Post by Aurianne nó Hughes on Jun 2, 2010 12:24:49 GMT -5
I wasn't sure what brought me here today, in truth, and once I walked through the doors and removed my shoes, I looked 'round, my breath shallow in my lungs.
It had been a long time since I'd served Naamah, and I almost felt in a way that I was dishonoring her by abstaining. Since Damien had purchased my marque and given my freedom to me, I'd belonged to none, yet still somehow to him, somewhere deep inside my heart. I abstained from her service for him, though he'd never asked me to, and I knew he never would. I had naught to do these days, and frequently I found myself wondering what it was that noblewomen did to fill their time. Is that why gossip was so prevalent, I wondered?
I worked still to keep my body in pristine condition; the flat of my stomach lay just as tight as it always had, my legs and arms and back as limber as they ever had been. If I couldn't control anything else, it was that, though in the darkness of the night I began to receive visits from my past; terrors. At first it began while Damien was still gone, quiet frets that whittled away at my sleep, but they grew, and the dread in my stomach followed. I'd lived with it for years since I'd arrived to Camellia from Alyssum, worried I would disappoint someone, namely my mother. That I would not live up to the expectations of my patrons, that I would lose favor with my Dowayne. It had began to go away when Mathieu had started contracting me; in the feelings I had for him, I felt security as much as fear that I'd disappoint him too, an odd sort of combination that curdled my stomach and soothed my heart. Somewhere along the way, Mathieu and I had lost sight of each other and I'd met Damien, a man whose heart lay elsewhere, but slivers could still be mine. Could be, and were; over time I'd hoped that those slivers would swell and grow, that rather than his heart belonging to another, it would be them who would have the slivers. I think it'd begun to happen, but with that knowledge came the fears that I'd disappoint him too.
Now I stood in the marble entrance to the temple of Naamah, my eyes a touch too wide, my fingers clasped together before my stomach. I was older, wiser, my marque blooming up over the back of my dress, visible as my hair was pinned up, and with quiet steps I followed an acolyte to the statue of Naamah, her face the very vision of beauty, her hands, her hips, her breasts and waist showing grace and desire. One I'd aspired to be like her, to make kings weep, to make them blind for two weeks after laying with me once. Now.. Elua, I didn't know what to do anymore. Picturing Damiens face, I knelt at her feet and prayed, my head bent low, chin almost touching my chest.
It had been a long time since I'd served Naamah, and I almost felt in a way that I was dishonoring her by abstaining. Since Damien had purchased my marque and given my freedom to me, I'd belonged to none, yet still somehow to him, somewhere deep inside my heart. I abstained from her service for him, though he'd never asked me to, and I knew he never would. I had naught to do these days, and frequently I found myself wondering what it was that noblewomen did to fill their time. Is that why gossip was so prevalent, I wondered?
I worked still to keep my body in pristine condition; the flat of my stomach lay just as tight as it always had, my legs and arms and back as limber as they ever had been. If I couldn't control anything else, it was that, though in the darkness of the night I began to receive visits from my past; terrors. At first it began while Damien was still gone, quiet frets that whittled away at my sleep, but they grew, and the dread in my stomach followed. I'd lived with it for years since I'd arrived to Camellia from Alyssum, worried I would disappoint someone, namely my mother. That I would not live up to the expectations of my patrons, that I would lose favor with my Dowayne. It had began to go away when Mathieu had started contracting me; in the feelings I had for him, I felt security as much as fear that I'd disappoint him too, an odd sort of combination that curdled my stomach and soothed my heart. Somewhere along the way, Mathieu and I had lost sight of each other and I'd met Damien, a man whose heart lay elsewhere, but slivers could still be mine. Could be, and were; over time I'd hoped that those slivers would swell and grow, that rather than his heart belonging to another, it would be them who would have the slivers. I think it'd begun to happen, but with that knowledge came the fears that I'd disappoint him too.
Now I stood in the marble entrance to the temple of Naamah, my eyes a touch too wide, my fingers clasped together before my stomach. I was older, wiser, my marque blooming up over the back of my dress, visible as my hair was pinned up, and with quiet steps I followed an acolyte to the statue of Naamah, her face the very vision of beauty, her hands, her hips, her breasts and waist showing grace and desire. One I'd aspired to be like her, to make kings weep, to make them blind for two weeks after laying with me once. Now.. Elua, I didn't know what to do anymore. Picturing Damiens face, I knelt at her feet and prayed, my head bent low, chin almost touching my chest.