Styxx
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2017
Elise answers questions in a daze, her gaze too blurred by the shock of adrenaline rushing through her system to even see the man sitting across the desk from her, scribbling her answers on to a sheet of paper like she was livestock to catalog. She was, wasn't she? Now at least. Now she was going to be here, be stuck here, and there was nothing she could do to fight that. Maybe she deserved it, but all Elise knew was that Paul definitely deserved what he had gotten. She would be here, if it meant keeping Nelly safe from the soulless, violating hands of her pervert of a brother.
Name, date of birth, next of kin - she rattles off answers in a monotone only to be lead to the wall for pictures then to a room to have her dignity stripped away with each piece of clothing that she was forced to bare herself of. She pulls her dirty blonde hair out of a pony tail when they ask her to, and the locks fall in messy waves down to her shoulder. She pulls her piercings from her ears, her nipples, her naval when they tell her to - why she can't have those she doesn't understand, but there's no regret in her so she doesn't fight. This will be home. She's okay with that.
She's moved to a unit once she's searched and she feels out of place in civilian clothes, a red plaid button down over a black tank top, leggings that ride every curve of her hips. She doesn't question it, though - doesn't ask for teal, doesn't ask about anything. Besides what she's forced to say, she was dead quiet even as one of the women in the unit spoke to her, told her the rules. She's withdrawn and stays in her cell until she's called to dinner, at which point the women of the unit drag her along. She grabs her food at sits at the same table as those in her unit, and for the first time since she arrived they get words out of her. She introduces herself, chuckles here and there. She's quiet until the girls burst in to a cheer of "Franky!", their eyes turned towards the entrance.
The outburst caught Elise's attention and she turned to see who was being paraded - one of the women, Liz, had mentioned that name not long after she had arrived. Apparantly Franky was not to be fucked with, but she had no intentions of fucking with anyone so that shouldn't be hard to avoid.
Name, date of birth, next of kin - she rattles off answers in a monotone only to be lead to the wall for pictures then to a room to have her dignity stripped away with each piece of clothing that she was forced to bare herself of. She pulls her dirty blonde hair out of a pony tail when they ask her to, and the locks fall in messy waves down to her shoulder. She pulls her piercings from her ears, her nipples, her naval when they tell her to - why she can't have those she doesn't understand, but there's no regret in her so she doesn't fight. This will be home. She's okay with that.
She's moved to a unit once she's searched and she feels out of place in civilian clothes, a red plaid button down over a black tank top, leggings that ride every curve of her hips. She doesn't question it, though - doesn't ask for teal, doesn't ask about anything. Besides what she's forced to say, she was dead quiet even as one of the women in the unit spoke to her, told her the rules. She's withdrawn and stays in her cell until she's called to dinner, at which point the women of the unit drag her along. She grabs her food at sits at the same table as those in her unit, and for the first time since she arrived they get words out of her. She introduces herself, chuckles here and there. She's quiet until the girls burst in to a cheer of "Franky!", their eyes turned towards the entrance.
The outburst caught Elise's attention and she turned to see who was being paraded - one of the women, Liz, had mentioned that name not long after she had arrived. Apparantly Franky was not to be fucked with, but she had no intentions of fucking with anyone so that shouldn't be hard to avoid.