Scarlett Willow-The Crimson Phoenix ~Secrets for the Stars~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY EIGHTEEN]

What a pile of rot this place is. At least it isn’t Waterdeep. Still I continue to be amazed at what is acceptable. Poor fools. Went to that festival today at Candlekeep. Between idiots droning on about morality and ballads for treasonous bastards… and the drunken brawls brought on by some trashy number by a woman so ugly some folks refer to her as -him- … yeah. Needless to say I was glad that Heartless wasn’t there. He would have wanted me to read something. I wouldn’t have granted the rabble a rhyme.

Still the vulgar wench had some sort of gall. Apparently a lost bet, but still, to not perform to the whims of an audience… can, as in this case be murderous. I watched fists fly in rage, and smiled. The only notable performances were of that foreign woman, and Gregor. She sang a suitably scandalous song, and has a skill of musical performance that is well worth admiring. Gregor’s song, while not as deliciously chilling as the first one he sang for my benefit… was still lovely. A true story in which forbidden lovers perished in favor of a forced marriage… A truly beautiful, wonderfully unhappy ending. True to life even. Not to mention, for a male minstrel, he isn’t half bad.

Still it was disappointing to see the votes mull through. They voted for the raunchy woman and Gregor. Needless to say, it wasn’t boring. Grim would have died… or killed things. There were at least half a dozen tiefers there. Though he would have loved the joke the wizard told. Which reminds me… I think the wizard’s limerick is also worth writing down too.

A JOKE FOR GRIM
[AS TOLD BY VALERIUS ROKRANON OF CANDLEKEEP]

An ugly man walks into a temple, and approaches the cleric.
'Sir, I hurt all over.' The man says to the healer.

The healer looks at him, and says, 'That's not possible. Where do you hurt the worst?'

The ugly man insists. 'No, really!' he says, 'just look! When I touch my arm, ouch! It hurts! When I touch my leg, ouch! It hurts! When I touch my head, ouch! It hurts! When I touch my chest, ouch! It -really hurts-!'

The priest smiles calmly, and asks the man a question. 'You're a half-Orc, aren't you?'

The ugly man blinks with surprise. 'Well, yes. But how did you know?'

The cleric nods thoughtfully, then replies: 'Because your finger is broken.'
~~

So I wandered for a bit. Went with Gregor and the bloody Rock for Brains, Gregor’s fiancé, and we thrashed some giants for a bit. The Rock irritates me. But he is pretty sturdy to put between me and anything that might try to kill me. He was cranky though. I was feeling unusually… cheerful.

‘Cheer up Rocky, I will even let you call me Sparrow.’

‘But It won't be fun! We don't ruin our wonderful relationship!’

I rolled my eyes and met his sarcasm with my own.

‘Nothing could ruin our relationship.’

‘Aww. I hate you too.’

‘Be still, my heart.’

We traded customary glares, and I wished he would go jump in a lake… and sink… So on went the hunt, well enough. We then grew bored and tired. Rocky went off to sulk, Gregor and his girl went off to… yeah. And I wandered back toward Candlekeep, hoping the chaos from earlier had settled.

It had settled… was mostly quiet, for a bit at least. I had barely settled when a woman burst in screaming her head off about some giant flaming things on the road to the Gate. Naturally, I went with the group of would be heroes. After all… who doesn’t like a good yarn? Although, it is safe to say that not dying makes remembering the story easier.

There were these giant things. Not like any demon I had ever read about. Giant. Like stacking two of Anders’ dives up on top of each other. Black as the deepest shadows and wreathed in flame. Absolutely petrifying, sister. I did what I could, sang for those that fought, as you taught me. The power of music. And stood out of the way so the more experienced could hack away at the thing. I found a spot as out of the way as I could… sang your song Seraphim. I do it no justice. I shot the thing full of frosted arrows, for what little good it did. The first creature fell, but the second one… well I blacked out or something.

When I came to, there was a creature talking to them. It looked like a sodding angel. Wish you could have seen it. It was magnificent. It left fairly shortly after I came too, and those in the battle withdrew. I went back to Candlekeep again since that was where most were headed, and I sure in the nines wasn’t getting stuck on the road if another one of those things popped up. Survival, Seraphim. Right now I am surviving. Soon Seraphim. Soon it will be more than that.

So the Councilor, Siomir, the one that likes to needle… he offered to walk me to Beregost so I could get more arrows.

‘Let's go, Crimson… Or was it Vermillion?’

‘SCARLETT!’

‘That’s right, Rosy.’

Ugh. I hate men. I hate men that like to tease and flirt and try to get on my good side. I hate the ones that try to figure me out, the ones that think I need saving… I hate them, sister. I hate them because we both know they all want something… it is just a question of what, which specifics, and to what capacity. And this elf… He wanted to unravel the mystery. So I stormed off ahead.

‘Did I say something?’

‘No.’

I am sure my tone said otherwise. It certainly was not a lie I tried to hide. Idiot man.

‘Come on… smile.’

I offered him a hateful smirk, which he remarked was good enough. Then he went on to the flattery part. So predictable, men are. But this one… at least, is original. Said my nose looks better unscratched, that’s new. The conversation continued to the point that he smarted off about not ever being wrong. I scoffed and smarted off.

‘Right. And I am a gods-damned angel.’

He grinned.

‘Hello, Angel.’

Jerk. Sodding, damned jerk. I rolled my eyes.

‘What? Insulted?’

‘Angel? Ha! You insult the heavens.’

It went back and forth mildly, much to my irritation. The banter bordered contemplatively flirtatious. We finally made it to the smithy, and I worked my magic, talked him out of enough arrows to last a while, and practically robbed him for the amount of gold I actually paid. We then made our way toward the wizards house so the Councilor could buy his scrolls. He continued to needle and pick my brain as he saw fit, and I danced… clumsily, sister. I hated the fact that he was more right than wrong, and not about to bloody let him know that.

He did offer a couple good tips about fighting though. He is good with a blade, I’ll give the bastard that much. Infuriating, bloody, bastard. Arrogant sodding Elf. He watched me fight, offered some advice… the next go around wasn’t so bad. He knows what he is talking about… Surviving means you respect people who stand better at something than you do, and learn from it. Even if he can’t get my -name- right… even if my name is actually your name. They don’t need to know that.

The magus was there at the gate of Candlekeep when we got back… and we got to talking about poetry because the bastard Councilor accused me of ‘running away’ so I sat out there with them and wrote. The wizard. Guess as sorts go… he could be worse too, least he has a bit of a sense of humor, as shown in his poem. Got to talking about humorous limericks, and he offered one.

‘I once knew a woman in red,
Who had strange thoughts in her head,
She felt the world full of fools,
Men who just stared between drools,
… But she still let them into her bed.’
“… but she still went and left them for dead…”

I grinned at the magus, who chuckled. I could have gotten pissed. What was the point? I guess on the bright side… if they think I am a bloody harlot… the pigs will line up for slaughter. Yes. That isn't so bad. I started to throw a fit… but that would have given the damned elf more information than I wanted him. So I gracefully held my tongue and re-wrote his last line. I had been writing as he spoke after all. The Councilor had at least stopped his damned questions. Nosy flipping elf.

‘You did so well until the end.’

‘I know, right? But a limerick has to be dirty, or it's not a limerick. Not a -real- limerick, anyway.’

‘You surprise me daily Valerius.’

‘I try, -Councilor-.’

“… but she still went and left them for dead…”
‘Much better don’t you think?’

They smiled and chuckled. Councilor smarted off about anger being easier… to which I simply stated that it was more practical. We talked a while longer. The Councilor left.

The wizard then asked for a poem in exchange for a poem. Very clever… but in fairness, I relented. I recited a slightly revised version of the poem I had considered for the Festival. I had changed it now, three times since originally setting it to parchment. He did respect it for the art of it, but he is one of those fools that haven’t learned that such things are illusions. So we talked a while longer, and the wizard and I debated hope and happiness.

Eventually we both were too tired to debate further. He mentioned earning another poem. We will see. So many clever dancers. Maybe some of them aren’t so bad… maybe some of them are safe, Seraphim… but I can’t take the chance… not with Anders still looking for me.

Right then. May the stars keep your secrets… and mine. I will be careful. I have done everything you asked me to, and I will keep my promise. I miss you so much. I look to the moon light and hope to see you there in the shadows… and I pray that the whispers from the stars… somewhere in there… that your voice guides me as it always did. Mist and Shadow. I need sleep, and a bottle of wine…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY NINETEEN]

Gods Damn it! What in the Nine Hells am I bloody doing? The whole day has been nearly nothing but Rot! Rot that is going to cause me trouble. I just know it. Started with those damned goblins. Bloody little runted bastards. Hiding in the bushes, put an arrow or two square in my shooting arm. Nearly bloody killed me too. I ran my arse all the way to Beregost. Got myself patched up and what not, was going to go back better prepared and give the goblins a go… But Rocky beat me to it. Then I made my first mistake of the day. On enough shifty ground with that damned Rock for brains.

‘So I guess it is my turn to buy drinks.’

I was too sore and too pissed to turn down free wine. So I said yes. Idiot thing to do. Had two bottles of wine down before the adrenaline from the fight wore off. Rocky just sat there being decent. Damn him. Ever since yesterday… four bottles of wine and trading stories… I don’t even hate the damned pile of rocks anymore. He pisses me off, but hells… I know worse folk.

Sat and talked a while. He let me fuss and fume over my shoulder and wounded pride. Then that idiot with the damned mask showed up and started his rot. Oooh! Mist and Shadow… I -hate- him. I really do. Had the nerve to wink at me. Down hill from there. Pile of stupid Rot.

‘What's wrong sugar?’

‘Don't you -sugar- me!’

‘Ok. I will make sure I don't call you sugar, Precious.’

What could I possibly write that would convey the number of ways I considered killing him that moment? Or the number of foul words I thought up to call him. I was already pissed and in a bad mood and he was making it worse…

‘I am not your damned -pet-. Now either shut the nines up or pike the hells off.’

‘Why do you say that Precious? Do you prefer sweetness?’

‘I prefer -Scarlett-’

I kept telling myself how much I didn’t need trouble… How much trouble killing him would be… how I was still -bleeding- and in no shape to fight… and on my third bottle of wine… Did everything I could think of to keep my head. I knew he was -trying- to piss me off. This was a game. A game I wasn’t in any shape to play. I cleaned my nails with my dagger and glowered at him as he kept running his damned mouth.

‘Hmm. Precious. I like that. But if you don't… I tell you what--’

‘Scarlett, and you don't tell me a damned thing. No body does. I am not some damned two copper strumpet to be ordered about, and not in a damn mood to put up with your rot.’

‘I'll make you an offer, … Precious…, a deal that will allow you to call me Mask, assuming the God himself doesn't object, and keep me from calling you an affectionate nickname.’

‘And what must I do for this -generous- offer?’

‘You answer one question for me. A question of my choosing, honestly and completely, and I will never call you anything other than Scarlett again. And you adhere to the spirit of the deal - no loopholes.’

‘Well that would depend on the damned question.’

‘I'll ask you no question about your life before you came here. But you must answer the question completely as well as honestly. And keep the spirit of the bargain in mind. No loopholes or cheats. Or the deal is off. What do you say… Precious?’

I glared at him.

‘Why can't you simply decline?’

And back down from the challenge? Let him accuse me of being afraid. It would be a warm day in Cania before I let that happen!

‘Because she is sure there is a way to get the upper hand. She just hasn't figured it out yet. That is what really bothers her.’

Bastard. Who says he gets to figure it out? Damn the lot of em. I am not about to be backed into a corner… or so I thought. Maybe without a gaping, bleeding hole in my shoulder… and three bottles of wine knocked back… I would have stood a chance… I was doomed from the moment I stepped foot in Beregost.

‘Its a damned trick. I am not an idiot. There is a catch or something that will leave me scrapped.’

‘Actually, there isn't. At least not for you.’

‘HA! Heard that one before!’

There was more debating and the whole matter became coldly business like. Except I was too proud to back down… and too drunk to keep step. Not sure which pissed me off more… the damned name or him in general.

‘So, what is it? Yes or no? Scarlett or Precious?’

‘You must think I am stupid.’

‘No. I don't. And you know that, too.’

‘Just Shut the Nines up.’

‘Good. It's a deal then. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. I want to hear you say it. ‘I agree to your deal‘. It's ok you can whisper it. Then its nothing but Scarlett for you name as long as I live.’

‘All I have to say is its a deal?’

‘No, that you agree to my deal. And no loopholes remember?’

He wasn’t an idiot either. I will give him that much.

‘It’s already got so many holes in it now. You have it set so that I am vulnerable if I agree, and no matter what, you benefit.’

‘No Scarlett, I've seen that you are a capable bargainer and refuse to make the same mistake as our first negotiation. Otherwise you would have agreed already.’

I thought long and hard… mostly about how to kill him. How to win the game… if all else fails… Kill him. Problem solved.

‘You're awfully quiet, Princess Sugar Bottom. Still thinking on it?’

Heard the phrase: If only looks could kill? Mine would have killed him… more than once… painfully… Darren was already scooting back from the table and waiting for me to kill him. I shifted the grip on my dagger.

‘I swear to the Gods you want to die.’

‘I think I need to share it with others.’

‘You are an absolute suicidal idiot.’

He looked at me with a stupid grin on his face… I pretty much promised him death in every painful way imaginable with a look… and he still… had to push. IDIOT!

‘WE NEED MORE WINE FOR PRINCESS SUGAR BOTTOM!!’

He yelled at the top of his lungs. Drunk and hurt or not, the now empty third bottle was pushed aside as I moved my dagger point to his throat.

‘Don't -do- that again, or there won't be enough of you to make a deal with. Are we clear? Cross me on this, and I can promise you won’t live to see it won't happen twice. I agree to your sodding deal. Now shut the -hells- up or you can figure out how to ask your question -dead-!’

The deal was struck… Hells take him. By the close of it all… I did leave… I did get to punch him… even though it hurt like the bloody damned hells. Then Darren started in… I ended up yelling at both of them, and storming off. Darren was mad that I backed out of a fight and didn’t just bloody kill the masked idiot. I had drank three bottles of wine… way too fast… was in a mood, not thinking straight to start, plus my shoulder was in bad shape. Wasn’t about to go see a healer to get all touchy feely… it would mend in its own time. I just had to stay out of trouble.

Well, I went to the beach… and Mask caught up with me. Wasted his damned question asking about the Artist. Idiot. Not only did he fulfill our deal, but I barely know anything. Barely told him anything. Though I bet the Artist will be curious to know that Mask is asking questions… still need to talk to him about my other profitable little proposition… Maybe I wouldn’t have to kill the Mask… this just worked gloriously in my favor.

After all that rot, still pissed, still hurt and still drunk, Rocky and I went to Candlekeep. Rocky actually gives a damn. Not sure why, but he really wants me to cut back on my drinking. Keep me out of trouble and all that… even got me a regeneration potion to fix up my shoulder. Of course he took to lecturing me like he was my damned father… and I don’t care if he is twice my age. No one asked him to bloody care. Damn him though. Hard to hate the Rock for Brains, even if we both agreed to keep up appearances. What a mess! I need to sleep this damned wine off.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY]

Why is it every time I am having a good day some bastard idiot has to ruin it? It was such a good day… minus a few little things. Only thing missing was Grim and Cici. Had a couple new sorts, good friends with Gregor and Rhamea it seemed… and the motley group that made up the ones I could loosely consider friends. There were drinks and songs, good food. I rattled off a few poems.

You would be proud, Seraphim. It isn’t so bad to share poetry with others. They actually like it. I know, I know. You always told me I was a fair poet. I am still terrified that if I let them glimpse even that tiny space in my being… they will seek to use it against me. Poetry is beautiful… and like any art is part of the artist. Bits of soul given form and granted to the ears of those who would behold such… I wonder if those ears are worthy of such grand things?

These ears were. And Lovable almost caught on. Told me I should chase those dreams in the poems. I stated quickly that those dreams were not mine. That the poem was for another. She was content with it… but I doubt wholly convinced. At the same time, that which terrifies me is strangely freeing. If I give these pieces of myself to those worthy of them… then soon, there won’t be anything to claim… anything to own. Ashes scattered to the winds, Anders can hold a small part… but I would be free…

More whimsical dreaming. I know even now that I won’t be fully free until Anders is dead. That last thread to Maeve cut… So I surround myself with useful folks. Keep them distant enough it is still safe… and close enough that they might care enough to help me out if the time comes. Though I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t care. Honey. You always said to use honey, sis… not acid. I can’t help it… You know damned good and well what happens when we are nice. We get used and bruised and tossed to the nearest gutter.

Still, it was a good day. I was even minding my wine… and because I need to… not because Rocky cared enough to ask me to. There was a handsome noble type, and some gorgeous little elf that came in too, they were dancing and laughing and what not. He didn’t seem so bad… probably platinum lined. Not like those ‘Nobles’ we had to deal with sis. He seemed like he might actually care. Which is useful. Sure I could string him for his coins… but I have enough of those. After seeing the way he handles the more bloody situations… I think he will be more useful than a walking piggy bank. And all I would have to do is ask.

The Elf? Seraphim… only thing I have ever seen prettier than you. Either she genuinely is a naïve little slip of an elf… or very good at her acting. The Platinum Knight hardly seemed aware of it. She could have twisted him around her finger a few times and not even broke a sweat. They both have expensive taste in wine. She doesn’t trust me. Not that I blame her… she thinks I am some copper a dozen thief though. Let her think that. Let her tell everyone that. Whatever keeps me at a safe distance. Aside from being possibly unstable… she doesn’t seem so bad. I respect her for the casual way she seems to approach her own ability to halt the room, as you used to say. Puts me to shame she does.

So by the time the Platinum Knight and the Goddess had entered the tavern though, the rest of the group had gathered around the larger table, and frankly… I think we -all- had too much to drink. Kept seeing people randomly burst into flames. Poor, Lovable, Joonie, swore it was precursor to demons… Gregor was having a fit too. Nothing ever came of it though… except more drinking. Probably a trick of the alcohol and the light… If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a trickster about. It was an illusion the Mistshadow would have been proud of. No one ever got burned… but it sure was convincing looking.

So by the time this lot of jerks wandered in with their rot… everyone else was pretty jumpy. I was halfway through the second bottle of wine, and amusing myself by throwing flatware at Rocky, while we all chatted and carried on… of course Rocky was trying to sleep because he gets so damned bored so easy… but it was a good evening, I was actually in a good mood… Some bastards had to show up and ruin it.

Some bastard dwarf worse than Grim, a Hin wench, an Orc the size of half a mountain, and one of those arrogant bastard types, not quite as bad as Anders or Cale… more like Davis or one of them lot. Always calling us -pets-. They come bursting into the Wizard like they own the place, mind you there were plenty of tables. I’ve been staying there for a bit over a month now… never seen the place packed in. Kept my rent and my tab paid up, and old Gram told me I had nothing to worry about. Kept him tipped well enough that if there was trouble… he would be on the side of coin.

"Look what we have here, lads!"

"People. At our table."

"Aye! Buncha wanna-bes sitting at our table!"

Well at that point I corked the wine. No Blood in the Wine… I had my dagger out already, so I just waited. They looked like the trouble type of lot. We had things even matched. Two more of us than there were of them, and if the Goddess and the Platinum Knight took offense, well then we had them two to one. Gregor and Rocky spoke up first.

‘Yer Table?’

‘Piss off.’

Of course as, Lovable said… it was another all too novel… violence prone Dwarf and he got in Rocky’s face. The Orc… finger wiggling bastard… said something about needing parts. Whatever in the Hells that was supposed to mean didn’t matter because the bastard one spoke up… and said the wrong damned thing.

“Mmh… Can I keep the pretty one in the hood?”

I watched, almost pleased, as he eyed me like a piece of meat… and watched Star-Gazer’s eyes narrow dangerously… Didn’t know he cared so much.

‘No one keeps me.’

He ogled at me with a sneer. I carefully drew my long blade out, shifted my position as Rocky and the Dwarf were about to have a go behind me. Watched the Hin and the Orc. There was no way this would end peacefully… Especially not after the Bastard kept talking.

“Oooh! Temper, Temper… You’ll be fun.”

‘Touch me and die.’

I glared at the idiot. I almost dared him to try. The Platinum Knight spoke up as the idiots drew their weapons.

‘Whoa, hold on here. No need for violence. Stay your weapons, folks.’

"Max! Jarra! Johann! Let's show these dunderheads who they're messing with!"

And that was that. It was a bloody damned riot of scrap. Stargazer made short work of the Bastard… I was sad that I didn’t get a hit in on him… but at least I knew where he stood if Anders came calling on me. I have fought with the rest of them enough to know they are loyal enough.

Damned finger wiggler summoned a huge bear, that sat on my while the Dwarf wailed on me. I got knocked out or something… Last thing I saw was Rocky beating the Nines out of the Dwarf and then it went dark. By the time I woke up they were putting out fires on burned chairs, cursing mages. The Orc got as far as the middle of the street and collapsed dead from his wounds. The Platinum Knight helped Lovable patch us up.

Gram sent the barmaid… I forget her name, but she is real sweet. Sent her off to get the guards and we tried to clean up a bit. Once things were mostly cleaned up, and I recovered from the knock to the head… Damned Dwarf… Star-Gazer and his friend left. Then the Platinum Knight, who by the way… looked dashing in that royal purple, and can handle a fight like it’s nothing… and his little Elven Goddess left.

Was starting to think that was the worst of the day. Really was. I mean sure I was grumbling about being kept, we were all a little rattled… then the damned corpse of the Bastard jumped up and tried to eat Rocky. Yeah. Got back up and tried -again- after it died. Mist and Shadow, sis! It was like something out of one of those scary stories you used to tell… with the ghosts and zombies and such. Well I got to hit the bastard the second go around… though his rot messed up my armor. Had to leave it with Thunderhammer, and we were asked by the guards to stay some place else while they cleaned up the mess. They were grumbling about curses and such. I have to say… I wondered.

So we split up a bit… Rhamea and Gregor, Rocky and I, and of course I went straight up to a room for a bath. Got Nine kinds of Hell for a dress… we cut up and joked a bit and then we all went our separate ways to get some rest.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-ONE]

Okay, so I am stuck in dresses for a few days, since it is all I have is dresses, and my armor is getting repaired. I swear one more person smarts off and I am going gut someone. Anyway, there were bigger problems today. This whole bloody coast plays out like a novel… a twisted tragedy, am I the only one to see the beauty in the chaos? Probably not… though few see such with a poet’s eye.

So we were sitting at the merchant camp, I say we… There were a few knightly folks, one of whom was the Platinum Knight, and a few other folks. Some idiot they said was named John. I thought for sure the knights or the guards were going to gut the idiot for glorifying a treasonous bastard… I tried, with little success to edge it closer to blood shed, or at least a good scrap, but never got that far. Instead the fire started going all strange.

Bad luck to wear a dress I think. There was some oddity with the flames… and now I understand why Gregor was so panicked at the Wizard. These creatures, straight out of a child’s nightmare, came pouring out of the fire. Burning, rotted walking corpses, all manner of undead, skeletons writhing in flame. It was pretty scary actually. They just kept coming. The Platinum Knight is definitely one to keep on my good side… Very good in a fight.

Things finally started to look good… the idiot had even been killed. The things stopped coming out of the fire, things got quiet for a moment… I turned around. You know that sense of impending doom that stands your hair on end? Yeah. I should have just stayed turned with my back to it. It was a bloody damned dragon the size of a warehouse… and it was all sodding bones! What in the Nines is with this place and bloody damned dragons?!

So I got squished. The Dragon at our backs… we turned to face it… and then things came out of the fire. Some Elf I guess used some sort of magic and kept me from dancing between the moonbeams with you, sis. The Platinum Knight, and all his knightly friends did the chivalrous thing and tried to stay between me and the dangerous bits. Eventually it calmed down.

I got escorted southward, to Candlekeep… would have liked to get as far as Beregost, but Candlekeep is a great place to write. I wrote so many poems… some of them were even nice. Passed the day pretty decently, the excitement of the morning pretty much behind us. I was being nice to the Platinum Knight. Least I could do considering he was being nice and keeping me in one piece. Besides if I was going to need his help in the future… I had better stay on his good side. Men are blessedly predictable… Good men, while rare, are much simpler.

Quiet never lasted. So the Platinum Knight asked if he could ask me a question, which was a blessing because The Mask was there, and he was trying to drive me nuts. Okay… So he wasn’t trying. He was getting on my nerves. But that is beside the point. I followed the knight into the keep, curiosity winning over caution. He wanted to find his brother for a moment… instead we found a crowd readying for trouble.

‘Screams in the Library. Draw your swords.’

‘Sparrow, get your bow!’

I raised a brow to Rocky. I started to argue, but there wasn’t time… there were indeed screams… Besides I was in a dress. I drew my bow, again wondering that he even cared at all. He treats me like such a kid. Not so bad I guess. At least he tries to keep me in one piece. He’s an odd one… for a walking rock.

So here it is Seraphim. The dream we whispered about… To see so many stories in one place? I saw it. The inside of the Library at Candlekeep. Glorious as it was, it was tarnished by blood. Monks dead all around us, and walking dead looking for more. Kind of sad. Seeing as I will likely never see the inside of the place again. Not that I would actually be allowed to enjoy such things.

Wasn’t much time for thought. I simply sang us through battle as you taught me. I stayed out of the way as best I could. Music is power… Rhyme and Melody. Unfortunately singing isn’t my strong suit, and I did die once. Fortunately there was someone there that knew how to work those divine magics.

When I came to, we just kept pushing forward. So many undead things. More than you would find in a library of ghost stories. Finally though, all the things that shouldn’t have been moving to start with… stopped moving, or were in enough pieces to not be harmful. The others were going on about a gem… or piece of one. Rocky wanted to keep it of course. The rest of them were looking at it like it was some sort of cursed thing. The Goddess, I am no convinced either went nuts down in those catacombs, or was crazy to start with… and she was in a fine state of panic.

The Silver-Tongued Magus made short work of destroying the magic in the gem with a bit of magic. This came of course after a good deal of quiet debate over what to do, and watching for more less-than-dead dead. I wrote a poem, and finished it as we made our way out of the library. We were rightly tired. A lot of the group talked about speaking to some woman about the gem, and dispersed.

I had made up my mind not to wear dresses ever again… bad luck. Soon as it is safe… I am going to Beregost to get my armor. Sure hope Thunderhammer is done with it. I feel so damned exposed. Unprotected… and that is with armor. Right now I feel a half step away from naked. Unfortunately there is more truth to that than I like. Not enough protection with a dress… and too easy to get out of. I don’t like being so damned exposed. The compliments and wide eyed men-folk isn’t really doing much more than piss me off. Just once… Just ONCE, Seraphim… I want to meet a halfway decent one that sees more than the pretty face.

Sure there are lots of maybe sorts… but I can’t say I trust any of them… and so far they all prove dangerous to one degree or another… risky for one reason or another… Or just flat out sodding piles of rot. Users, Used… Pigs… Tools… Bastards. Is it really even worth hoping for? The grand illusion of love. Infatuation with some frill and lace. False, fleeting and doomed to fail… leaving nothing but ashes in the wake. I need sleep, before I spend the next four hours being grossly philosophical about why such things are the way they are.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-TWO]

People see just what I want them to see. It hardly even matters if they see the same thing. The only thing that matters is that they see what they need to see. Not enough to see the whole. Bits of truth scattered like ash to the winds. No one knows more than they need to in order to see something worth keeping. The brilliant bits of truth buried in blurred lies. So I remain hidden. Never truly held by any one thing or place or face… Never the same mask, and what they will never find… Is the truth. For I am all of these things… in part, and as the whole.

To some I am little more than a whisper of smoke on a breeze… to others a flame that illuminates the darkness… to others a raging inferno that threatens to consume all of them. The past is little more than ashes. Even ashes can sting the eyes and choke you. Cloying and suffocating… Some day even that won’t touch me. Even if it takes Anders’ blood to wash it away. It will, and at this point, that doesn’t bother me… not that it ever did. None of their deaths did. I gave them a chance to leave. They chose their addictions, their vices. Burn away the rot. Walk away…

Eight years… We walked through more hell together than the worst of the Nines, sis. The last two, I feel like I am stumbling about blindly… but I gave my word, and I am doing my best. I know you know that. Gods damn Anders… He doesn’t deserve the Hells. They talk of fates worse than death. I wish all of them on him… and then the very worst the Nine Hells have to offer… and even then… He gets off easy.

What would I do, Seraphim if I could look back and see a beautiful horizon… and not a foreboding shadow of something unfinished? Probably run as fast as I could the other way. We both know there are no happy endings… just stories that haven’t come to a proper conclusion yet. I think I stand a better chance now though. At least for a marginally agreeable ending. All comes down to choices. I will finish what was started. I promised.

There is art in the ugliest of things… beauty hidden. I seek the metaphor. I seek the hidden light in the darkness. Enigma draws mystery, moths to flame. It is some sort of dance, really it is. Fire is a beautiful metaphor for so much… dancing is too. Artists are everywhere, each have their own canvases… brushes. No two are the same, and yet, by design or requirement… No two are so different. The world exists in a beautiful and chaotic contradiction. One side ever against the other… in a dance between flame and star… Those that do not escape the flames, shall dance between the stars. And yet even the stars fall in a burning trail to nothingness. There are those at home in the fire… those that create from it… something more lovely than there was. Those of the stars, glimmering lights among shapeless shadows… And then there are those of us that must waltz between the two. I may still be learning. I will master both flame and star.

I am the Phoenix born of fire… and some day I too will soar among the stars…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-THREE]

So I haven’t written in a while. Been busy trying to save my own arse. Sorry sis. Trying to stay out of trouble. I really am. I am doing okay I guess. HAHA. You always said that you can’t lie to a liar. Hells! I am not even half the deceiver you were, and I should know better. Guess you could say things are going well enough. I’ve gotten quite a collection of people that I might consider friends… Maybe. They are certainly more than just useful tools.

There was no festival yesterday, and we sort of spent most of the day chatting. Different people. I can get along with the noble sorts as easy as the not so noble ones. Same face… different mask. The good news is that the chances of getting caught alone, and robbed again… are slim. I plan on keeping to groups… one group or another. If petty thieves can pull that off… imagine what Anders’ goons can get away with… or better yet? Don’t. I really don’t want to think about what Anders would do if he ever got a hold of me again.

Met another irritating one. Not sure what to make of him yet. His nickname is Duck, or Ducky. I think I like Ducky better. Says his name is Drake, but I am not an idiot. He is Drake Phoenix like I am Scarlett Willow. Still as irritating as he is… and he is -really-, REALLY irritating… He has potential use. If I don’t kill him first for driving me nuts. In fact, after so much going on… I was cranky. Stormed off mad when Rocky arrived and Ducky started in on Rocky and I being a couple…

Which lead to me trying to hit Whiskey. I ran into… well I should say I was hidden by spell… which he could apparently see… So when he poked me in the side I went to slap him. Damn bastard Elf, saw it coming… and blocked it. Much to my irritation. That lead to a mostly pleasant dinner. Whiskey, the Goddess, Rocky, eventually Whiskey’s future wife… It was actually kind of nice.

People really like my poems for some reason. Truthfully it scares me. Poetry is a part of the poet after all. Some folks are smart enough to figure out the metaphors. Anyway, Whiskey’s wife mentioned writing a book to publish. Full of poems. I also got another offer to join the Performer’s Guild. Not sure that is a good idea… either of them… money or not. I need to stay out of sight, until I am sure that it is safer. And by Safer, I do mean Anders dead, choking on his own filth.

So the evening was going great. Rocky had given me a pretty gem. Called a star sapphire. You should see it, Seraphim! It is a pretty shade of blue, like my eyes or blue birds… and so clear… in the middle? It is like looking at the loveliest star out of the sky… trapped in the gem. I know people thing Rocky gives me these things in some misguided attempt to capture my affection… but they are wrong. He gives them to me because he likes to hear the poems I write for the gems. This one lead to a brilliant, albeit short, poem.

Rocky went to rest, and so did the Goddess. I should have too. We got to talking about Rocky being nice, and the gems, and how it was not him trying to get my attention. Rocky isn’t like that anyway, but still… Folks get ideas. Needs to be set right some times. Truth is… I screwed up. Big time. Fortunately Mrs. Whiskey is oblivious… still. I am going to have to be -EXTRA- careful.

‘You know… if it weren't for the fact that he has saved my arse a few times…. I would sell the gems. Though for the record I don't understand any of you people.’

‘Hmm? What do you mean?’

‘I mean all of you being nice. Gods know I haven't given any of you half a reason to.’

‘We're just giving you the chance to be horrible or nasty. So… it's up to you, not us.’

‘Seraphim would laugh. She would look at me and say: Maeve silly, not everyone--’

I think I died for the briefest moment. I had been so careful. So -guarded- and I slipped up. Bad. Very bad. I can’t let that sort of thing happen. I can’t. Gods it can get me bloody killed! At least it was just Whiskey and his girl. He smiled. She seemed utterly clueless. I didn’t dare speak for a long moment. I just sat there measuring them up. I wonder if they realized the kind of damage that could do. Gods know I couldn’t kill them. I can’t run… No where to run to now. They can use it against me. Damn it all! Could they ever. Instead? He looked at me and whispered.

‘It's fine… I'll say nothing, myself.’

I wasn’t sure if I could believe him or not. Didn’t have any choice at the moment. Why did I even let my guard down to begin with? What in the Nine Damned Hells was I thinking?! Mist and Shadow… Lady guard me… Now more than ever.

‘Why are we so quiet now?’

She asked… it had been quiet for a very long time after all. I put on my best face and glossed it over.

‘It's nothing. Anyway… thank you for being decent folks…’

I nodded to Whiskey. A silent acknowledgement to his word to keep quiet. I sure as the hells hoped he would. In the mean time I would be careful. Very careful. I remained as long as was considered polite, made conversation, watched them, analyzed and was at least a little sure the chances of silence were in my favor. The conversation moved on gracefully… Just like that. Suppose the true test of it all will come down to whether or not I get carted off to Waterdeep. We will see. In the mean time I made a run for sleep as soon as it was practical. In the mean time I can only pray that you can watch my back, sis… May the Lady of Deception bury the truth in a place where it will not be found. I have got to stay safe. At least long enough to keep my promise to you. I will see Anders dead before I dance between the moonbeams, Seraphim. I will.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-FOUR]

Had a grand bit of fun today. Well it was a good bit of exercise, and I got a pretty trinket out of it. Good scrap too. Proved I can work in a group. Even made it look like I knew what I was doing… enough that they were content to let me play leader.

Don’t laugh Seraphim. I know you believe in me and my ‘commanding presence’ but face it… the only commanding presence is my pretty face. Maybe a rhyme or two. You were the star… I was the shadow. Odd to step into the light now. I feel… naked. Like sometimes they can see right through me, my careful words… straight to my soul… and I don’t like it.

Fortunately, these fellows were too busy flirting or hunting a giant troll… and I do mean giant. Stack a couple of wagons, giant… to notice my inadequacies, or to call my bluff. It actually went fairly well… I think. Only one died, and it wasn’t me. We even saved some idiot from being Troll Soup. Killed the bad guys, brought Ducky back to life… Priests are pretty handy folks for that sort of thing.

I guess all the nuts on the Coast are used to grand conspiracies and such. While I have no doubt the Trolls and the Orcs are up to something… and there is definitely more to it than meets the eye… the Goblins that attacked us? Totally random. Not tied into the conspiracy at all. I would almost bet on it. I mean I could be wrong, but gods… Not every bloody damned thing is the coming apocalypse!

So I learned a bit, earned a bit, in the very least some gold, if not some respect. Maybe someday they will see more than a pissed off pretty face. Hells… Now I am dreaming. Least I got a snappy bit of rhyme out of it. Silly thing… but hey. They don’t all have to be the dark yearnings of my secret heart. Don’t laugh, sis. Don’t cry either. Hard to find the light when you aren’t around. All seems like a pile of rot some days. It isn’t all bad… but… It isn’t you and me taking on the world like we dreamed either, Seraphim.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-FIVE]

It was a good day for words. Good day for wit. Really it was just a good day. Traded stories, gossip, rhymes, poems, even barbs. Plenty of new faces. Hate to admit it but some of these folks aren’t so bad. Sure some of them get on my nerves and I want nothing more than to send them on their merry way to the Hells… but… I can tolerate most of them. Guess when I give folks half a chance, it isn’t so bad. Anyway… it was great, really it was. Art and words.

You know how you used to say that a well placed word was the one thing that put the harlot on equal or better footing with the Noble Lady, and the farmhand level or better to the swordsman? I watched it happen all day. Watched them -dance- Seraphim… and it was beautiful. Some floundered and died away… some soared on words and wit, the whole thing was some sort of glorious whirl of thoughts. I hope you were watching from between the moonbeams, sis. I hope you sang.
~~

Rocky showed up this evening. Had some really pretty gems to show. Of course he wouldn’t let me keep the Beljuril… sad too because it really was lovely. He likes the verses for the gems. He’s obsessed with gems like I am with words… and we can each respect the other’s obsession. He looks out for me… like you did, sort of. Idiots all think there is something romantic going on. I know better, he knows better. Let them think what they want. I don’t belong to -anyone-. Never will. But if thinking I do keeps most of them from trying… Who am I to argue.
~~

So we went for a walk. Rocky and I talked a lot. Some words are meant for hearing… not for writing. Least now I understand better why is so protective. Guilt. Told me he sees in me the consequences of his past actions. I don’t want him clinging to me like I am going to save him… gods know I can’t. I think he knows it to.

Still, he seems hells bent to keep me out of more trouble. Regardless that our pasts never crossed… we share a common thread. A better-off-forgotten, impossible-to-forget one. Ends justify the means. If it keeps me alive long enough to keep my promise to you… Guess I can’t even say that. I don’t wish anything bad on the damned pile of rocks. He is an abrasive sort… little too defensive sometimes… even for my liking, but so far, our relationship has been both profitable and highly productive.

Took me to a really pretty lake with a waterfall. He doesn’t like it when I run out of rhymes. So he shows me pretty gems and pretty places. Like I said… some words are for writing and some are just for listening. We came to an understanding… of sorts. All that matters or needs to be said really.

The waterfall was beautiful… the lake… the whole place. The mountains around us… it reminded me of our dream we hid in, Seraphim. Remember? That place a couple of girls imagined up to hide from all the bastards. It never seemed the same after you died… like the light was gone from it. This place we were in… was like that. Beautiful… but… Rocky mentioned a dark temple. Said the lake was angry because something had just sucked the life out of the place… That just made it all the more like our place among the stars. It was so achingly beautiful… I don’t know how long I sat there in the cold mist from the mountain run off… that waterfall was spectacular…
~~

By the time we headed back to Beregost… I had a rhyme for you, sis. Gods I miss you! There aren’t words enough for the anger I have for Anders and what he did to you… what they did to you… to us. I’ll see it set right. Then we can both be free. Somehow… I will do and see all those things we wanted to. Carry it all to the stars for you some day. I just need to survive long enough. Least now that seems somewhat possible… Even if it would be easier with you to watch my back… in the more physical sense… not just from between the moonbeams.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-SIX]

Well… Today was -interesting-, at least the parts I was conscious for. It was about midday when I made it back to Baldur’s Gate. It’s always a busy place, but today there was more traffic than normal. Hadn’t been sitting long before I heard people talking about a Red Wizard in the city. Come to find out later that is a really big deal. They are apparently outlawed on Ducal lands because of a Thayan attempt against the city some years back.

Well… it turned into an even bigger deal. They were going to hang him… of course the execution drew a crowd. Remember those stories we read where the Thayans were the bad guys? And the wizards were the worst. That bald guy… yeah… him… the scary one. He gave me nightmares because of those stories… He might not have been Thayan… but he was a bastard enough… and I was what? 13? Gods. Sad thing was people were -supporting- the red robed bastard.

It was all rather ugly. Hope you weren’t looking down on me then, sis. It was pretty sad. Somebody -must- have been looking out for me though, because I was standing way too close to the wagons that exploded. Next thing I knew… I was waking up in a puddle of mud on the other side of the road from where I started. How it didn’t kill me, only the Lady knows. I was eyeing the destruction… and the hanging wizard… and trying to figure out just what had happened when the Platinum Knight came through.

Some men are so easy to figure out, sis. I almost feel bad for wriggling my way under this one’s skin. First off, he isn’t bad looking. Definitely well connected… friends with everyone sort of guy. Doesn’t seem to be lacking in funds either. Good with a blade, fortunately for me, also good at fixing up head wounds. An all around decent sort. Which means he is gullible. Perfect sucker for the damsel in distress… and after this conversation… I have a plan. He can be useful in plenty of ways… especially if Anders comes around.

And if Mister Handsome in Purple can’t take care of Anders, I am quite confident any of his good friends would. In with the right crowd. I will build myself a fortress of people… Anders will never touch me again. None of them will. I’ll have so many willing to stand between that bastard and I… Promise is a promise. And men like the Platinum Knight? A means to an end.

Don’t worry. I will be careful. Besides, he has his eye on his former wife. Not like I have to worry about him falling head over heels for me or anything. Poor fool. If he does… oh boy. It is too easy. Way too easy. We will see. I have time. For once I have time to enjoy the game, to play and not just be played. I kind of like it that way.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-SEVEN]

So, the whole day had passed in a brilliant spectacle of amusing confrontations… and flaring tempers. Seemed like everyone but me was in a bad mood… having a bad day… and trying to pick a fight with bloody everyone. Still, I stayed pleasant. I even dragged some poor sod to the temple and gave him a second chance at being alive. I didn’t even ask for the gold back. Looking back over the start of the day… I wonder if my first mistake was trying to be nice… or trying to enjoy a happy moment? It was such a good day! Really it was. I didn’t even pick any fights.

It was at the end of this brilliant day that I found myself buying drinks for the Goddess and the Platinum Knight. They were both a little edgy, and I was still in a pretty good mood. Figured it best to keep those around me in good spirits and what not. I passed out drinks with a bit of flourish, and sat down. I uncorked my own bottle of wine and raised it to them with a smile.

‘Cheers, doves. Been a … rather … odd day.’

A flitting shadow caught my eye, so it was that I barely heard the man swear… nor the whispered conversation about the mysterious woman who had entered the Tavern with us. It was a very faint whisper… from near the stairs. I heard it. And it scared the hells out of me.

'Songbird…'

As the hairs on the back of my neck rose… Every muscle in my body went tense. Ready to strike… but at what. The half a drink I managed, was it. I corked the bottle and I listened. Surely I did not hear what I thought I heard. It was impossible. Completely impossible. And then I watched the door open… up the stairs… and heard a giggle. The way she giggled when she was ‘sweet talking’ Anders into her next fix. I was sure it was my dear mother’s voice… but it was impossible. The others didn’t seem to notice either.

It was a man’s voice in the chair next to me… whether he was hidden by spell or by shadow I didn’t know… But my blade stopped inches from his heart before he was visible… and the Goddess was yelling at him for scaring her. Naturally they assumed it was him that had opened the door to the next floor… I was content to believe it… almost.

It was a cool breeze… like an early morning wisp of air, and the very faintest of touches across the back of my neck. Fingertips… if even that. I looked back ready to bury a dagger into some bastard for touching me… and there was no one there. The conversation between Goddess, the Platinum Knight and Smokey… went on. Though now they were regarding me like I was half mad… Maybe I was?

The two elves left right when Rocky showed up.

‘Still irritated, Scarlett?’

‘Huh? … Yeah.’

Even as I answered Rocky… I shook my head no. Coiled vipers could not have been wound so. I couldn’t stop looking for… -something-. There was nothing there though.

‘Should we all go? You don't really seem to want to be here.’

Sweet little paladin… Looking at me all worried. I wondered if he was nice to me because he wanted to be… or because he felt he had to be by duty? How does that work anyway?

‘It isn't the place… or the company… Sorry. I think my mind is playing tricks on me. Sorry gents.’

Rocky ordered a drink… the two men regarding me concerned, and sipping their own drinks. I uncorked my wine again, made a show at taking a sip. Corked the bottle again. Set it down. Things moved like they were going in slow motion. Rocky was worried, of course… and the Knight? He thought we were a couple… was going to leave us to sort our issues. Mind you, Rocky and I had traded some less than kind words, but Rocky wasn’t the problem. I couldn’t shake the fear that ran down my spine and back up again.

Apologies were made, and the Platinum Knight made his way out. I regarded the whole room warily. Rocky had a glass of the wine I had barely touched… we talked a bit about the problem at hand… enough for him to not worry as much as he could have… and decide I was insane. I mean, telling someone you heard your dead mother? That does sound a little bit nutty. Still, he tried to cheer me up… in his own Rock for Brains way.

We decided on some fresh air and a walk. Frankly, I didn’t want to stay where I was. I was a bit on the rattled side. Just… Maybe a bit more than a bit. Rocky challenged me to a bit of a race. For a pile of rocks? He can run. Beat me to the gates but not across the bridge. I was exhausted, but basked in my victory despite his insistence that he allowed me to win. Either way it did cheer me considerably. When you hit the bottom, only way to go is up.

For a bit the conversation was mostly pleasant. There was a good crowd at the Merchant Camp. There was only one jerk and he was busy getting on Whiskey’s bad side. Whiskey’s future wife, of course, was basking in the attention from her betrothed… and eyeing the offending male as if he were a Bugbear. So he overstayed his welcome already, but rather than leave like a good little arse… The idiot then had the audacity to ‘bump into’ me. As if that wasn’t bad enough he had to lean in nice and close to apologize for being a handsy bastard, sodding pile of rot.

‘Oh… I do apologize… I must be… clumsy.’

I shoved him off in short order.

‘Watch what in the Nine Hells you are doing, bloody idiot!’

Insult to injury, as he turned to leave… he winked. The bloody, damned, impertinent bastard -winked- at me. My tone was ice cold as I spoke.

‘Touch me ever again and lose hands… wink again and I will take a damned eye.’

‘Come again m'lady?’

‘You heard me.’

‘I am sorry…the winds must have kept the clarity of your voice from me.’

‘Do not -touch- me again… accidentally or otherwise.’

At that point I was positively vehement. I was vaguely aware of the others warning the man away. Only slightly more aware of Rocky urging me to calm down and not bite off more than I could chew. I wanted to kill the bastard. Who the hells did he think he bloody well was?! Still he argued his innocence… he was a smooth one. Yes, but he was just like every single one of those bastards, sis. Think because they throw a few coins in the right direction that they can treat us how they damned well pleased. Bastard.

‘I am not an idiot. I suggest you work on your balance. I know your type.’

There was more talking… more threats… gods know what else… I was too busy glaring holes in the back of his damned skull to really hear much. Eventually he left. Surprisingly, in one damned piece.

‘Well I was in a better mood.’

‘Wanna ‘win’ another running contest?’

I was about to answer Rocky when I heard a giggle from the wagon behind us. I am sure if the skin on my back had been visible… you could have watched the goose bumps crawl up my spine and stand the hairs on my neck on end. There were a lot of people. A lot. The laugh could have been anyone’s… yeah. Anyone’s. Not my --

‘…doubt my mother was that good of a liar…’

The phrase tricked to my thoughts, over the noise… and I winced at the word mother. Still the conversation continued on. There was talk of trade and all sorts of things. We even talked briefly of me writing a book… which lead to someone asking if I was one of the sorts who wrote for appearance’s sake. I answered with a bit of verse for fun:

THE POET
Give me not, your idle words
Waste them on me, go unheard
A poet's heart does follow muse
Thoughts and words the tool to use
Do not me offer blind presumption
Lest you‘re an arse in assumption
~~

The laughter… it sounded -so- familiar. And she snickered. Her laughter mocked me. Of course the others didn’t hear it. Rocky was looking pretty worried, so I went back to writing… or tried to.

‘I’m Fine, Rocky.’

‘I don't think so, Songbird…’

It came as an answer on the breeze, and the whole time Rocky was looking at me really worried. I went back to writing. Trying to focus on it solely. One of the Dwarves piped up and wanted to know what I was writing.

‘It’s a bit of…Just…writing. Rhymes. Just rhymes, nothing spectacular…’

My answer came haltingly. Rocky, still looking like a worried father… maybe older brother sort… looked like he was ready to cart me off to the closest healer. Even then he took the time to compliment.

‘Your rhymes -are- spectacular, Scarlett.’

I nodded to him. It was then that I realized the Mask was there.

‘Scarlett is a talented poet, Doldar.’

He said to the Dwarf, who then looked at me and asked if I was a bard. I said something wry, but it was a yes acknowledgement. He said some thing about bards being singers… and not hearing a note… and I started to answer.

‘Not all artists are--’

I can’t even remember what I would have said then. Either way the compliments and conversation were both lost as an icy hand rest on my shoulder and a whisper graced my ear.

‘Bard? Must mean -Harlot-.’

I couldn’t hear the others. What little order left to my thoughts were slowly falling apart. She laughed cruelly at my sudden silence. After a few moments, I managed to recover.

‘Sorry… I don't sing anymore.’

‘Oh, that to bad lass. Bet ya were a heck of a singer.’

He was being genuinely kind. Still, it was hard to consider.

‘Not really.’

My voice sounded flat and hollow. I could still hear her laughing. Finally the laughing stopped and her voice urged me in that sickeningly sweet way she used to when she was short on coin and too rotted from opiates to please Anders… That disgusting wench. All I was to her was a damned fix.

‘Sing for them, Songbird… maybe they will pay extra for the tumble.’

I blinked as for the third time my quill rest on the blank page and bled red ink all over the bleached parchment.

‘Maybe you need to get some rest, Scarlett’

I shook my head at Rocky. Last thing I wanted was sleep. The others talked and carried on like all was well. I was ice cold. I could have been warmer stark naked in the Cloudpeaks. Her voice came again as I tried to resume writing. At this point I had lost count of how many times I had tried. I worked my mind around a rhyme in defiance:

The birds have taken wing
Now they refuse to sing
Free among the clearer skies
Safe away from prying eyes
Not to be bound to any cage
Nor to be doomed to cruel stage

‘Keep doodling… maybe one day you'll convince yourself you are more than a murdering harlot.’

I continued. Even as I recited what I wrote for those present… I felt the luster fall from my voice. The words didn’t feel beautiful anymore… not the way they were supposed to. The rhyme did not give me courage or finality. None of the usual comfort I so often found.

Still this whisper of the past
These shadows will not last
Dead and gone the past remains
Though against all reason it strains
Let the past now fall to ashes gray
That which at last has burned away

‘Ashes… ashes… past falling away… sorry, Songbird, it isn't that easy.’

I snapped the book shut in frustration.

‘Stop Calling Me That!’

Even as I apologized for my outburst and tried to assure everyone that I was alright. She called out to me from all sides… above me even like she stood over me…

‘Songbird, Songbird, Songbird…’

It was dizzying. Nauseating. Then it stopped suddenly. From right in front of me. As though she stood there and leaned over… I could almost smell her breath laced with opiates… the smoke of Black Lotus the very scent of the toxin permeating all she was… and it was right there in front of me. I couldn’t see a thing… but I knew the face she wore. How she hated me. Only cared so far for whatever profit I would bring… because that meant her next fix.

‘And such a pretty girl too.’

I closed my eyes. I prayed for a place to hide. Some place safe.

‘Lady guard me…’

Rocky offered to see me to an inn. Get me a room… even offered to pay for it. I know he was only trying to be nice. But I just knew what she would say. Her crude remarks. She’d have a blast terrorizing me about it. I wouldn’t get peace. Especially not if it came from the pocket of a man. I would not be her harlot. So I told him no. He accepted the answer, though he didn’t like it. What could I have said? No I don’t want your help Rocky because my mother will expect gold for it… and probably won’t leave me alone until we share a bed? Yes. Would go over about as well as sticking Rith with a dozen Orc and telling her to serve them tea. Still, they continued to ask if I was alright. So I offered a feeble answer.

‘Just my mind … playing tricks. Nothing to worry about. Probably bad wine.’

‘The -wine-?! You hardly had two sips back at the Tavern.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, pretty girl… I wonder how they'd feel if they knew?’

My stomach turned. She giggled again.

‘Maybe they could find out…Maybe I'll tell him…’

She continued to taunt and tease as Rocky continued to try to talk me into some sort of rest or help. I could barely think straight.

‘No.’

She giggled in delight. I eyed the two nearest me. Closest I would dare consider friends in a while.

‘But why not? Isn't the truth important?’

‘Rocky and Whiskey know… some of it… you aren't going to scare them away.’

‘Mmmm… I think it is. He may not like you after that… none of them, if they knew it all…’

I looked at the others and gathered my things.

‘I need a walk.’

‘A walk? How delightful!’

I didn’t even wait for responses. I didn’t even look to see if they followed. I walked away… I know you taught me to respect the gods, sis. I prayed. I prayed and I ran. There was no escaping it. She followed.

‘Go Away.’

‘I can’t, Songbird, you saw to that.’

Her tone was cold malice.

‘I didn't see to anything! You chose to stay as Anders' little harlot for more Lotus! Like you ever cared more for me than what I could bloody earn you. I am not your gods damned Songbird!’

‘Yes, you are… and you were so good at it.’

‘Shut -Up-!’

‘But it is so boring… and I owe you -soooo- much, my dear.’

I stumbled down the road. I wasn’t sure where I expected to go. I found the normal dangers of the road upon me too quickly. If only because I was slow to switch from bow to blade and back… because I couldn’t focus. Because every muscle was stiff as a board… Lame Wyverns moved with more grace… No doubt any other travelers on the roads thought me ill or mad or both as I screamed at the wind.

‘Don’t you dear me you wench! You sold me off, I gave you the choice to leave, and you chose to stay strung up on your damned opiates. It isn’t my fault you chose to let yourself get burned to--’

‘I imagine Anders misses you. He enjoyed you so much. Ahhh… I wonder if there is a way to tell him? Wouldn't that be sweet?’

‘Anders can rot! Rot!’

I felt her hand on my cheek.

‘I doubt he'll rest until he finds you, his favorite.’

A particularly nasty group of ruffians thought to make quick work of me. I barely managed the presence of mind to make myself unseen by way of spell. Not before they had banged me up pretty fairly. I hobbled to an outcropping of rocks that leaned away from the road in such a way that they would shelter me for a few minutes. I applied some bandages clumsily. It wasn’t far to Beregost. I had gone too far to turn back. If I could get to Beregost and sleep this off…

‘Mist and Shadow… That bastard will never touch me again. None of you will.’

I continued forward slowly.

‘I think he will. After all, he enjoyed you so much, I doubt he will stop.’

I shuddered at the thought. As bad as things were… I knew he would find a way to make it worse if he ever did find me. I wasn’t ready. He couldn’t yet. I needed more time… Another group of bandits caught me off guard. Fortunately, I was sprinting distance to Beregost at that point.

‘He will stop when he is dead… and I will do a better job with him than with you.’

She laughed as I entered Feldepost’s and got a key for a room.

‘Are you sure? You obviously couldn't even get that right.’

‘Call it learning from past mistakes.’

I retorted, seemingly to nothing as I stumbled up the stairs. I was in bad need of a healer… but I tried to bandage them myself. I struggled to breathe. None the less I got myself patched up as best I could.

‘Have you wondered how it feels? Or ever thought to think about it?’

What little in me remained that wasn’t frozen solid… I tried to muster a retort, but I was numb… dizzy. My mind struggled against it… and I was losing.

‘I could show you…’

Her insidious whisper came from so near my ear that it gave me goose bumps. It was a brief flash. Brief and agonizing. I yelp in surprise at the sudden flames and pain. They stopped a moment. I felt like I was suffocating.

‘Ahh… you liked the touch? How about more?’

‘No I…Look I gave you the choice to leave! Told you what I was going to do--’

I could fill the page with all the words the world has given pain… there are so many ways to hurt. It was so much… so real. Every breath I tried to take seared. I could feel it…Gods could I feel every lick and caress of flame.

‘Stop it…’

It was almost pleading.

‘No.’

I writhed. I couldn’t stand. I felt my blood boiling… my flesh… I was going to die. Gods I was going to die, sis… and it couldn’t happen quick enough. They stopped again. I convulsed in the floor, looking at my own skin disbelievingly. It didn’t look burned. Nothing is as it seems. I protested weakly.

‘Gods! leaving me to… those bastards just so you could… get your next fix… isn't enough! You have… to play games …once you are… dead? What the …Hells kind of… mother are… you?!’

‘The one you BURNED!’

She screamed at me as the flames slowly began again… Beyond what words could measure. Still I struggled against it.

‘I gave …you t-the blo…ody choice-- to leave…Hated you… but… Still--- gave y… you…’

I could smell my own flesh burning. It was a gods awful smell, Seraphim. I collapsed to the floor.

‘You didn't tell me -what- you were going to do, Songbird… and you could have dragged me out… but you didn't…’

‘You could have -loved- me!’

I screamed as I tried desperately to find some solace from the flames. I cried… I don’t know if there were no tears, or if they boiled away instantly.

‘I told you … I was going to-- destroy all of it… and if you didn't leave… you could d-d-die in your own filth…’

I was barely conscious. I could hear Rocky. He had followed? I tried to call for help but my tongue felt burned up and withered in my mouth… my throat full of ash. I begged. My thoughts begged… I wanted her to stop, and still I burned. I must have managed some sort of outcry. Next I knew Rocky was there… the door smashed. The flames stopped. Rocky looked more than worried now… he looked terrified. She laughed full of spite and malice.

‘Ahh… here comes the hero, Songbird…Sing him a song, give him a tumble, and he'll be yours forever…’

I was vaguely aware of Rocky speaking… though what he said exactly, I could not be sure. I could hear her leaving. Calling for Anders with that grating voice of hers. I was vaguely aware of talking to Rocky. I spoke out against her again… and was rewarded with more flame. He carried me to the temple… Even that was painful. I had reached a point were there was no ‘level of pain’. It was all just -pain-. I wasn’t aware of anything but that pain… so consuming.

The priest did something to alleviate it some. There were questions, and I tried to answer them. Rocky was trying hard to be calming. Mostly all I could manage was to cry. The rebellious and venomous side of me regretted letting her die in her opiate haze, immune to most of the pain, if not all of it. As much as she had hated me in life… she hated me more in death.

‘Not this easily, my sweet little girl… not this easily…’

The flames burned anew. Darren and the priest jumped back at first.

‘Please… Just make her go away… Lady… please still these illusions…’

I remember nothing else clearly until the priest had finished his work. Finally the flames and her voice abated. I felt soothing coolness over power the pain. It was discussed what to do. Rocky would do some research at the library, the priest would search the temple texts. For the night I would be allowed to remain at the temple to sleep. I was so exhausted I could have slept standing up. Instead I was given a couple of pillows. I should have fallen right to sleep, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t rhyme… I couldn’t sleep… I was too tired to move. So I am writing all of this now, Seraphim. If I ever needed you to look out for me, sis… Now. Gods it is now…

The poet in me cannot help but marvel. I am much less the metaphorical phoenix that I was… I have walked through fire again… and been reformed again… Well the priests are insisting I try to rest… I guess I should try. Maybe when thought has settled some… I will feel more myself.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY EIGHT]

Hells. Four people. Four people of five who know the truth that are alive. Not exactly the fortress I had planned. Feels less safe than I thought it would too… Gods sis! What the hells am I doing? I’ve got a pretty face and a few pretty words. On one hand, Rocky. He looks out for me the way you did. Well… he is a little less nice about it… But what do you expect for a pile of rocks? Least he means well. I really wonder how much trouble I’d have been in to have a brother like that looking out for me. Least then we could have split before my darling mother decided to sell me off for a quick fix.

On the same side… I think. Is Whiskey, who hates Anders on principle, and best I can figure doesn’t seem to care for my dear mother either. Same could be said for Platinum… Though I may be in a sling for the whole murder, arson, lying and scheming bit. Goddess too… she seems by default, on the same side as Whiskey. She is a bit … temperamental though. Mind you, Rocky doesn’t trust a single one of them… but there isn’t much choice. If this goes bad… really bad… I need a good blade and somebody with enough pull to keep me out of trouble. I have got to be careful. This is a whole different game now, and I am calling fewer shots than I care to admit.

On the other hand is Anders. He flat out said that he would hunt me down and show me just how good I had it before. I don’t dare doubt it, because you and I both know, sis, that the bastard doesn’t bluff. Sure… I could have taken just what I needed to get out. Could have left the Dive and the girls and never looked back… But it hardly seemed fair. We all hated it. That place was Rot. Filth. Did the world a favor burning it down. Got those that wanted out away, and those smart enough to leave gone. I did the right thing…even if it wasn’t the -right- thing to do. May have damned myself in all this… but I have to try at least. The rest doesn’t matter so much, as long as I don’t let you down, Seraphim.

Done is done though, and I didn’t. Least I had you. Made the rot bearable. Bastards that they were. So mother dearest is angry. Sure I gave her reason enough. Does anyone stop to think who slighted who first? No, of course not. I mean sure… I let her get so full of Black Lotus that she was practically dead first, -then- I set the bloody Dive on fire. May have only slightly inconvenienced her self-destructive cycle of addiction and human debasement before she sold me off. May have hated every moment I spent in that Dive because of her… but I did what the hells I had to, what I was bloody told. Gods know… you know what it was like when we didn’t…

Sure. Thanks mother dear. Thanks for leaving me to fend for myself while you harlotd yourself to every back alley pile of rot for coin, just so you could spend it… not on the daughter you left in some filth-ridden hole… but on more poisons than were worth counting. Thanks for deciding I was prettier than your used up self, and selling me to Anders. Thanks for turning me into a bloody harlot. Thanks for teaching me everything you bloody knew. Thanks for splitting the coin that my pretty face earned you, with Anders so he could fund his rotted life, and you could fund your equally rotted habit.

Sure. Thanks for telling me every day how much better I had it than some random street walker. Yeah because a well taken care of harlot gets better coin. Thanks. Really. From the bottom of my sodding heart. Sorry I disappointed you by trying to make myself something better… something -I- wanted. Sorry you were a useless, rotted, sack of bones. Sorry you are dead and all… especially since Dead isn’t enough to keep you from totally -messing everything the bloody hells up!- Because, I mean… it isn’t like you haven’t messed up enough of my life.

Now I am stuck hiding in temples at night and wondering what the hells I am supposed to do next. Trusting more people than I have trusted in my whole life. Hoping that once this rot is dealt with… there are still enough people on the side of a murdering harlot to stop the boss from collecting. I won’t go back to being some plaything for every pile of Rot in Waterdeep. Bastards. There are enough low-life, no account, piles of rot like my dear mother… they don’t need to -make me- do a gods-damned thing. Besides I -can- make something better of it.

Anders is definitely no longer my biggest problem. Like Whiskey says, he can be killed. Mother dearest is already dead. I really should have paid better attention to your ghost stories, sis. The ones where they always faced their inner demons and fears, banished the evil spirits and lived happily ever afterwards. I stopped believing in happy endings… may not go like your stories, Seraphim… Which sort of scares me. I have a promise to keep.

Which means I better do as they suggest and focus. Seems you still are looking out for me sis. Been through some tough scraps, but this one takes the prize. That’s alright though. Don’t worry. I made a promise, only one I ever really made, and I will keep it. Just got to deal with… whatever this is. Mother dearest. You know me, sis. Hard to back down from a challenge. Seeing as if I do, it means that pile of rot that gave birth to me is right… well… No. I will get through this somehow, and I will keep my promise. We can see what comes after that.

Talk about the past coming back to haunt you… I am just a little worried about the whole truth bit. However, the way I see it… those that can be the most help right now, aren’t going to take too kindly to lies. As it stands right now, I have enough trouble. I just hope my trust isn’t misplaced. Damn it all! Worked so hard to get myself out from under someone else’s thumb, and if these folks decide to turn on me, I can’t do a damned thing about it. At least it still beats Waterdeep. Is it really so wrong to want to be safe… just once? Well if it is, I don’t care any more. I may be damned for living as I had to… So help me… before I die, I’ll live how I want to. Maybe some day they will see more than a murdering harlot… But I won’t hold my breath.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY TWENTY-NINE]

‘Can you dance Maeve?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Maeve. Isn’t that your -real- name? Sorry thought I overheard your -mother-…’

I looked at her and raised a brow. She spat out the word mother with nearly as much hate as I felt.

‘Oh. Yeah. That’s it.’

‘Never forget it… even if you never use it again. Don’t let them remake you. I’m Scarlett.’

She offered me a quirky smile. Bad as things had been the last few days, she offered a bit of solace. I drank it up the way a soul in the hells would sip water… I relished it.

‘I know a few waltzes…’

I was still so shy and quiet then. It seemed … strange to think that was who I was. She smiled again and took my hand. She weaved her way through the mass of bodies and clouds of toxin laden smoke. Back to a small corner, quartered off and quiet. Away from the buzz and filth of the Dive. She motioned for me to sit down.

‘No silly. I mean -dance- not movement. Thoughts… … I’ll take your confused silence as a ‘no’.’

She regarded me for a few moments.

‘Thoughts, Maeve. Our minds. Our spirits. They can take our bodies… maybe our sanity eventually… probably our lives. They can’t touch our souls if we don’t let them. They can’t break us if we out-step them.’

‘I used to write poems…’

She grinned.

‘Used to? You shouldn't have stopped. Never let them take your creativity from you. I like to sing, myself. I heard you sing. You’ve a good voice. You should sing more often. It will make you feel better some.’

‘I don’t like singing for them… I don’t like… any of it.’

The grin turned sympathetic. She tilted my chin up so I was looking at her.

‘Sure you don’t, sugar. None of us do. I’d like to tell you it can’t get worse… but truth is, they are going easy on you because you are new. Going to have to find something to focus on. Going to have to learn to dance… Teach the body to go through the motions and the mind to wander to safer places.’

I looked at her confused.

‘Look, Maeve. Poetry is good. It has a definite rhythm. It requires focus. Next time? Let the words distract you. It’ll make it… well… maybe not better… but it gives you something to do.’

I nodded. It was a horrid thought. Rhyme your way through the Rot… The first of many such lessons and conversations over eight years. It did help… wasn’t easy at first… like everything else we did, it got easier. The lies got easier too… the smiles… the pretty words and the batting eye lashes… blushing on command, a giggle here a wiggle there, as mother dear would say. Seraphim’s lessons fit between mother’s lessons. She taught me to lie. To hide myself away from them… untouchable. Mother taught me to be a harlot… my sister taught me to live, to survive.

Occasionally she would pass me in the halls, between tasks. She would smile at me and sing the most beautiful waltzes. Of course I would sing along. I used to love to sing… Perhaps that is why I kept my poetry from everyone but her?

‘Oh… No one told me you could sing, girl.’

I froze and turned to the sneering pile of waste behind me. I hadn’t meant to be heard.

‘A little Songbird. They pay extra for that you know?’

He called over his shoulder as he grabbed me by the arm.

‘Hey Anders! Anders! Pixie here has been holding out on us. She can sing.’

I glared at Cale.

‘Oh can she now?’

He sneered and looked to my mother.

‘You didn’t tell me she could sing.’

My mother looked at me, a flash of surprise, but then she masked it.

‘Ah well… it must have slipped my mind. Thinking about you and all.’

She gave him such a sickeningly sweet smile. Anders response was to slap her so hard she reeled. Not that I felt sorry for her. Of course she didn’t know I could sing. She barely knew me. Apart from what I was worth to her… she didn’t even care. She then looked at me. I knew that slap would come back to haunt me… she would make me suffer for it later. She always did. For now, she just gave me that sickeningly sweet little smile, her voice dripped with honey-laden acid.

‘Well? Sing for them, Songbird… Sing them a pretty song.’

I glared at my mother and Anders. Then I tried to jerk free from Cale.

‘Oho! I don’t think so you little wench!’

He twisted my arm enough to make me yelp as he drew me close and whispered. His breath made me want to wretch. His -touch- made me want to flay my own skin. Little was left to imagination at his thoughts… Filthy pile of sodding rot! He could suffer eternally and still die to quickly!

‘Sing like a good little girl and maybe you will get some sleep tonight hmm?’

Of course… he never intended to allow that to happen. None of them did. And when Anders got bored with mother… well… He’d settle for the next best thing. Even the singing on command got easier. To pour your heart and soul into a love song you didn’t believe… Takes work, but sometimes they would pay for the song and the tumble they never took and moved on. Worked for me. Singing for them was only marginally less revolting than other things… but I’d take what little peace I could find.

Seraphim and Songbird. The only two harlots at the Dive who could sing. We became a sort of commodity. Sometimes we would both be asked to sing together. She had the voice of an angel… mine wasn’t that good, but it complimented her own well. Improvised and impromptu performances… one cueing the other with a simple hand gesture. Gestures and body movements that, while seductive in appearance, cued notes or words or thoughts. We danced.

Our words danced… our movements… our thoughts… our souls… Somewhere above the rot, an angel carried a bird. Our wings were broken, and we wept in the rain to hide our tears… but we Soared! We survived on dreams they couldn’t touch. On poetry and song, dancing… If there was anything to miss… it was the dancing. It was a different sort of dance between kindred sisters than it was between those we flirted with, fought with, bargained and pleaded with. It wasn’t a dance of wit where I fought to keep the upper hand… It was something graceful. Equals, not dancing opposite each other… but -together-.
~~

Strange sister, how these thoughts are what I cling to now. My will to see this promise kept pushes me forward. My fury over every wrong they slighted us with… Teach the body to move while the mind is else where… Some place safe. She can burn me to the ground and I will still stand back up. I will obliterate her. I am the phoenix, sister. As you dance between the moon beams and guard our stars… Help me soar, and I won’t fail you.
~~

It was somewhere over the raging pain that touched every inch of my body, and Rocky’s insistence that someone do something… and the words of those near by… that I realized something.

Blocking her away with spells only delays the inevitable. This will not be easy. This is just one more thing I need to dance through. Rocky was a little upset he couldn’t do much to help. I don’t think that pile of Rocks understands just how helpful he really is.

Mother’s little tantrum lead to some interesting conversations… when the pain subsided enough I could concentrate on more than her words. Then I tried to sleep a bit. Sleep always was overrated. I better stick to naps. Just like Waterdeep, but considerably less rot between naps… Gods what I wouldn’t give to feel safe… just once.

‘What in the Nine Hells do you want?!’

‘You. Your pain. Your despair, and oh so much more…’

Her giggle faded… the pain finally faded… but there was something there that tickled the fringes of my exhausted mind. A man’s laugh. Anders. Was I delusional? I mean more than I thought? Was it a trick? Anders is alive… or was when I left him behind me on the road. Screaming his foul promises as the wagons set off as fast as my gold… his gold… and the horses could carry them. Mother was dead… so how was I hearing -both of them- unless the status of one or the other had changed in the last few months? I thought I heard a man the first time too, but I dismissed it. I didn’t know what was going on, but I meant to find out. I will be damned if these bastards are going to help themselves to any more of my existence than they already have… and I will be Hells bent for them to take any of it without a gods damned fight.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY THIRTY]

Sometimes I wonder what possesses people. The sheer depth of stupidity amazes me… If you anger a tiger, expect to get your head bit off. It shouldn’t be a surprise. I mean I am even nice. NICE. ME. Yes Me, sis. Don’t laugh. I warn them first. More than once even. Don’t worry Seraphim. I have never thrown the first punch. Hells! I haven’t had to lift a finger most of the time. There is a decent number of them willing to do the hard work. I probably shouldn’t tug at their strings, but it is hardly wrong when they give you the strings and ask you to pull. They make it -so- easy. It’s really almost sad. Either way, it turns out well mostly. Often times I take care of an irritation, and make a new friend in the process.

Lately? Been observing the local lawmen. Way I figure it? Best to stay on the right side of as many of them as I can. Anders didn’t run with the nicest crowds. Bloody Hells, he ran with the rot that made the guttersnipes cringe. Things go bad, and I want as many of the good guys on my side as I can manage. I won’t go back, Seraphim. I won’t. Besides mixing with all the different sorts, a good test of wit. I enjoy the dancing. The game, the wit, the words… To speak and be heard, or to just converse with someone worth talking to. Haven’t had that kind of wit since you died, sis. It’s been nice.

Shared the camp with a songstress too. I think she is blind… but she can sing. Not as good as you can of course, sis… But good. I gave her that old flute that you gave me, the one I never got to learn to play… Sodding bastards. If they hadn’t killed you… Well, no sense in letting it go unused. I remember how you used to play it… and it sounded lovely. An instrument like that deserves to sound lovely. Besides. She probably earns her living with her songs. Seemed only fair to offer something, since she and I traded words.

So I charm a few here and there, work myself into the good graces of a few others. At this rate… I should be safe… enough. If I could just get dear ol’ mum to stay the Hells out of things. Had a few drinks with some Fist Mercenaries just back from Chult. Not a bad group. Mostly just drinks and conversation. Comes in handy though… Maybe. After all that, I got a room and called it a night.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY THIRTY-ONE]

Spent the majority of the day around the campfire. The tiefling was there. Still have no idea what her actual name is, but it amuses me greatly to call her Sweetling. Words. It is all words. So long as I keep the upper hand… Testing the waters so to speak. How badly she wants this book! Part of me felt bad for tugging strings. I had to know though. What she is willing to do for the book… and if it is that important that a few veiled threats to destroy it had her dancing at -my- whim… Then I need to be careful. Very careful. It became a game of sorts, and I relished it.

Perhaps I was cruel. I know she wouldn’t hesitate to torment me, had she the chance. Indeed I didn’t doubt she deserved it. To have her haughty pride stepped upon. She came to no overall harm… In fact a twist and tug here and there actually -kept- her from too much trouble with the damned Fist. Some people not only fail to understand the value of well placed words… but the value of well placed -silence-. I can’t have her dying yet… or getting her stupid self killed. She may yet be useful.

A delicate balance though… I know she seeks to use me in turn. Perhaps she can return the favor to me in kind… and I have no doubt she will try. All the more reason why I must mind my words and keep what little ground I have. That I am her -way- to this book she seeks, is my saving grace. Had I the book itself… the game would be much more dangerous. She’d dance at my urgings yes… Which means she would not hesitate to slight me, kill me, whatever she had to do to get to it. For now though… a line is drawn that neither of us will cross.

I did apologize for being cruel… and have toned down a bit. Not because I fear her wrath, but because I can continue our game without cruelty. I became those I hate so. She seemed to accept the apology… if only for her own amusement. Regardless of what she sees it as, my conscience is clear. Any tugging I do on her strings will be for her benefit so long as it benefits me… For now the appearance of the game is as important of the game itself… For now… we dance.

The game, as much fun as it was, was drawn to a pause with the arrival of a different sort of game altogether…

‘Careful, dear gentles. There is a demonic thing amongst you.’

‘Now, I know Scarlett is a mean, hateful shrew, but I wouldn't go as far to say -demonic-…’

Rhamea was quick on the wit today. -Lord- Weston, was of course referring to the tiefling… at least the one I was stringing along if not her and Rhamea. Gregor and Rhamea are always kind enough to propagate my hateful mask. Makes for good humor and keeps most at a safe distance. Most.

Sebastian was different. Thinly veiled advances left nothing to the imagination… He was the type that relished the chase. Whether or not his arrogance is justified remains to be seen. He is both a pleasant match of wit and a welcome diversion. An amusement. A wealthy amusement no less. Seeing as our dinner last time was interrupted by business, and in need of some cheering up… I thought it couldn’t hurt to try again. So I shifted masks ever so subtly, leaving one dance partner at the close of one song…

‘Don't worry, dove. I have it leashed.’

I grinned maliciously at her, and only threats kept her from killing me I think… before flashing a pretty smile at Sebastian.

‘But I have played long enough… and I think you still owe me dinner.’

‘I do indeed.’

I took the hand he offered, turning an icy smile on Sweetling.

‘I will know if you don't behave. I don't want to burn that book one page at a time.’

‘You wou--’

‘I would… and you know it -Sweetling-, so play nice…’

‘No dear, no. I shall behave.’

A bit more banter with the others and I turned my attention to the new game, quite literally at hand. We made our way to the Helm and Cloak. How alike we are, in that we play the same game with the intent to win. The nature of the game is different for each opposing side… but neither of us are willing to allow for defeat. Both of us claim an unfailing winning streak, and each of us relish in the game, the challenge the other presents.

I left him to plot his own strategy as I plotted mine. Which is to say he ordered dinner and I washed up. He is a fascination. A challenge. An opposition that I am used to. A game on slightly more familiar ground. Still, after tonight, he has proven a very intelligent dancer. Which only adds to the luster of the challenge. The banter of the evening… carefully chosen words. Lines drawn, words sharp… Each waiting for the eventual moment when one would land the ‘killing’ blow… Neither willing to back down. It is beautiful. Really it is. Such a lovely and destructive thing.

‘It seems you've quite the fan base.’

‘The world is full of hopeless dreamers…’

‘It is your supposition that dreamers are hopeless?’

‘Of course not… just certain dreams.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Now, wouldn't you like to unravel that bit of enigma?’

‘I do so like to unwrap surprises.’

‘I am so sure… But some things are not meant to be unwrapped. Only to adorn briefly… it takes one truly worthy of such -gifts-. I am no prize to be had, sir.’

‘Oh, trust me. I know full well. I do try to admire and enjoy each gift I've ever been given for a long, long while.’

I let the thinly glossed implication pass.

‘Mostly? These hopeless dreamers… They enjoy the poetry.’

‘I do so enjoy performances Poetry is a specialty of mine as well.’

‘Oh? How convenient.’

‘Have you ever participated in a poets duel?’

‘I haven't… there have been competitions, but I have participated merely to share my thoughts with another and see what thoughts land on the minds of the audience.’

‘Well. The winner of a coin flip determines the topic. The loser utters the first line of the poem about it. The winner responds with a rhyming line until there is nothing else to say. The last line wins.’

Same partner… new song. This was to be a new dance. I looked on, wryly amused, as he flipped a coin.

‘Heads or tails, dear Scarlett?‘

‘Tails.’

‘Oh dear. Tails. It seems I've lost. No matter. Any man can lose a coin toss.’

‘Any topic?‘

‘It is your choice.’

‘Dreams.’

Ah but this was more than a dance. A politician of sorts… and a poet. In all the world perhaps only politicians can rival artists… and yet there was more to it than that. So began, that the game took on a new face. How brilliant it was.

Dreams are, when heeded, rarely as we'd hoped…

The true test of a dream is with its realization, how we coped…
Fleeting as they are, we refuse to let them go…

For if we do not try we'll never know….
So blessed be the dreamer's happy curse…

As they wander through them all, for better or for worse…
Clinging to a gentle moment, rare, not to be lost…

For casting hope aside's to great a cost…
When dreamers gain some peace in fortune's breast…

Often it is stolen as silently they rest…
Dreamscape, a wondrous place of sorrow and of mirth…

They were rambling rhymes… that slowly turned from poetry for the sake of art… to Debate. Not just dreams as they are, but the inherent worth of them. An argument. In verse. We were not paying such close attention to the meter of the verses, just making our own subtle points. A delicate dance, a dangerous one…

The home of every art and pleasure's birth….
Where every cloud's long silver lining shows…

Or does it serve as a reminder, adapting pain as it goes?
Perhaps in time this dreamer can see through shadow into light…

Throw caution to the wind and you'll take flight…
Unfurl, then, your chained and stifled wings…

Wounds best left forgotten, this heart no longer sings…
Where once an angel walked, demons run instead…

But Demons fall when wishful dreams be fed…
It strike's as odd, this cynic mind, that dreamer argues still…

But alas, to a fault, dreamers often will…
Logic leaves no room for such, the dreamer must survive…

Confess the cynic: he dreams that dreams does thrive…
For the dreamer, wearing caution's armor and cynical mask…

With but a gesture of his hand. The debate took a very personal turn.

Some we're meant to see, but in such things ne'er to bask…
This gentle dreamer often finds more pain in one unguarded moment…

Though met her match, in an unrelenting new opponent…
I make dreams come true, my dear, worry ye not…

I could either admire his confidence or despise his arrogance… After all, the line between the two was thin.

Ah but sir, This dreamer knows through battles in past fought…
That dreams can shatter quickly once the happy ending's won…

Happy ending, nay. The happy beginning’s more the fun…
Dreams are the goal, BUT! in the struggle lies the prize…

A dream is still tricky, even happy beginnings fade before our eyes…
I have no time for flitting things, no matter how you try…

Flitting things, though brief are--

He stopped… I smiled as he swirled the wine in his glass.

‘I fear that we could wax upon this subject all night and never persuade each other, dear… It is not words that will bring one of us around to the other's point of view.’

‘There are some battles not even words can win.’

And some battles that are not to be won at all… I am not a prize to be had… He will see. He will see or he will fall to the broken-hearted wayside like the others.

‘I've not rhymed. You've won if you can finish off the poem with a rhyme. However. I am making it a personal mission during my time here to make you cast aside inhibition and relish life as the reward it is.’

‘It hardly counts. You let me win. I will expect rematch when you've the want to finish what you start.’

I gave him a wry grin as I finished the poetic debate.

This Phoenix is not easily won, too many tears did she cry…
But perhaps it is yet still too soon, the battle lost to each…
To sign this symmetry done, an ending out of reach…

We applauded lightly, each respecting the other, as artists are want to do. Each well aware of the challenge ahead… Neither willing to lose.

‘A toast then, my dire phoenix. Might I inspire in you, that which you inspire in others while denying yourself.'

‘So long as you realize sir… she does not wish to be caged again.’

‘I cage nothing, lest I be caged.’

‘To Dreams and Dreamers alike then…’

We raised our glasses and drained our wine. With that, the song had ended… the dance done for now.

‘It has been my pleasure.’

‘Likewise.’

‘I fear our lamb has not come.’

As if on cue as he brushed the wrinkles from his attire, a call from the kitchen, about the relishes and meats and cheeses we had been munching on throughout the course of the evening…

"I thought you only ordered nibbles!"

His mischievous grin gave away his game… though I would imagine it was no accident.

‘A very clever gambit, sir… but I do accept the challenge.’

‘Tsk tsk, my dear. You've no idea who's challenge you accept.’

He pulled out a holy symbol of the Red Knight. Grandmaster of the Lanceboard… how could I not have guessed… and even then I was hardly surprised.

‘I will relish a worthy opponent. For in that, a victory befitting me.’

He slid two coins across the table, one whose faces were both heads… and another whose faces were both tails. I was pleased. A very clever dancer.

‘My Lady would be pleased by your clever deception.’

‘Do you remember the question I posed earlier? Which dreams? I think I have all my answers. I do so like unwrapping surprises.’

‘Maybe you do… but the Lady guards even a wounded Phoenix.’

‘You are guarded. Blessings upon you, dreamer. I look forward to the next act.’

‘Indeed.’

He left with all the flourish one would expect of such sorts. I drained one more glass of wine. My thoughts my own, as I waited for as long as was properly expected, before I made my way from the establishment, to my room at the Blade and Stars.

It matters not where or when I try to rest. To sleep through the nightmares is a feat enough… And lately there is rapping on the door, scratching at the windows. I hear her giggle… and sometimes, I burn. She always stops just before my screams, muffled by the pillow, draws unwanted attention. I am but a dancer… and some dances are more deadly than others. Some songs… do not end swiftly enough.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[ENTRY THIRTY-TWO]

Today was a good day, as good days go. Rocky is being all emotional. I totally blame his perceived romance. Love is a dangerous illusion. Unfortunately I can’t save him from it, and it will destroy him. Poor Rocky. Still, it was a good day. There was laughter and wine… Dreams and rhyme. There was even chocolate.

Hells… all this philosophical damned cheer is contagious. Oh how easy they make it sometimes… to twist them. Rocky throws the empty wine bottle into the river, and for sport I decided to have some one fetch it for me. Fortunately for me, the poor fool was at least nice to look at dripping wet and half dressed. Toys, tools, shields… Men serve a purpose. Finally, I am the one being served… and not the one providing the -service-. Mother is disappointed of course that there is no physical gratification. I am content with mind games, and tugging on strings as I break hearts and leave them waiting. The thrill is the dance, whether mother sees it as such or not.

There was a bit of a stir to interrupt my musings when some idiot dragged some undead thing to the camp. It was swiftly killed again… and the necromancer dragged off to be dealt with in the more… official capacity. Which didn’t bother me much. Once it was over with and the dust and blood settled… I went back to my writing. Mother was silent today… and most of the night, which allowed me a bit of rest. So yes. A peachy day. Perfectly Peachy.
~~