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[center][h2]Clarimonde Sauerstein[/h2]
[sub]Slave Auction in Venedig, Massacre Ensuing[/sub][/center]
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[@Stitches][@Letter Bee][@Rex][@Tyki]
Blood splattered from the bolt in her captor’s throat, her eyes closing just in time to avoid being blinded. Blinking away the viscera, she saw the hordes of commoners and nobles alike fleeing from the market, swords clashing and bolts flying. It was chaos, but in the middle of it all was a woman with a mask. A wasp’s mask.
 
Clarimonde’s mind snapped into focus as she recognized the soldiers ripping through the extremists, a slight, rapid clicking unanimous behind the brutes’ masks. Lady Vespid was a well-known presence in the city, her private army accruing a staunch reputation for savage efficiency and inhuman tendencies. She hadn’t believed it unlikely that Vespid would find an interest in her in particular, but Clarimonde wasn’t surprised. Rumor had it that the House of the Wasp was always looking for new material, subjects and researchers alike. Vespid was wealthy, eccentric, unethical, and a brilliant opportunity for Clarimonde to learn a thing or two. Medicine, magic, secrets that lead to power could all be hers if she played this right.
 
 That being said… this was a delicate situation. The young lady was infinitely more concerned about the slender woman standing before her than the war around them both, and she would have to handle this the same way the nation handled perfected electrum charged with world magic if she wanted to make the best of things.
 
Then some idiot boy jumped on stage and threatened what was arguably the most powerful women in the city with a trinket, treating Clarimonde like some damsel in distress.
 
Until this moment, Clarimonde had kept her face neutral. She had seen men die before, and she doubted this would be the last time. She understood the assassination, she understood Vespid reinstituting order, but this reckless moron was going to get himself killed. For a split second, she felt her jaw start to drop before she regained control of herself. He really thought that all this was to kill her. Her House was in shambles, her family dead, and this absolute god-damned fool was going to get himself killed. Drawing straighter than she had ever stood in all her life, she issued a withering glare in his direction, her voice carrying every ounce of authority she could muster from her days in the Rebellion, all black ice and cold steel. Nude, coated in blood and chains, Clarimonde was quite sure she had never been less happy to have someone stand up for her or more intimidating. The woman blazed with an indignant rage. “Boy, you’d best leave before you get hurt. This is a place of business, and it wouldn’t be difficult for the good Lady’s guards to mistake you for one of the fools attempting to free the slaves.” She stared him down as she spoke, desperately trying convey the danger of the situation.
 
Turning to the Lady, Clarimonde did her best to curtsy deeply, the chains dangling from her manacles rattling as they struck the floor. She was proud, but she wasn’t suicidal. “Lady Vespin, I am honored by your proposal, and would surely benefit greatly from being allowed the opportunity to work for you. That being said, I am currently the property of the Emperor, and would surely be remiss to leave without being purchased. I recommend we wait for the auction to resume, as will be his intent. Then, if you are still willing, I would be delighted to hear what you think my skills to be worth.”

She was all too conscious of the blood dripping from her nose as she held her breath, waiting for a response.