more slave!assassin
Aug. 3rd, 2007 07:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupwritten around 11:40 pm on the 30th of last month.
no prompt.
She doesn't remember life before the Noi. She can remember something green and lush like the Noi's personal gardens. She thinks that's why he never gives her his latest instructions there. When she is in that place, she can almost remember the sound of a brook gurgling by while she rests her head in a plush lap. She can almost taste the greenness on her tongue, deformed as it has become here, the heady flavor of a flower she cannot remember.
The Noi told her about one task there, and hasn't deigned to audience her there since. She was young; she knows it must've been the first time she'd come into the Noi's presence. That heavy scent suited the powerful man, lounging in luxurious robes and surrounded by natural splendor unlike the rest of his arid empire. In her awe, she heard the word 'kill;' 'safety;' she couldn't deny him.
She sealed her fate with obeying that order. She reflects on that time when she allows herself the weakness, and remembers what he said. How, when given the choice between the unforgivable sin of murder, or serving his carnal pleasures at whim, what was one more dead slave? She'd secured herself something more than an empty existence as a bed slave.
There are times when the memories of before and of the meeting with the Noi become the same memory. Her head is on his lap, and she's nearly choking on the aromatic flora around them as he tells her precisely how she can be safe. How she can best please her master. She shudders and wakes in a cold sweat when she dreams thus, though the room is stifling against her skin. She can see against the inky black of a moonless sky, the dark expanse to the north and west of the walls of the city. She's privileged with the knowledge of the citadel, the ins and the outs. She could run, she thinks, back to somewhere that jogs her memory. Back to the grasslands she can almost recall as home.
She takes a deep breath, lungs catching as the dusty air rattles around her ribcage. On the heels of that thought come others. The ineffective footwear of her station in life, meant for sneaking stealthily around city streets and not for sand dunes. The inhospitable heat of dual suns in the sky. Losing Dannaii. The Noi's anger--both at her disappearance and if she were to be caught. She shudders again, and lies back on the bead, fear and love and loathing holding her prisoner to this non-life.
She closes her eyes after a moment. Her lips move, forming words she doesn't even realize she's saying. "He is Master, and I am his tool. Whatever he commands, I obey. I serve at his pleasure. To serve means life. He is Master. I am a tool of his pleasure."
no prompt.
She doesn't remember life before the Noi. She can remember something green and lush like the Noi's personal gardens. She thinks that's why he never gives her his latest instructions there. When she is in that place, she can almost remember the sound of a brook gurgling by while she rests her head in a plush lap. She can almost taste the greenness on her tongue, deformed as it has become here, the heady flavor of a flower she cannot remember.
The Noi told her about one task there, and hasn't deigned to audience her there since. She was young; she knows it must've been the first time she'd come into the Noi's presence. That heavy scent suited the powerful man, lounging in luxurious robes and surrounded by natural splendor unlike the rest of his arid empire. In her awe, she heard the word 'kill;' 'safety;' she couldn't deny him.
She sealed her fate with obeying that order. She reflects on that time when she allows herself the weakness, and remembers what he said. How, when given the choice between the unforgivable sin of murder, or serving his carnal pleasures at whim, what was one more dead slave? She'd secured herself something more than an empty existence as a bed slave.
There are times when the memories of before and of the meeting with the Noi become the same memory. Her head is on his lap, and she's nearly choking on the aromatic flora around them as he tells her precisely how she can be safe. How she can best please her master. She shudders and wakes in a cold sweat when she dreams thus, though the room is stifling against her skin. She can see against the inky black of a moonless sky, the dark expanse to the north and west of the walls of the city. She's privileged with the knowledge of the citadel, the ins and the outs. She could run, she thinks, back to somewhere that jogs her memory. Back to the grasslands she can almost recall as home.
She takes a deep breath, lungs catching as the dusty air rattles around her ribcage. On the heels of that thought come others. The ineffective footwear of her station in life, meant for sneaking stealthily around city streets and not for sand dunes. The inhospitable heat of dual suns in the sky. Losing Dannaii. The Noi's anger--both at her disappearance and if she were to be caught. She shudders again, and lies back on the bead, fear and love and loathing holding her prisoner to this non-life.
She closes her eyes after a moment. Her lips move, forming words she doesn't even realize she's saying. "He is Master, and I am his tool. Whatever he commands, I obey. I serve at his pleasure. To serve means life. He is Master. I am a tool of his pleasure."
