Morning light filtered through the window in the small room Izira had taken up. Almost three weeks had gone by since she left her realm with no thought on returning. She had only wanted release, freedom from the plots of men that were too big to bother with giving her details. Kept at a distance all for what? Safety? The soft light played over her skin, flesh fitted tighter to her body than it had before she fled. Her right hand lifted closer to the window, wrapped in white bandages that were spotted with blood. More blood then there should have been, if she hadn?t been flexing it all night. Her fingers wiggled and only the slightest pain remained in the hand. Izira wondered how her hand looked under the dressing, but didn?t bother to remove it. Perhaps if she ran into? her mind fogged, the name dancing out of grasp. With effort she recalled after a while of thinking, Kacey. Not her actual name, a nickname. But that was the woman who bandaged her hand. There was something else that the woman had said, something about Izira going home. No, she was not going back there.
Silas was there, with his silence games. Alain was not there, but that village of his was. The thought of it prickled her skin with irritation. The thought of Alain made her teeth clench and anger filtered through her. He had been there last night, talking to some woman. Flirting. There was no remorse in his eyes, no care. Her gifts had gotten the better of her, breaking down the integrity of the glass she was holding in a death grip until it shattered under the pressure of her silent rage. He fled and was followed by yet another woman. Was it really all for her safety? She was starting to think not. When she could think, when her thoughts weren?t so fuzzy and hard to reach. Broken glass punctured her hand, pain only slightly rooting her thoughts in the moment. It had been unintentional. Perhaps a bottle would have been better. Perhaps a bottle wouldn?t have broken. Of a surety, a bottle would have kept the vodka tunneling into her system without need of pesky refills. That was the game. Drink enough that the liquor got ahead of the fire. Drink enough so she could actually feel it, for a moment at least. No luck.
Everything from the previous night felt distant, like a dream she was recalling from so many ages ago. There was a woman, Piper, who was friends with Eva? but how long had it been since Eva had been seen? Cassandra was there, offering tea and sage advice on what to do with the hand. Izira had ignored the tea, the advice wasn?t needed as the other woman had already started to tend to the hand. Could I hurt her? Izira had wondered of Cassandra. Would Alain have told her anything of us? Or did he keep his little secret well tucked away? No, hurting Cassandra would not make Izira feel any better. The lady had never done anything cruel to her. Izira knew she might have done worse in return. Of course, she was paying for it now, wasn?t she? Rena had also been through, but Izira hand was wrapped and she was ready to go. Not home, though. She was going back to The Great Helm to work a few hours into the night, catering to the slow gathering of dust upon unused surfaces.
It hadn?t happened that way, no quite. A man had come in. Vinny?of a reputation that did not precede him. He was friendly enough, mildly flirtatious. Izira didn?t like that he complimented her face and considered what damage she could do to it. It would be a pointless attempt, however. The scars would never stay. The other annoyance lingering at the back of her mind was that she still recalled being goaded by Pryce to throw a party at The Great Helm so as to bring more people in. That, on various levels, was not a task she wanted. It was also something she would do anyway, because business meant work? work meant a job? and having a job meant never having to go back to her realm again. She fixed Vinny his drinks, she gave a disinterested ear, and she drank water while waiting for her shift to end. It ended and she came back to her quiet little room in the city.
She felt the fire, so much of it once more, roaring within. The ice helped calm it, but not greatly. Izira knew it was only a matter of time before she started to completely lose her mind again. Blackouts, random fires, becoming a stranger to herself? how long until it all started to happen again? This time Izira would not look for a hero. This time Izira would handle it herself.
One way or another...
Lady Death would see things through.
Silas was there, with his silence games. Alain was not there, but that village of his was. The thought of it prickled her skin with irritation. The thought of Alain made her teeth clench and anger filtered through her. He had been there last night, talking to some woman. Flirting. There was no remorse in his eyes, no care. Her gifts had gotten the better of her, breaking down the integrity of the glass she was holding in a death grip until it shattered under the pressure of her silent rage. He fled and was followed by yet another woman. Was it really all for her safety? She was starting to think not. When she could think, when her thoughts weren?t so fuzzy and hard to reach. Broken glass punctured her hand, pain only slightly rooting her thoughts in the moment. It had been unintentional. Perhaps a bottle would have been better. Perhaps a bottle wouldn?t have broken. Of a surety, a bottle would have kept the vodka tunneling into her system without need of pesky refills. That was the game. Drink enough that the liquor got ahead of the fire. Drink enough so she could actually feel it, for a moment at least. No luck.
Everything from the previous night felt distant, like a dream she was recalling from so many ages ago. There was a woman, Piper, who was friends with Eva? but how long had it been since Eva had been seen? Cassandra was there, offering tea and sage advice on what to do with the hand. Izira had ignored the tea, the advice wasn?t needed as the other woman had already started to tend to the hand. Could I hurt her? Izira had wondered of Cassandra. Would Alain have told her anything of us? Or did he keep his little secret well tucked away? No, hurting Cassandra would not make Izira feel any better. The lady had never done anything cruel to her. Izira knew she might have done worse in return. Of course, she was paying for it now, wasn?t she? Rena had also been through, but Izira hand was wrapped and she was ready to go. Not home, though. She was going back to The Great Helm to work a few hours into the night, catering to the slow gathering of dust upon unused surfaces.
It hadn?t happened that way, no quite. A man had come in. Vinny?of a reputation that did not precede him. He was friendly enough, mildly flirtatious. Izira didn?t like that he complimented her face and considered what damage she could do to it. It would be a pointless attempt, however. The scars would never stay. The other annoyance lingering at the back of her mind was that she still recalled being goaded by Pryce to throw a party at The Great Helm so as to bring more people in. That, on various levels, was not a task she wanted. It was also something she would do anyway, because business meant work? work meant a job? and having a job meant never having to go back to her realm again. She fixed Vinny his drinks, she gave a disinterested ear, and she drank water while waiting for her shift to end. It ended and she came back to her quiet little room in the city.
She felt the fire, so much of it once more, roaring within. The ice helped calm it, but not greatly. Izira knew it was only a matter of time before she started to completely lose her mind again. Blackouts, random fires, becoming a stranger to herself? how long until it all started to happen again? This time Izira would not look for a hero. This time Izira would handle it herself.
One way or another...
Lady Death would see things through.