In The Name of Art: Sefirah & Aristide

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

It had been some time since I painted. It had been some time since I had done anything, really. Assignations were slow coming, I was not the best in my house, and I came recommended, but it seemed that there were others far better than I was. How would they know, anyways? If they never tasted the fruit from the vine, they could never know how sweet it is.

I sighed heavilly as I walked down from Mont Nuit heading for Night's Doorstep. It was early evening, the sky held a light dusky hew, threatening night fall, though not necessarily right this minute. There would be a few hours yet to pass before the stars would twinkle in the pitch sky.

I sighed again, kicking a small rock with the toe of my slippered foot, looking to the ground but focussing on naught. My yellow dress swirled around my ankles, a light fabric, thin but a little weighted so the wind would not take it away and me with it. The bodice was tight to my torso, the dress laced in the back with a ribbon that shimmered blue, green and purple, like my eyes. The dress tied around the back of my neck and I had put my hair up into a black caul, my waves straining against the confinement, ready to burst free at any moment. It was messily done, but that was part of my allure, or so I had been told. My lashes were darkened with coal, and no doubt my eyes were a terribly drab periwinkle colour to match my mood. They were the most interesting colour when I was merry in mood, blue and purple, sparkling like the sea in the evening.

I lifted my head, looking around me, finally focussing my eyes on the buildings as I passed them. I hadn't even realised that I had walked this time in silence, in self-pitying thought and had already entered Night's Doorstep.

I wasn't sure why I was here.... what I wanted to find. Sometimes I ventured to Night's Doorstep alone at night to seek some sort of adventure, and the worst that would befall me would be a drunk man wishing to look up my skirts for free, to which I would decline. It gave me a thrill, albeit a small one, and gave me a feeling of... well... that I was better than I felt I was.

I stopped in front of the Cockeral, shaking myself mildly, my hands coming up to slap my cheeks, waking myself out of my stupor. Mayhap I could find a subject to paint. After that night with Pieter - and I smiled finally for once this day - I had been itching at finishing my marque, at painting things that could sell, subjects that would catch the eyes of potential buyers, something that would please Pieter. I laughed then.

To think, I wished the approval of a man. Me? And another sigh following that thought.

Taking a deep breath, I continued on in the silence of the evening.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

The twins smiled up at me as they caressed my body, long sinuious limbs draped over me like a blanket. Watching them was like seeing two mirror images. At first I found it disconcerting, but I had quickly grown to adore the sight.

"Aristide," the one on the left cooed, lips brushing against my ear. "My sister and I would love to finance your work."

I had forgotten their names. They didn't seem to mind.

"Of course," Righty said, her breath warm against my skin. "Anything you wish." And she threw her leg over my waist, engulfing my length with one swift movement. My hips jumped to meet her, even as Lefty moved to kiss me, leaving a wet trail across my face...

I sat up with a gasp and immediately groaned in pain. I instantly recognized three things: I felt like well-kneaded dough, I was stark naked, and I was still drunk. Only one of these things was positive.

Bravely I looked down at myself and winced. Bruises were starting to form all over my body. I touched my eye gingerly to feel an impressive swelling. I tried to stand, but even the thought of motion made me feel nauseous.

It would be exceedingly helpful, I mused, if I could remember how I got there. Why I had been beaten within an inch of my life. And where, in the name of Elua, my flask was. I groaned even louder and let my head fall against the cobblestones, trying to think of what I should do.

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

I thought I had been lost in thought, but not lost enough to not hear some shuffling and painful groaning coming from an alleyway I was just about to pass completely. Stepping backwards a few paces, I glared down the dark walkway, whatever lay within was shrowded by the evening and the shadows of the buildings that stood on either side. I furrowed my brows, holding my skirts so as not to allow them to drag against the dirty cobblestone as I moved one step, then another, into the alleyway. I cleared my throat, sighting the soft glow of pale flesh in glimpses as I turned my head this way and that to discern if there was a body.

"Um..." I murmured, my voice small, "umm... hello? Is anyone there?" I queried, feeling a bit like an idiot as I moved another step forward, gingerly and cautious, ready to spring in the opposite direction should anything bring me to flee.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

A voice, ah, like that of an angel...or one of the twins. I pondered sitting up but that felt quite out of the question at the moment. I must have been more drunk than usual, and that was saying quite a lot. Instead I moaned again, a little bit louder, and opened my eyes.

My blurry vision revealed a goddess. It had to be, none other would take pity on a poor soul like me. Her hair was cruelly confined in a caul, but the rest of her, Elua, was beauty personified and unfettered. I blinked a few times to make sure I was not still dreaming.

"Is that Naamah I see before me?" I said, rising up on my elbows. "No, no, Naamah would never lower herself for me. It must be gorgeous Eisheth, come to rescue her fallen son from his wicked and wanton ways." The presence of such a kind and gentle angel was enough to give me strength. Slowly, achingly, I pulled myself to a kneeling position, almost touching my face to the ground in my effort to appear pious. In truth I hadn't been to a temple in ages. It was a struggle not to vomit the entire contents of my stomach onto the ground. Eisheth was truly standing in front of me.

Rising a little, I covered myself with one hand and reached out with the other, beseeching the angel for help. "My lady Eisheth, I know I have done wrong, but please grant me your favor today. I am so drunk I cannot see straight. I have been harmed, and I do not know why. And my prized flask, passed down from generation to generation, has been taken from me. Can you aid me, my lady?"

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

I stepped closer to find a ... well... a man... perhaps? Stark naked, his face bruised and battered, to match the rest of his unclad form, and I raised an eyebrow, wondering if I should turn away out of propriety or stare, though I did not have much choice in the matter as he knelt before me, awkwardly and in obvious pain, reaking of sweat and dirt and liquor. A drunk it seemed, or at least someone who had let himself get carried away, and apparently cause some sort of altercation that resulted in him being naked and pounded to a pulp in an alleyway. He must have had a run in with some pretty terrible thugs, or maybe his mouth ran on far too much for someone's liking.

I refrained from plugging my nose, from squeezing that airway shut with my fingers, and looked down on him with a soft smile, remembering the kindness and tribulations of Naamah, the one I served. His words though, as unbelievable as they were, nearly made me laugh, which would have been rather the opposite for the pious godly beings he mistook me for. First Naamah, then Eisheth, apparently a goddess he knew well, hailing from Eisande if his words proved true.

"Poor soul," I murmured, leaning down and patting his matted hair. I grimaced silently, my hand, leaving his head, sticky and a little dirty. "What has happened to you to leave you in such a state?" I queried, looking around and wondering if mayhap his clothes were around somewhere, down the alleyway or in a garbage can left to stew with the rest of the reaking pile of refuse.

"Are you able to stand, sir?" I queried, worrying my brows slightly. "I am no deity, just a servant of the goddess of physical love. Mayhap I could help you if you will tell me how?"

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

Her touch was so gentle, I sighed happily, smiling up at her, though I did feel a bit cross at her words. "No need to clothe yourself in earthly trappings, my lady. Though I am sore afraid at your nearness, rest assured that I will not do anything to harm you." I chuckled at my words. I could not harm a fly, let alone an angel like the one that stood before me.

With slow deliberation I pulled myself to a standing position, covering myself again with one hand. I felt a blush spread across my cheeks, both sets, at revealing my nakedness to the goddess Eisheth, though I quickly realized that she probably had seen worse. "Sadly to say, my lady, I cannot remember what befell me. I would venture to say that it is a combination of the alcohol in my body and the beating I have endured that have put me into such an unfortunate situation." I closed my eyes, desperately trying to remember. "I think I was at a bar, not far from here..." I took a few tentative steps. "Maybe if I go there, at the least I can find my clothes." Carefully I bent at the waist. "My name is Aristide de Crier, madam." I glanced at her, my vision slowly becoming more clear. "Are you coming, my lady? Or do you have more pressing concerns?"

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

It seemed he still thought me to be a deity, and I laughed softly, shaking my head as I did, the few curls I left loose to frame my face dancing along my jaw and cheeks. He rose unsteadilly, cupping his manhood, a gesture I thanked him for silently, showing he had no lecherous thoughts about him with regards to me. Mayhap it was better to let him think me a goddess than aught else, just in case. I let my eyes wander over him. He was not a bad looking man, under the grime and bruises. He would probably clean up rather well.

When he moved, though, to make for whatever bar it was he had been in, I pressed my palm lightly against his shoulder.

"I do not think it would serve you well, my lord, to go out into the street proper in your... present state. Mayhap I could find you something that might serve to cover you adequately before we go in search of your own clothing?" and no doubt more trouble I thought to myself as I stepped before him.

"I am not really on my way anywhere in specific, and mayhap if I can plead to one of the tenants in the area we could secure you a warm bath as well?" I asked, hoping his mind was straight enuogh to see the logic in my words. Not only would he look a fool naked in the streets and on my arm no less, which I was sure would not go over well if word made it back to my Dowayne, but he could end up in a great deal of trouble with the law, exposing himself thusly.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

"Please, call me Aristide," I said, laughing, though I winced when she touched my shoulder. My whole body ached. "My 'present state' is such that titles have no meaning."

Though I wanted to go and find out what happened immediately, I could understand her concerns, and I nodded my assent. "You speak truth, my lady." Quickly I searched around and found a pair of pants on the ground. I wasn't sure if they were mine or not, but that seemed to be the least of my worries. I turned away as I put them on. "Do you know of such a place nearby? Maybe a tavern? Your help is greatly appreciated."

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

I smiled as it seemed my words had sunk in and there appeared to be a semblage of logical thinking in his actions. He turned from me and sighted a pair of pants, pulling them on, not caring who they had belonged to or why they were lying in an alleyway to begin with. Then again, I would have done the same given his options.

When he turned to face me it was better. Shirtlessness was far more tolerable than being entirely naked and I smiled, feeling a little less harried at his situation, this buying us more time and less embarassment.

"There are taverns and inns aplenty, and some that might help us without much bargaining," I said, thinking now as I went through a mental list of the establishments closest to where we were. "Mayhap someone at the Cockeral might be able to lend us some aid," I reflected out loud, praying that it was not there that he had caused trouble. If it was it would no doubt end with us being swiftly ousted from the establishment. "If they have nowhere ofr you to clean up they might provide youwith some water and a bucket and some soap to freshen up a bit," I said, leveling my gaze on his. It was then that I noticed his blue eyes, crystalline, though a little glazed from his innubriation, and the fine cheekbones that lay under the blood, dirt and bruises that littered his visage.

"And maybe then you can try to remember what it was that happened to you, Aristide," I said, dispensing with formalities as he had requested.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

Her smile broke through my blurry vision like the sun on a cloudy day. She was absolutely stunning, and it was all I could do not to stare open-mouthed at her visage.

"The Cockeral would be an excellent place. Mainly because I have never been there before." I took a step towards her and stumbled a bit, though I quickly righted myself. "At least, not today. I seem to remember a pretty barkeep there, she winked at me the last time...Though her beauty pales in comparison to yours."

I looked at her closely then, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I have been speaking like a man possessed, haven't I?" I stepped closer again, my footfalls a bit more steady, as I looked down at her. My fingers itched to touch her, though I doubted she would react favorably to that. "You're no angel," I said softly, looking into her eyes. "The angels are too far above to care about one like me. You said you were a servant of the goddess of physical love...but I'd bet Naamah herself is jealous of you."

I turned away then, running a hand through my hair. Why was it so sticky? I looked at my hand, saw blood, and groaned. "Would that we had met under different circumstances," I sighed. "Let's find this Cockeral. I'll press my luck to see if they will help me."

[Sefirah nó Jasmine]

Ah good, I thought to myself when he mentioned he had not been there. I had been, many times, on nights like this when I went seeking a bit of danger or a bit of careless fun, and I hoped that that would pull some weight in credulity to my plea. He took a step towards me, faltering a bit, then another, stronger, and as he drew himself up, I saw tha the was tall, well built though not terribly muscular. He was not lanky like one might think a new born foal or an adolescent boy, and his muscles were more wirey, toned as opposed to bulky. He had narrow shoulders, though wider than mine regardless, and stood tall above my small frame. It semed that with each step that brought him closer his mind cleared just a bit more as he finally saw me for what I was, other than some liquor and pain induced vision of godliness, just a simple woman bound to the Night Court. His compliments, though, did not fall on deaf ears, and I blushed softly that even a man in his state could stop to appreciate what he viewed as beauty. I smiled, brushing the tendrils away from my face with my clean hand, which I looked down to see that the sticky substance on my other hand was blood, as he had noticed on his hand after he had done the same in touching the hair on his head.

I grimaced inwardly and made a note not to wipe my hands on my dress.

I brought my unsmeared hand up to dust off some loose dirt from his chest and stomach, doing so thoughtlessly, without any regard to whether it would be viewed as solicitous behaviour.

"The Cockeral is not far from here, really just around the corner. We should arrived unscathed I should think," I said, donning a soft smile as my eyes roved quickly over him once more. "And no worries as to circumstances," I said with a chuckle and a wink, "the night is young, yet, for you to redeem yourself." I offered my arm to him in case he needed the added help to get his feet righted. "Shall we then?"

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

I stood still as she appraised me, as all women do. I hated to let someone see me so vulnerable, so weak, but the circumstances were strange to say the least. Her blush made her no less beautiful--in fact it added an air of innocence that made her all the more attractive.

I sighed when I saw the blood on her hand. "Now we both need to be cleaned up," I said, shaking my head and immediately regretted it. Her touch was softer this time, and I smiled in response. I was not used to tender selfless actions.

"I shall work on redeeming myself immediately, lady angel," I said, smiling as I took her arm. "I feel I have quite reached the bottom today, and therefore there is only one way to go next." I pointed skyward and chuckled. "Hopefully I will be able to show you that the measure of my talent goes far beyond drinking and ending up naked in dark alleyways. Lead on, my dear."