Demerits {Tag: Cerberus}

[Delia Westing]

Delia had actually been behaving enough that Raphael let her out of her cell in the dungeon on the guise that she would be able to extend her legs a little. What that meant was kitchen duty for the night. He was trying to show her what the difference between pet and slave was, to break her in areas where fear simply did not reach. He'd already reduced her to nothing, or so it seemed, but now he needed to build her up, to make her see why she wanted to be a pet, and not just a replaceable slave.

She wanted to grumble as she did the dishes, but she knew at this point she'd just be in more trouble than she was already in. Silently, she washed, demanding inwardly to know why they did not have a dishwasher for this portion of the massive kitchen area. It looked like the dishes had been sitting for weeks, if not months, and she had to bite back vomit as she touched several of them, brushing away maggots and flies alike.

The swinging wooden door of the kitchen banged shut and startled her as she hand-dried a rather fine piece of dishware, and she jumped, dropping it. She tried to catch it, but her reflexes were spent from hours of mental and physical abuse with little sleep or solace.

"Shit!" she exclaimed without thinking, knowing that she could be punished even for speaking without permission in this place. She dropped to her knees, picking up shattered pieces of the dish quickly, scooping them into the length of the plain white apron she'd found and donned to try and keep her clothes clean. She didn't even want to look up and see who'd approached, for fear of getting into even more trouble.

[Cerberus]

Cerberus, in all actuality, wasn't very much the considerate sort.  He hadn't even thought about the fact that the kitchen door slamming shut might startle someone, and he hadn't even looked at the girl washing dishes.  Normally, they weren't people he cared about, anyway.  Best case scenario, he'd never have to really interact with them, and worst case, he'd chase them down for attempting to escape.  Or maybe he had those reversed.  He DID love to chase them down.

Hearing the girl yell an obscenity had his attention, though, and the dish shattering on the floor.  The obscenity was the real shock, though.  Midnight's slaves didn't do that.  It made him take a second look at her, and he blinked in obvious shock when he saw her.

"Delia?  What are you doing here?" he asked, not the smartest of questions, but he'd thought she had all those sisters.  How'd someone like her end up in Midnight?

[Delia Westing]

Delia stared at Cerberus, no recognition in her face for a few seconds. She had stopped what she was doing briefly, but remembered herself, and looked back down to the mess, resuming cleaning it with a great amount of speed. As she did, she spoke.

"How does anyone get to a place like this?" she asked, not facing him as she emptied the remnants of the dish into the trash by shaking her apron. She grabbed a broom quickly and turned, brows raised. "I'm going to get into trouble if I don't finish. My Master is fairly firm about his rules."

Was he ever. Delia learned not to talk back on day one, when he'd stricken her paralyzed with fear. Narkisa had been much harder to break, but he attributed that more to age and circumstance. Delia was already damaged when he got her, she was easier to work with.

[Cerberus]

He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide his next move.  People skills weren't his forte, though he tried.  Dealing with a girl who'd been kidnapped and sold into Midnight wasn't an easy task for anyone, let alone a guy who liked to run around as a dog.  He was in over his head.

"Ooookay, who's your Master?" he asked, realizing he wasn't going to get much out of her about how she got there.  Personally, there were plenty of ways people got to Midnight, but he was doubting it was his way that had landed her there.  "So keep working.  You don't have to stop to talk."

Sadly enough, he would have helped her if he didn't know that if her Master walked in and saw her getting help, whoever the vampire was would probably be pissed.  They didn't like that.  At least Cerberus could go back to doing what he'd come in there for immediately and allay suspicion.  He wasn't about to deal with pissed off trainers because he wasn't a pet, but a bloodbond.  He was tamed only by Hades, and only due to loyalty.  Otherwise, he stayed out of trouble because it wasn't worth the hassle but he'd be damned if some trainer was going to teach him 'his place'.

[Delia Westing]

Delia frowned for a moment, and then seemed to agree to continue working while he lingered. Cerberus had every right to be in the kitchen - it was public domain. It would be Delia who was punished, though Raphael preferred to do that in closed quarters. He was not one to parade beaten animals for show. It was tacky. He refused to be associated with the likes of Kay or Daryl.

"Raphael," she said, as though she'd answered any other normal number of questions. She glanced back to the Doberman as she dried another dish, this time without dropping it. "Do you know him?" she asked curiously. "Or Narkisa, his... pet?" She still couldn't grasp that the she-wolf was a pet. She seemed so much more, and yet, at times, so much less.

Both of them were not so much a household name quite yet, but Narkisa was often let out into the courtyard to sit in the cool shade while Raphael tended to his business elsewhere. She was quite a beauty, though many in Midnight were. Most trainers did not keep ugly slaves and pets - although a bloodbonded wolf was something more rare.

[Cerberus]

Raphael.  He knew the name, and he knew of the pet, but he didn't know them well.  Raphael wasn't someone that Hades really associated with, and Cerberus disliked that Raphael walked around with the stench of fear surrounding him.  Not his OWN fear, but the fear of others.  He wasn't even so sure that it was an actual smell, or just a feeling, but he didn't care for it.  Narkisa was both insane and uppity, in his opinion, so he didn't really bother with them.

It wasn't like they really gave a shit about him, either. 

"I know of them, yeah.  He wouldn't be my choice for a master if I had to have one, but I guess a lot of the trainers here aren't desirable company," he remarked, not really caring if that was something most of the non-vampires there would cringe at hearing.  It was true, and he didn't care if they were so egotistical that they couldn't recognize it.  He felt bad for her, though.  He hadn't ever thought to see her there, and hadn't wanted to.  What could he do for her now, though?

Absolutely nothing.

[Delia Westing]

"No, not really," she said. "I've seen a few that seemed to be a bit more... sane, but really, what is sane about this place, after all?" she asked. She surveyed Cerberus for a moment, and then added, "I can't believe you even hang around here," bitterly. Delia had met him when she was freeblood, and even then, the idea that someone she'd spoken to on casual-flirtatious tones being associated with this place... she turned her back on him to finish what she was doing, before finally, tossing a rag on the counter and leaning against it. She sighed a little.

"Nobody even came looking for me," she said. "If they have, I haven't seen any result of it. I guess their lives are better without me."