Silver.
It flows through my fingers like blood from a fresh wound, slipping away as quickly as it comes to me. Yet another too thin waif, soaked to the skin wandered into my parlor, and shivered by the fire, dripping upon the thick soft carpets. Another cloak out of my closet, a backpack with a few essentials, and a promise I would search my contacts for work for the poor thing, or find some other way to improve her situation.
No sooner had she gone, than still another entered, the carpet still wet from where the previous lingered. My last spare cloak, my favorite, handed over to the girl. She's a friend and caught between her oath and her own right to survive and prosper. I hand her the cloak and offer again to help her any way I can, and she smiles, grateful and humiliated to have to take my handouts. It infuriates me her master has allowed her to exist like this with no concern for her well being.
How often that scene feels the need to constantly repeat itself in my life. Some young, neglected, desperate soul just needing a little help, a warm place out of the storm. A new friend reminded me, that it is indeed hard to succeed in my line of work, when I care more about the girls that find their way into my life, than the silver that keeps passing through it. And so yes, while Darkfall brings silver into my hands, it also brings the urgent need to pass it along to others who struggle just to exist at all.
I am barely keeping afloat, but I MUST juggle those I help with those I owe as long as I can. Hopefully the need will ebb while the flow of silver continues, but I know somehow, it will not, and I will be walking that very thin line for a long time to come.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Ties that Bind
I have noticed of late, how things are flowing faster, when the world itself slows down. I idly recline upon my velvet couch, smiling to the gathered collective, the men with silver, and the women with time and how they mingle and flirt and trade what they have, for what they want.
Darkfall has Seahaven firmly in its grip, and the storms are endless, the seas are churning to foam and the rain is driven into the skin like needles. And yet, here I sit, sipping my wine and smiling pleasantly as life in the city struggles on, and people huddle in homes and taverns while dark things lurk about. For me, business is booming. Yes, there is much silver to be had this time of year, when the weather and the long stormy nights keep them returning to my parlor, time and again.
Recently however, I have noticed something else. First, there has been an influx of men into my life of late. Now, do not get me wrong, one such as I would never complain about fortune and luck such as that, but it is the nature of these males that I find so interesting. How varied and unique they are from each other.
One, brings a desperation and need about him, and a frenzied intensity that is all too familiar to me. Everything about him screams the name of another and yet I feel I might be mad if I think upon it too long. Could it be? What could have happened to bring him to me in this way? I can only wonder as he has once more vanished without explanation.
One, brings a sense of peace, of calm, of wisdom and trust, and I bask in the time and attention he bequeaths me. He reminds me to extend a little kindness to myself once in awhile, and let down my guard, that maybe there is someone out there who can see me past the silk, past the lace, past the title and the lable, and see it all for what it is, barriers between myself and the world. I worry that perhaps this one may have too much influence over me.
One, ahh what he brings is welcome indeed. A sharp mind, a lust for his own goals, and yet a need to flood his senses. I see much upon his shoulders, he hides it well of course, but he bears a great deal of loss about him. I find him a wonderful distraction from the daily pressures and demands, so talented is he at the art of indulgence, he reminds me what it means to have what I do at my fingertips, and how to enjoy it.
One, brings with him a power to be harnessed, and yet I know already, it is a power that I will never truly control. Still, he will prove useful to me I am quite certain. I must however be careful that this one's actions do not come back to bite me in my delicate backside later.
Second, a handful of delightful, intelligent females have found their way into my heart., and visit my parlor often. I often wonder how I have managed to not only find these girls, but be blessed by their friendship, and support. I am happy to assist each one in my own small way to survive and succeed in this harsh world.
One...such a firecracker this girl, slick, smart, beautiful, and so young. She needs temperance, guidance, by one who will not ruin her lovely heart. She has been hurt this child barely a woman, and someone needs to show her a kind hand.
One, is a tempered steel sword in the guise of a woman. Hard and yet yeilding when held in the right hand I think. She has her defenses on high, her heart held at bay. I do hope the dishonorable cad who flits between them does not end up wounding them both.
One, is honor and loyalty and duty, and beneath her iron exterior she is a true friend, and I adore her for it. She truely cares, in her gruff and unpolished way, and I could not ask for more from her. I am grateful for her reassuring presence, and hope she knows how much she means to me.
They flow like the seasons themselves in and out of my life, coloring my existence and painting my experience with their own. I wonder as I sit this night and watch my influence slowly spread and my ties bind, if any of them look upon me and see me as lowly as I view myself.
Darkfall has Seahaven firmly in its grip, and the storms are endless, the seas are churning to foam and the rain is driven into the skin like needles. And yet, here I sit, sipping my wine and smiling pleasantly as life in the city struggles on, and people huddle in homes and taverns while dark things lurk about. For me, business is booming. Yes, there is much silver to be had this time of year, when the weather and the long stormy nights keep them returning to my parlor, time and again.
Recently however, I have noticed something else. First, there has been an influx of men into my life of late. Now, do not get me wrong, one such as I would never complain about fortune and luck such as that, but it is the nature of these males that I find so interesting. How varied and unique they are from each other.
One, brings a desperation and need about him, and a frenzied intensity that is all too familiar to me. Everything about him screams the name of another and yet I feel I might be mad if I think upon it too long. Could it be? What could have happened to bring him to me in this way? I can only wonder as he has once more vanished without explanation.
One, brings a sense of peace, of calm, of wisdom and trust, and I bask in the time and attention he bequeaths me. He reminds me to extend a little kindness to myself once in awhile, and let down my guard, that maybe there is someone out there who can see me past the silk, past the lace, past the title and the lable, and see it all for what it is, barriers between myself and the world. I worry that perhaps this one may have too much influence over me.
One, ahh what he brings is welcome indeed. A sharp mind, a lust for his own goals, and yet a need to flood his senses. I see much upon his shoulders, he hides it well of course, but he bears a great deal of loss about him. I find him a wonderful distraction from the daily pressures and demands, so talented is he at the art of indulgence, he reminds me what it means to have what I do at my fingertips, and how to enjoy it.
One, brings with him a power to be harnessed, and yet I know already, it is a power that I will never truly control. Still, he will prove useful to me I am quite certain. I must however be careful that this one's actions do not come back to bite me in my delicate backside later.
Second, a handful of delightful, intelligent females have found their way into my heart., and visit my parlor often. I often wonder how I have managed to not only find these girls, but be blessed by their friendship, and support. I am happy to assist each one in my own small way to survive and succeed in this harsh world.
One...such a firecracker this girl, slick, smart, beautiful, and so young. She needs temperance, guidance, by one who will not ruin her lovely heart. She has been hurt this child barely a woman, and someone needs to show her a kind hand.
One, is a tempered steel sword in the guise of a woman. Hard and yet yeilding when held in the right hand I think. She has her defenses on high, her heart held at bay. I do hope the dishonorable cad who flits between them does not end up wounding them both.
One, is honor and loyalty and duty, and beneath her iron exterior she is a true friend, and I adore her for it. She truely cares, in her gruff and unpolished way, and I could not ask for more from her. I am grateful for her reassuring presence, and hope she knows how much she means to me.
They flow like the seasons themselves in and out of my life, coloring my existence and painting my experience with their own. I wonder as I sit this night and watch my influence slowly spread and my ties bind, if any of them look upon me and see me as lowly as I view myself.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Pig in a Silk Dress
"Pig in a silk dress"
How those words echo around in my brain when the dawn has come, and the building is quiet as wander past the reassuring presence of the ebony amazon that has staked her claim at the bottom of the staircase. "good night dear, go to bed" I insist, laying a hand upon her shoulder a moment as I pass. She nods, curt and silent and does not fool me for a minute with her stubborn ways. She is tired and I know it, but she would never dream of complaining. As I begin to ascend to the landing on the second floor, she moves off towards the doors, and heads out. I walk the thick, plush carpeting of the hall, a few hushed murmurs of groaned passion lift then fade as my suite door draws ever closer.
The lock clicks and I lean on the door to close it behind me, hanging my head a moment. Gods it was a long night, and my feet are killing me. That is my next objective, removing these implements of torture and enjoy the feeling of my barefeet on the floor. Next..the hairclip and let down the mass of curls that have been trapped and twisted atop my aching skull all night, and running my gloved fingers through the tangles and sigh delightedly with the small relief it brings. The gloves are removed and tossed thoughtlessly to the table in the corner, and only then do I dare sink to the couch.
The room is silent, even the crackle of the fire that was burning so brightly when I left, is quiet, having turned to dull grey, lurking embers in the ash. I hear just beyond notice, the sounds of the market below the window, beyond the heavy dark drapes that blot out the light and sound. I pay it no heed, as my mind wanders in the wondrous stillness of the room, and I consider a moment, rekindling the fire. 'what for?' I ask myself, and it occurs to me how empty this place is now. There is a vacancy here that never existed before him, and as I look around, I fail to see any sign he was ever here. It leaves me feeling unsettled and hollow somehow, and I rise and move to my bedroom, hoping to finish the day quickly with a merciful trip to dreamless oblivion.
Still as I peel off layer after layer of finery, pearls, earrings, and silk, I get closer to the reality of me. I wanted all these things so badly once, and yet now, each one is like a little shackle, that ties me to expectation and conformity. When it is gone, it is just me in my oversized linen shirt as I crawl into my bed, sinking into one comfort I never take for granted. I snuggle deeply into my pillows and schooch down beneath the heavy, down comforter and sigh. As sleep claims me it occurs to me how very ironic it is that even after all this time, the whore sleeps alone.
How those words echo around in my brain when the dawn has come, and the building is quiet as wander past the reassuring presence of the ebony amazon that has staked her claim at the bottom of the staircase. "good night dear, go to bed" I insist, laying a hand upon her shoulder a moment as I pass. She nods, curt and silent and does not fool me for a minute with her stubborn ways. She is tired and I know it, but she would never dream of complaining. As I begin to ascend to the landing on the second floor, she moves off towards the doors, and heads out. I walk the thick, plush carpeting of the hall, a few hushed murmurs of groaned passion lift then fade as my suite door draws ever closer.
The lock clicks and I lean on the door to close it behind me, hanging my head a moment. Gods it was a long night, and my feet are killing me. That is my next objective, removing these implements of torture and enjoy the feeling of my barefeet on the floor. Next..the hairclip and let down the mass of curls that have been trapped and twisted atop my aching skull all night, and running my gloved fingers through the tangles and sigh delightedly with the small relief it brings. The gloves are removed and tossed thoughtlessly to the table in the corner, and only then do I dare sink to the couch.
The room is silent, even the crackle of the fire that was burning so brightly when I left, is quiet, having turned to dull grey, lurking embers in the ash. I hear just beyond notice, the sounds of the market below the window, beyond the heavy dark drapes that blot out the light and sound. I pay it no heed, as my mind wanders in the wondrous stillness of the room, and I consider a moment, rekindling the fire. 'what for?' I ask myself, and it occurs to me how empty this place is now. There is a vacancy here that never existed before him, and as I look around, I fail to see any sign he was ever here. It leaves me feeling unsettled and hollow somehow, and I rise and move to my bedroom, hoping to finish the day quickly with a merciful trip to dreamless oblivion.
Still as I peel off layer after layer of finery, pearls, earrings, and silk, I get closer to the reality of me. I wanted all these things so badly once, and yet now, each one is like a little shackle, that ties me to expectation and conformity. When it is gone, it is just me in my oversized linen shirt as I crawl into my bed, sinking into one comfort I never take for granted. I snuggle deeply into my pillows and schooch down beneath the heavy, down comforter and sigh. As sleep claims me it occurs to me how very ironic it is that even after all this time, the whore sleeps alone.
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