Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

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Netrial
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Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sun Sep 23, 2018 9:39 pm

A roar of water- a spray of cold. Surrounded by darkness, the chill seeping into her bones, to her center once more. Soon enough, everything would be still- Silent.

Miranda sat upright, a deep gasp for breath. Looking about her room, her gaze lingered on the lit candles, with drips and cooled puddles of melted wax beneath. No longer needed, but she kept them lit from habit. Finally tossing aside the sheets, she strode to her bath- always kept full of fresh clean water, but in this season was almost frigid. She lingered in the water, gaze resting upon her reflection idly as she thought over the earlier tenday.

The terror of losing control, the state of weakness that she was found in after- and yet, the benefits made. Even a weakness made into a strength. The words, and sentiments traded- and yes. She smiled, pleased. The passion shared. That- That made up for the terror earlier. Perhaps she would be rewarded- praised once more.

Standing, she dried herself off, and after casting a lingering, admiring look at herself, dressed in the loose silken clothing she favored outside of nudity for sleep. She would sleep in the kitchen, for the rest of the night.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Mon Sep 24, 2018 7:37 pm

When she came to, the clothes about her form weighed her down- The only way she could tell she was wearing clothes, really. Everything else was numb, except for breathing. Breathing hurt. Screaming. Howling. It was all she could hear. She surrendered to the persistent noise.

Miranda woke up to the plastered ceiling above her old bed, in a room once considered lavish. Actually- it still was. It was better appointed then many of the other rooms seen in Cordor. But it was cramped, and not suited for the woman she was becoming. She pulled off the covers, and considered her furnishings. The mirror to the tower- the contents of the storage chest to her new home.

Home. A strange word, one that wasn't familiar. It felt empowering, knowing that she had a building that she controlled. But- But. She must remember. This too can be taken, if not careful.

Dismissing her thoughts, the woman dressed, and went about her day.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Tue Sep 25, 2018 6:18 pm

Crackle. A quiet snap. The smell of wood smoke. When she opened her eyes, the dancing shadows of firelight greeted her. Through the dim lighting, she could see bundles of herbs on the rafters. They hung like dead men, perfectly still. Looking away, she sought out other details, only for pain to lance through her body. She moaned- and from a shadowed corner, something shifted. Stood. "Took you long enough."

Miranda woke atop her unsteady perch. Feeling the rumbling of his snores beneath her was almost a lullaby in it's self. She smiled, adjusting herself so that it was less likely he'd turn over, and crush her beneath him, then lay her head down again. But not to sleep.

Oghma give me words. Words that I can put to paper, and show the city. She waited a moment, for that flash; the brilliance of a idea popping to her head. But nothing came. It would seem she would have to do this the hard way- taking other's people's work, and using it as a template for her own. Things went faster, when she felt inspired. But for now- The harp lesson, for later. She still needed to go about the other tasks set her as well. At least the items for the extravaganza were now coming. Though she still needed to convince him.

She glanced down at the man beneath her once more. She still needed to know his reaction after looking into it. It was a good measure of people, of their desires. It usually confirmed her feelings- but sometimes those were off. Her eyes flickered in the light. She still had the feeling she should've said no- but it was past the time for regrets, and she could still watch him later. There were bigger things to worry about.

With a sigh, she pushed herself up- something he barely noticed, her being so light. She kissed his cheek, and went to her room, washing, then getting dressed for the long day ahead of her.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Wed Sep 26, 2018 6:47 pm

The child lay outside on a sun-warmed rock, recalling the words spoken to her. "Some god must have wanted you alive. No broken bones, no injuries beyond that beating you took. Or you've some fool's luck, to survive that storm. Either way, you're stuck here girl." The old woman was right. It wasn't like she had any way to return. Nor did she want to. The pain of betrayal died when she sunk deep into the water- but it's lesson would always remain.

Miranda opened her eyes. Sleep would not accept her, as tired as she was. There was a duet of snores outside her door. Her lips twitched. At least the house wouldn't be silent at night. She adjusted herself to gaze up at the ceiling, as she begun to ruminate.

Elves. They were so strange. Friendly one day, and then the next, entirely different. Perhaps it shouldn't be unexpected, as they were supposedly related to fey. Distantly, but perhaps the capriciousness bred through. She tsked, and moved face to the mirrors. And then there was that matter of the missing money. It was frustrating. How did the midnight mouser intend to use it to help the people of the city? She couldn't understand. It wasn't like they were going about, throwing gold in streets.

Again she shifted, staring up. And then there was the stone. And Sappo. Where was Sappo?

Too many thoughts. They were cluttering her head, and at this rate, she wouldn't get sleep. Miranda reached for her bag, and found what she was looking for packed away in a pouch. It was lovely, and would help her focus in it's infinity. She held it to her eyes. It was easy to stare into the facets, losing track of time. Finally summoning the will to tear her eyes away, she smiled, and stashed it safely away.

There she would dream sweetly in her bed until the sun rose.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Tue Oct 02, 2018 1:01 am

It was the child's turn to sit and watch the woman work around her in a circle. The pair had come to a sort of truce without words. The woman would point at the firewood, or a bucket, or the kettle. She would nod, complete the chore, then head back to watch the woman from an out of the way spot. They spent days with a rare word between them. This day was different. There was a hum to the air that made her skin tingle. The woman had ground more herbs, adding colorful powders that looked expensive. After forming a circle about her with the components, the woman began to chant. The girl could feel the humming in her bones now. With the last raw word torn out of the woman's mouth, there was a flash of light- and the child felt something pass through her.

Miranda sat, staring at the jewel in front of her eyes. It had been a long month.

The whirlwind that a simple harp lesson had lead to a conflict of emotions in so many ways. It was a pleasant diversion- but it was too easy to spend time with her. She was forgetting her other duties, and tasks. One- two- other commitments sprung to mind.

There was a bitter taste, of not being able to change the fate of her acquaintance, but she didn't have the authority. The best she could do was to remain a friend- if she was even remaining on the island. Considering the letter left, she might be returning to the mainland. She would be missed.

And then there was that man. She was sitting in his chambers, even now. She was just about to accept his offer; and then he changed. This new person was not the same as the old. The old seemed to understand her- This one might not. Once more she felt uncomfortable in his presence. It might've have hurt a more caring woman. She was already expecting it.

That was her life now. Take and give. At the least, she could try making it a congenial experience.

Miranda tucked away the focus, and strode up stairs to a portal- there was still plenty of work to be done.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Wed Oct 03, 2018 5:31 pm

The old woman began to ask her questions; each more personal then the last. She fought the compulsion as each answer left her, the sentences complete in their truthfulness. The interrogation continued until the woman grew tired. The girl began to shiver in the circle like a leaf in a autumn breeze from the exhaustion and magic. "You've definitely some luck. Or a god on your side. Either way, child. You can live with me until it's your time to go." The harsh voice was quieter. The closest she had heard to sympathy. She immediately hated it, hated the crone for the forced answers. The next query spoken shook her, knocking her off balance. "Would you like to forget? "

Miranda woke suddenly- feeling a arm about her waist, she remained still. The excitement, anxiety, and nervous energy from the tenday just passed had yet to leave her completely. She smiled recalling the faces, and those who had come. It was pleasing to see some elves and an official from Myon. Some strangers as well. They should've made more costumes, but hindsight, and all. The food and decorations were well received. And the baths - She chuckled softly. The baths, while not a success, were a unexpected delight. Indeed, she should throw men out more often. Her face darkened briefly. And then there was the shark. She would have to be careful with that one. At least he was pleased with her. She wondered what reward she could claim without going over boundaries.

Miranda glanced to the bath thoughtfully. Was it really so hard to tell what she felt? That people needed to push past the political answers to reach her emotions? It didn't bother her that she was beginning to feel less. As long as she kept herself under control, and useful.

She shifted to face her chosen partner for the night, and kissed their forehead. Perhaps they'd wake up happy with the memory of laying beside her. For now- Sleep called once again.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sat Oct 06, 2018 4:17 pm

"Would you like to forget?" The words echoed through her mind as the compulsion relaxed enough to allow thought. The old woman stared while waiting for the response. Forget her past? This ordeal? The child wondered. "No." her answer given, she returned the stare with a firm look. "No?" The woman echoed, surprised. After a moment, she smiled- showing missing, and rotting teeth. "Hold to that resolve, girl. It'll serve you well."

Miranda awoke to a duet of snores echoing in the kitchen. Her lips twitched violently as she contained her laughter. Peering at the faces, they both seemed more restful then usual. She stood to add coal to the banked kitchen fire, and proceeded to tend the embers as she thought over the tenday's events.

The first face she met. The unique attitude and now skittish behavior, when he didn’t have a goal. Something had changed, but she wasn't certain of what.

The returned one. He was friendly, but the cultural differences were. A pause, as she considered. Interesting. It was if he longed for the release of emotion, behind the facade. To describe him, he would be a clam. It would be an engaging puzzle to make him give up the treasure inside, without breaking him open.

The knight in armor. Her lips twitched again. She had thought he had a darker side with how well he fit in with her writ companions. He would need to be re-evaluated. Some part of her resisted the idea of going to him. But why? What warning was she getting?

Her enchantress. She did not realize how she lighted up others, how they warmed to her with ease. There would be some pain when she left to be with her chosen partner. It wouldn't be herself, with the determination to never create a family.

It was a relief that most of her lovers did not love her. There would be less pain when she died. Or they died.

The fire well tended and the kitchen warmed by the fueled embers, Miranda once more draped herself over the the man. The rumbling of his snores lulling her to slumber.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Wed Oct 24, 2018 10:05 pm

They were in a small village with shacks similar to the old woman's. It looked like a fishing settlement. When the girl let down her hood, the glances started. Parents murmured to children that lofted their hands to point, lowering their hands firmly. "Why do they stare?" She quietly asked the old woman, who cackled. "It's because your hair paints you as fey-touched." She paused "All the better for me, them thinking I've a fey-touched assistant. Gives a sense of prestige. It's important, people's perceptions." The child nodded then followed silently for the rest of the trip. Stares and murmurs followed her all the while, until they were out of sight on the water.

Miranda sat and listened quietly to the others chatter. If she was going to have them accept her, she'd better socialize, though they felt foreign to her.

Seeing the couple curled together didn't hurt; it was enough inspiration that she could force out a poem for herself. She started from the easiest- though the whole process seemed to drag. Even with the interruptions, she felt herself slowly relaxing and realizing she was probably making the other two uncomfortable after the other elf left.

So much had happened that she wouldn't let herself think about. One verse, and then two- Slipping words in-between, until a whole page was filled.

When she finished, she found the others gone, having lost track of them in her focus. The verses were tucked away in her notebook among slips of parchment months ago worn to dust. The only things that kept them alive were the memories in her head.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sat Oct 27, 2018 7:29 pm

They had not made it back to the shack before a storm began to brew. "You might have a god watching over you, but I don't!" The woman grumbled, so the pair rowed back to the nearest village they passed. Woman and child took shelter in the home of one of the friendlier folk with several neighbors who had come to hear a minstrel perform. His songs and news payment for the storm's shelter, while the old woman offered a bundle of herbs to the wife of the host. Rain pounded down, the chatter and noise pressed in on the girl's ears, who kept her head in the hood with no desire to be noticed. The troubadour approached their table, the small figure having caught his attention regardless. After exchanging pleasantries, he asked "What's wrong with the little one?" The crone responded with her usual curtness. "Cold." The man gave a understanding nod. "Wait here." The child wondered idly where else they'd go. She watched him flow through the crowd like a fish in water. Upon reaching the hostess he murmured, and winked flirtatiously as he accepted two wooden mugs. Once returned, he offered the first to the beldam who accepted with a blackened smile, then kneeled down in front of the child, and offered the mug to her hands. She lifted her head to meet his eyes with her own. He paused at the honey hazel eyes and the tendrils of copper hair on her face. "Pretty." He murmured, then gently took her hands and wrapped it about the receptacle. He stood and nodded to the both, before making his way back to the hearth. The child hesitated, then sipped the lightly steaming liquid. Sweet but tart. A aftertaste that warmed but also lightly burned, as it went down her throat and settled in her stomach. Pretty, he said- And from the first time that she sunk into the water, she felt warm inside.

Miranda entered her room, and pulled off her helm. Mechanically removed the chain shirt, and it's matching jacket, then the armor plates strapped to her thighs.

She kept hearing music in the back of her head. A ancient foreign song- that chilled her but left a promise of peace. The song was not peaceful. It invaded her unfocused moments, distracted her with melodies that made her shadow flicker in ecstasy and left herself conflicted.

Keeping herself busy, focusing on others was barely helping. The last time she felt peace, when she was by herself- She considered. The poems. Perhaps another set. But a different theme. It would stop her from hearing those whispers in her head. She never should've learned that summoning book, but what was done, was done.

Pulling out a sheet of parchment, she began to scribe, this time in dark blue ink. The words flowed easier; perhaps because she felt desperate to escape her feelings, her thoughts, and those whispers. After she finished, she lay down on her bed- staring up at the ceiling until she fell asleep.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Fri Nov 16, 2018 1:44 am

She felt light-headed, relaxing into the warmth that the house held. The strong drink gave her a fire in her gut and heart. Soon notes rose from the fireplace, the friendly man catching everyone's attention with the tune of a reel. Some of the crowd began to dance to the lively music as he sang "Far am bi mi fhìn is ann a bhios mo dhòchas...". Those who didn't join in the dancing would either clap or sing, creating a rowdy chorus that filled the air. It was under the cover of the noise that the child felt a urge- A feeling to join in. She stumbled over the foreign tongue, slurring in parts. The notes flowed easily from her, silvery and light. "Far am bi mi fhìn bidh mo dhòchas ann" She finished with the last line perfectly. The beldam glanced sharply towards the child and watched her with a calculating gaze.

He's gone. They're gone. By death or by boat, it didn't matter- Miranda shuddered as she stared out over the icy water, her breath misting in the air. She thought she lost another. Melody grew in her head, pressing, urging for release. Every compliment given was just another reminder of those gone. He knew this would happen. The push to his path, to follow the melody. Or was he trying to give her a push to grow? She couldn't figure it out. There was not enough work in the world to numb her thoughts. A glance in the amulet would show their faces. The poems would be salt in her wound. She inhaled sharply, the bitterly cold night air stabbing her lungs, then sighed. Turned as she heard her name yelled. Realizing she was still cloaked in shadows, she released them, then shouted back. Standing and stepping away from the edge of the cliff where she sat.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Wed Dec 12, 2018 2:23 am

Morning came too early with a rooster crowing at the false dawn before sunrise. The child sat up quickly from reflex then flushed when she realized where she was. Occasionally rubbing the sleep from her face, she quickly and neatly folded the blankets the hostess provided. Towards the end of her self-imposed chore, the crone came in with a flute and a small book. In answer to the silent question set forth by the girl's curious gaze, the old woman spoke "Later. For you." She continued in her callous manner. "Don't go looking, he's already left. Wouldn't bring you with him even if you asked." Liver spotted hands took the blankets and set them on the table with a small pouch. They left, firmly shutting the door and passed by the hostess as she tended her chickens. When they were on the water, the bedlam spoke once more. "No more staring at me. You'll be learning to read and write from that book. When you can't focus, you'll be playing the flute." "I know how to read and write." Was her meek response. The woman searched her expression, then "Hmph. Of course you do. You'll still be learning from that book." The tone left no misconceptions on the matter. In a few more hours they were back at the shack.

Stepping through the portal into the cool air almost made Miranda cry out in relief. The pressing melody settling to a soothing lullaby, wrapping around the figure delicately. The light was gentle on her eyes, the mists a caress against skin. A welcome back.

I must be a masochist. The minstrel pressed on, steps silent against the damp cobbles and shadows cloaking her from sight of the natives- even in her colorful clothing. She paused at door that would take her to warmth, glancing about. A sudden reluctance to step into the bustle that likely awaited filled her. Instead, she stepped into the next door over.

So much to do. Ignoring her own words, she shielded herself from scrying and gathered the shadows about her, before finally taking out some sheets of parchment, ink, and a quill. She stared at them blankly.

After several long moments, her hand lofted and she began to draw with amateur skill. On the left side was the back of a man silhouetted. A stone elemental clobbering shadowed wolves seemed to be the source of dim illumination in a dark wooded area, with a blurred lines giving everything a sense of the surreal.

On the right was the back of a fully armored woman in plate, halberd in hand. Presumably rushing through the caves that surrounded her to the fire giants, elementals, and a iron golem in the distance. Her cloak is flapping, likely with magically enhanced speed. The halberd clearly ready to be the first attack in the engagement.

Gazing at the two, Miranda made no attempt to merge the two backgrounds, instead creating a border of black ink down the center. After it was dry, she tucked it away into her notebook and left the small room that now felt like it was pressing on her. Opening, and entering through the doorway to her usual life.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sat Feb 09, 2019 8:41 pm

She sat upright, legs crossed with a book open in her lap. While written simply, it was a drier then even the magical texts she had studied from once upon a time. However, the child continued to recite: "In addition to damage caused by drastic humidity changes, instruments are also susceptible to damage caused by rapid fluctuations in temperature." A pause to sip from the flask at the side, then continued, "While in colder climates it is often impossible to avoid subjecting an instrument to low temperatures, it is important to make certain that the rate of temperature change is as slow as possible." The beldam listened as she worked over her table. After a few more minutes of listening, "Stop." then nodded towards the door. The girl stood carefully, stretching her limbs and putting the book away in it's designated spot before taking the flute and heading outside. Brief awkward notes came in before it colligated into a wandering, wistful melody with neither rhythm or purpose.

Yelling. Fires. Whispers. Rage. Jealousy. Greed. Flashes of emotions and memories flashed through the sleep of Miranda, layer upon layer of shadows forming on her as she lay alone. Form becoming incorporeal until she couldn't be seen in the dimly lit room except by the most eagle-eyed. The shadows in corners seems to fluctuate with every passing moment until a satisfied replica of her voice spoke in her mind. "It is finished." Eyelids opened, revealing the darkened irises within. The whispers- Gone. Only the melody remained. She stood, slipping from the covers and observed the changes that came over her skin. Lovely. She went to the mirror to examine her reflection. With a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she went back to dress. There was work to do.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Thu Mar 14, 2019 2:57 am

She felt like she was afire. Skin dry, bones ached. Her head throbbed with the beat of her too loud heart. Parched lips opened, and blessed liquid was spooned within. First a thin fishy broth, then the bitter taste of willow. She swallowed it all, then slipped into a fitful sleep as a old, rough voice sang quietly. "..Ar hyd y nos.."

Miranda sat bolt upright, a hand clenching the silks over her heart. Releasing the shirt, she stared at her hand as her breathing calmed. The dark marks looked like blood momentarily, then formed into their usual black swirling pattern. With a shudder, she looked away. I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. I... A inhale. ...Stink. The woman got up with a wrinkle of her nose and drew a bath in the half-barrel that served for the task. Washing away the ripe aroma of sweat she lingered in the water, pulling out a pendant and stared, searching into the depths. With a shake of her head it was tucked away. Silks were soaked, soaped, then rinsed as well, pulled on wet. With a murmured command the embedded gems released flame, drying the clothes and female alike. After setting her hair with her fingers, she laughed softly. I'm lost, and I know it. Ach, well. It won't have been the first time, will it? A smile as she turned to the mirror- That faded as she saw a bald woman look back at her. A blink, and she saw herself. She snorted, then went about her business. Surely there were things to do.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sat Mar 23, 2019 1:24 am

Crummy eyes opened once more to gently swaying herbs hanging from the rafters. The murmur of the tides and the faint creaks from the shack as it settled in for the night was it's own sort of lullaby. Pushing herself up quietly, she found the bedlam asleep in her chair. The chair was drawn up to the foot of the cot and the old woman slept fitfully. Empty bowls and mugs within reach attested to the woman's diligence as a bedside nurse. After taking in the scene, the adolescent laid back down and went back to sleep.

Miranda awakened to the face of her long-time friend. A surge of relief filled her as she gazed on them resting. Someone who accepted her for herself, good and bad. Would remain by her even if one might eventually outweigh the other. Resisting the urge to peek under the covers, she got up and pulled on her boots and gloves, covering the marks that were growing, darkening with time. People were a superstitious lot, that hadn't changed from the Moonshaes. They just had different sort of superstitions. With a light finger combing of her hair, she reviewed the things that needed to happen this tenday. Only one, though there was certainly enough to make sure there was never a dull moment. She then left, heading out to begin the day's work.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sat Aug 24, 2019 11:45 pm

Shadows swirled unnaturally in the room, around a reclining woman. A whisper resonated "You enjoyed that as much as I did. Mistress should stop denying it to herself." The woman shifted uncomfortably, ending up with a shake of her head as she responded. "No, no. It's too dangerous." "No one cares she's missing. It happens all too often here. What's one more to feed your faithful servant?" "One too many. This-" The shadow interrupted "Was foresight. You knew the risk of what she could become. It was better to remove her while she was weak." A pause, then continued with the sibilant murmurs "She deserved it, lying so. You saved many the trouble of her in the future. A service to the isle." A silence filled the room, not even a rustle from the woman to mark the passing of time. "Let me -" "No!" The woman finally sat up, and the shadows dispersed as she did so. She pulled on a red robe and settled near the brazier that warmed the room for hours. Eventually the sun chased all the darkness from within the room and let the woman fall into a undisturbed rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miranda touched the drawing, the vivid expressions in the macabre drawing making her smile. The artist was a curious fellow, and certainly focused intently on detail. It was exquisite, a reminder of what she could become if allowed. He had a family, one with their own shadows. But certainly not as debase as the one that cast her aside. A momentarily expression of jealously, a emotion that was quickly erased as she stored the drawing away. She saw where that path lead, and her life was not going to end that way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miranda laid down, her head swimming with exhaustion. She never intended to continue the work, but like it was mentioned: She would feel lost without it. Become lost in the past, both mistakes and "Better times". With a shake of her head she casted her mind back to earlier that ten-day where a manic energy filled her veins. Energy that refused to let her focus too far into the future, and certainly not into the past. There was only "now" and "soon". A pity the thrill was fleeting but so tingly. It might even become addicting. Sitting up, she reconsidered sleep, pulling instead a notebook to her. Letting words down in lines like a troupe of men to deliver a gift: A poem for her favorite poet. Once complete, she tucked the scrap of paper away and let sleep claim her with a smile on her face.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Sun Oct 13, 2019 11:50 pm

"Come here." The old woman interrupted the instrumental playing. The woman's hair was liberally salted and the creak of her voice more pronounced for those who knew what to listen for. The child herself had grown from skin and bones to something that looked healthier though she was still more joints then muscle or fat. "Do you know why I've called you today?" After a moment, the copper-head shook. "I will not live forever. You will need to care for yourself when that comes." Per usual, the woman's tone brooked no argument in the matter. "This may be a better life then what you had before, but carelessness may see the rest ruined."

Wrath and fury thrummed in her body, her eyesight so dark she could barely make out the torchlight or the natural light that came from her spear as she destroyed the bookcases in the hallway, chips of wood flying around her as large chunks fell to the floor. When one was rubble she moved to the next till there was a line all along the wall, the contents of the books scrap paper littering even further down the hall.
Betrayed. Again. She knew the risks, thought that she prepared herself for it... But had let down her guard in the last few years. Bile in the back of her throat was choked back and the remains thrown away. What was considered usable was brought to the sawhorse were it was pieced together so cleverly one couldn't tell that the breaks weren't originally intentional. Always rebuilding from shambles. She disliked the necessity having done so often over the years. But every year has it's winter, and so her plans would bloom, grow, falter, and fade as time dictated. Her calloused hand stopped sanding for a moment as she checked the surface. She would need to be more stringent, take less chances. As much as she appreciated their "gratitude" for the home she gave them, it clearly didn't extend beyond the walls of the tavern, which was unacceptable.
Neither greed, gratitude, loyalty... And she hesitated using punishment. That was a delicate tool, one she was unaccustomed to. And a step further down the path she originally denied. "I will not leave you Mistress. I will not abandon you to face your trials alone. I will support you in whatever you decide." A quiet sibilant voice reached her ear, the cadence a almost perfect replica of her own. "Thank you..." She replied softly back, the repaired bookcases looking better then they had in years.

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Re: Memoirs of a Sharessan Bard

Post by Netrial » Mon Mar 29, 2021 11:34 pm

"...hesitated." Her voice echoed back at her from a different mouth
"Promised you anything, and yet..." Black gloved hands gently finger combed through hair, leaving a trace of chill behind with every gesture "... could be swayed away... Doesn't trust me, your most loyal and faithful servant, Mistress... I can taste the disgust. It wounds me."
"Wounds you, how? You know why."

The shadow remained silent as the gestures continued. After several moments passed, it spoke up "Mistress, I have a favor to ask."
"Oh?"
The figure leaned in closer, blurring with the form of the female on the couch. After a few moments of silence, they both nodded and spoke almost in sync "Agreed."

-----------

She walked through the shadows, landscape blurring and rushing past her step by step. After years, she was so close. So much effort could have been saved, but with her request denied, she wouldn't bother to ask again.
She had been failed too many times to rely on another for this. It felt like a dream, almost natural, doing this trip over and over.
She had originally wanted to tell him the good news, have him congratulate her- but she knew the true reason now. It was one man's word against another's, and she wanted to see for herself who lied.
Tracing rumors, all the time blending into bars, and flirting with the locals, illusions wove left and right... All for this.

--------

Woman and shade sat together under a sawhorse. As the shadow spoke, the woman wrote.

Soon, the recitation was done. Ink put away, quill cleaned and stored as inked parchment dried

"Your first poem, congratulations."
"I think you mean our first poem."
"I suppose. Still. To be celebrated."
"How would you like to?"
A moment of silence, then-
"Let's have a duet?"
"As you wish."

The woman pulled out a harp, and began the melody. The union of voices, one soft, warm and low, the other sweet, though eerie began the familiar tune filled the small room.

--------

She stared up at the ceiling, the familiar wave of self disgust and depression filling her.

Why did she fall back into this terrible habit? It was like another addiction, one she didn't need.

Soothing, numbing murmurs in her mind made this tolerable, but she still felt sick. It would pass. It always did. Just sink down further.

She closed her eyes and brought up the memories of the day before. Snuggling closer in the tiny bed, a faint smile upon her lips as she embraced sleep again.

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