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Seeking Sherwood Interlude 3
🕑 Added 2019-07-26 14:19:08 +0000 UTCLeft alone on the ship, Veronica contemplates what she can do to throw a wrench in the works. If the Vice Regent thinks she can chart the course of Veronica's life, she has another thing coming!
... a little forbidden snack along the way couldn't hurt, could it?
Written by the wonderful Rabidbadger writing, illustrated by me!
Characters/Owners:
Garth - Nackvixen
Veronicas - Veronacus
Temperance - Paris
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Veronica had expected better of her captor, though she couldn’t really explain why. Ego, maybe. Not wanting to believe she could be held like this by someone careless. Yet here was the evidence, the Vice-Regent’s quarters were wholly unlocked, and the ship was empty. It was kind of eerie really, most of the ship’s systems were offline while it was docked. The whole place was lit dimly and completely silent, but as strange as that felt it also told Veronica a few things. Crucially, that she had the ship to herself. Not even the pilot was here, or if she was, she was in her quarters and being wholly silent.
At first Veronica had hesitated, it wasn’t like this was a quiet little rebellion. It was the kind of thing that would, win or lose, change her life going forward. What tilted her toward action was coming past part of the ship she’d already cleaned. It wasn’t anything meaningful by itself, just a bulkhead that had needed buffing and polishing, and she’d put her all into it. That thing shone, now. Which made it pretty reflective. It was the perfect thing to take in just how swollen and heavy she looked.
It had been so little time, and her figure had been destroyed by that woman. Clad in running clothes and a little sweaty from her work, she looked like the kind of person who claimed to be pregnant instead of fat – and was too fat to pull off the lie. Her butt was getting enormous, her chest was swollen, every little movement she made felt slow and heavy and her back was starting to hurt like she’d been at this all day instead of a couple of hours. Even as she looked at herself she could feel the Vice Regent indulging herself out there, felt her gut heavy and tight for just a moment before it fixed that problem and she felt a little heavier, a little greasy under the skin, maybe also a teeny bit buzzed.
A few moments of rubbing at her gut, wishing she could will the transfer to stop working, was all it took after that to make the decision for her. Veronica marched to the door of the Vice Regent’s quarters and pulled it open, looking around for some sign of something useful. Anything useful. Unfortunately, all she saw was the predictable detritus of what she already knew. That the Vice Regent was a glutton of the highest order. There were trays everywhere, half of them with crumbs and smeared sauces and frosting on them, empty cartons and boxes, though no large uneaten morsels. Either because the Vice Regent was using the reclamation unit fairly religiously or because she just never left anything that big uneaten.
The room left her feeling furious, equally because it flew in the face of her efforts to clean this ship up a bit and because it was simultaneously useless to her and further evidence that she was under the thumb of someone reckless, stupid, and undisciplined. Not that Veronica let her first impressions put an end to the effort, but even after half an hour of trying to quietly and carefully search the place left her with nothing except a rumbling stomach and a lethargic, slightly tipsy state of being. Which was why after the half hour mark she stopped bothering putting things back where she found them and started tossing the place.
Fifteen minutes later Veronica was storming out of the quarters howling in frustration, kicking over the mop and bucket she’d been all set to use cleaning the corridor floors with. Feeling torn between allowing the tantrum to continue or just moving, to keep moving – make what progress she could against the growth. As she struggled with herself over this, though, she found a third option.
It wasn’t a large ship. Only a little bit of blind, angry wandering had been needed to take her to the hall leading to Dawn’s quarters. Inebriated as she felt at the moment, there wasn’t a whole lot of time she spent deliberating the matter. Veronica half stumbled as she reached the door, finding that unlocked too.
Veronica had no real idea what to expect of Dawn’s quarters, but they sense once she did. A mixture of spartan necessities and very specifically chosen decorations – things meant to evoke the most possible emotion to their owner no doubt – for the least amount of consumed space. They were visibly smaller than the Vice Regent’s after all, heck they might even be smaller than Veronica’s she realized, but they felt cozy. Lived in. Loved in. They also contained something that immediately got Veronica’s attention resting on the nightstand by the bed.
It didn’t look like much; it wasn’t much really – just a book next to a small potted plant. A leather-bound book with handwritten contents. Specifically, logs of where they’d been – other details about the journey. The ship’s transponder codes – the one thing that would let anyone out there track them no matter where they went. Something she could get help to find her with, if she had a reasonable offer to make, which…
Nothing. She had nothing to offer. Not unless it was the woman herself, or maybe her associate – the one who had designed the collars – that…
Veronica exhaled. That would only get the attention of people who would do more harm than good if she got in contact. She set the book down, glancing idly at the plant. It was, at least, nice to see something green in all this. Apart from the little bulb of crimson and violet anyway, the one nestled amid a bit of rose hued petals. Veronica blinked slowly as she looked at the thing more closely – it was fruit. She had no idea what kind, but she was sure of that much.
Reaching for it, Veronica hesitated. It had been days since she let herself eat anything, knowing the Vice Regent was stuffing her enough as it was. She didn’t want to exacerbate matters. This, though – this wasn’t like the rest of the ship’s supplies. It wasn’t greasy, or salty, sugary or fat laced – it was fruit. Wholesome, natural, healthy, even if she had no idea what kind of exotic thing was between her fingers.
If she weren’t feeling quite so warmed over from inside Veronica might have thought twice about plucking the little morsel and eating it, but she had denied herself so much fighting this. Mid-thought, she felt the collar tingle again, felt a fresh fullness in her middle. Ragged as she felt, reason and care went out the window as Veronica tucked the fruit between her lips and bit down.
There was a burst of liquid in her mouth, a warm and rich tart that reminded her of a perfect strawberry with the texture of a blueberry but the size of a plum – and no pit. It was a modest mouthful, and the only clear pleasure she could recall experiencing in days. It was, in the strangest of places to find it, a little taste of life before her parents had sold her.
Veronica only felt guilty for a few moments, just long enough to get out of Dawn’s quarters and back into the hall where the slowly spreading puddle of soapy water was moving along. It may have been the sight of that, the cleanup to do, the utter futility of it, that set her mind spinning. It may have been the sensation of another entire meal worth of food entering her body and being rapidly digested and disseminated to thicken her more fully than she already was. Likely it was somewhere between those things, the alcohol she was processing for the Vice Regent, and that curiously floaty sensation in the back of her head she’d been noticing for the last few seconds that contributed to her ducking back in to wrap dark scaled fingers around that flight journal and begin marching back down the hallway.
It wasn’t a decision that happened all at once, more one that crept a bit closer as Veronica got nearer the exit of the ship. In her head she was still having the same arguments, risk versus likely or unlikely reward, but it seemed like every step she took a thicker layer of ‘fuck it’ draped itself over the whole ordeal.
Running was much harder than it should’ve been, her body was so heavy already and her feet hit the ground like stampeding cattle, but she wanted to do it. Just like she wanted to grab the half-eaten box of pastries outside Garth’s door on her way past, wanted to taste something and actually at least eat the things making her this fat if there was no way around it. Most of all, though, she wanted to spoil the Vice Regent’s fun.
Veronica rushed out of the ship at that, face full of cupcake, half growling as she stomped out to find an unsecured communications hub. Every step she took she reminded herself this was probably a bad idea, and might conceivably veer into catastrophically bad, but her thoughts just couldn’t latch onto the warnings. All she could remember was the burn in her muscles, the rich blend of flavors in that fruit, and the weeks of fear, disgust, and injustice she’d suffered.
Yeah, it was probably going to cause trouble that she did this; but screw it. It was about time someone else had to deal with some hardships to make her day easier instead of the other way around.
