in the entire world which the members of Riftwatch like less than themselves."

[sulahnan]

"What you intended doesn't change how it looks," Athessa fires back, though she doesn't notice Wysteria stopping until she's already a few steps ahead. Turning back, she comes to a decision: fuck this.

"And maybe, just maybe, if nobody would've agreed to the work if you were up-front about it, that's kind of a sign that you should reexamine the work."

All this said while reloading her armfuls of parcels onto Wysteria, going even so far as to balance one on top of the blonde's head. Athessa brushes off her hands, for effect, and starts back the way she was originally headed.

"Don't let me catch you selling any more people," she says, just loudly enough that someone might hear (if only there were anyone about).

[heirring]

In her wake, Wysteria huffs and puffs after her--blustering as she struggles to safely re-allocate the parcels so abruptly returned to her care.

"I hardly doubt you will ever be in such a position, Athessa," she calls, insistent to the last. "For I--"

Whatever the exact form her protests are meant to take go distinctly lopsided however. They are replaced by a squawk as one of the packages slips from her overburdened arms.