It wasn't the practice per se. It was the method. Every human drugged into the same mindless zombie. How were you supposed to see their personalities and know one from the next? They wouldn't still be the same after the drug wore off-- and while some vampires might simply keep their claims in that eternally drugged state, Nami was not one of them. She wanted someone who was alive. Who acted like it.
Which meant looking a bit more closely for other bits of information that might be helpful. How scarred and battered were their bodies? How did they come to be for sale? As each one comes under the spotlight, she examines their appearance. It wasn't a foolproof system, deceptive as appearances could be, but it was the best that could be done considering. Who looked like someone with spirit under the blank expression and stare?
She sees her answer at once when he's led to the stool. Captured rebel. It ought to be an offputting detail, or at least one that would entice for all the wrong reasons. Nami liked it. Here was someone that had to be passionate and willing to fight for what he believed in. And just a bit, she felt compelled to intervene. Nami didn't sympathize with forces that wanted vampires removed from power, but she did empathize. Oppression ran to the top rung of the ladder, after all.
She snatches him up after a bidding war (that was completely unnecessary, all it did was make it more expensive for her!) and gets in the pick-up line early, uninterested in the remainder of the auction. Better to beat the crowd, and the sooner out of this pit with her charge, the better.
She forks over payment and moves out of the line to the receiving area. She waits in a vintage green dress with a wide belt, gold jewelry and heels. Her auburn hair is half-up, the rest spilling over her shoulder in soft curls.
Even to a place like this, Nami always believes in looking like a million bucks.]
no subject
It wasn't the practice per se. It was the method. Every human drugged into the same mindless zombie. How were you supposed to see their personalities and know one from the next? They wouldn't still be the same after the drug wore off-- and while some vampires might simply keep their claims in that eternally drugged state, Nami was not one of them. She wanted someone who was alive. Who acted like it.
Which meant looking a bit more closely for other bits of information that might be helpful. How scarred and battered were their bodies? How did they come to be for sale? As each one comes under the spotlight, she examines their appearance. It wasn't a foolproof system, deceptive as appearances could be, but it was the best that could be done considering. Who looked like someone with spirit under the blank expression and stare?
She sees her answer at once when he's led to the stool. Captured rebel. It ought to be an offputting detail, or at least one that would entice for all the wrong reasons. Nami liked it. Here was someone that had to be passionate and willing to fight for what he believed in. And just a bit, she felt compelled to intervene. Nami didn't sympathize with forces that wanted vampires removed from power, but she did empathize. Oppression ran to the top rung of the ladder, after all.
She snatches him up after a bidding war (that was completely unnecessary, all it did was make it more expensive for her!) and gets in the pick-up line early, uninterested in the remainder of the auction. Better to beat the crowd, and the sooner out of this pit with her charge, the better.
She forks over payment and moves out of the line to the receiving area. She waits in a vintage green dress with a wide belt, gold jewelry and heels. Her auburn hair is half-up, the rest spilling over her shoulder in soft curls.
Even to a place like this, Nami always believes in looking like a million bucks.]