birthrightgreen: (memories can hurt)
birthrightgreen ([personal profile] birthrightgreen) wrote2005-10-31 02:01 pm
Entry tags:

Talk About Something You Did That Made You Feel Ashamed Of Yourself Afterwards.

Well I can tell you easily what it's not, sugar. It's not the men I've whored myself to. And let me tell you, there are those that would be ashamed. The things I've done to please a man, or let him do to me...well. There aren't many women that could stomach it. The humiliations. The pain sometimes. But I did it. And it's why I was the best. The most expensive whore in all of Terreille. Most men couldn't even meet my asking price.

I knew, the whole time, that I held their lives in my hands, and I took satisfaction from the fact that often, though not always, I ended those lives. But it's not the men I killed I'm ashamed of either. They were men who broke witches. Who used children. I never made a kill that wasn't justified by that. I was an assassin. Not a killer. There is a difference.

It's not...not the lovers I've taken, without payment, or that there have only been two. It's not even that I...that I left him, bags packed and didn't take a knife to him for his treachery.

All of that, and I know there are those who find much of it shameful. But I don't.

No. There's only been one time in my life when I was truly ashamed of myself.

The lover I didn't take. The lover I tried to take. I'd had too much wine and he was just too...if you've seen him you'd know. He breathes sex. He says your name and the world just focuses in on the sound of his voice. It's an art. It's a game. But he plays it better than any man ever to walk any of the three Realms. I was his friend. The person he didn't have to play the game with. His protege. His student. His family. The one person in all the Realms he could be himself with. How he would have been had Dorothea not gotten to him first.

And I tried to seduce him. I asked to have Hayll's Whore between my legs. To dance with the Sadist.

I danced with him all right. And I learned why women would beg for him and curse him to his death in one breath. He left me aching for days with an ache that's never quite erased itself from my memory, never quite been fulfilled. Our friendship changed. Ended almost for fifty years. He didn't trust me anymore. He wasn't Sadi. He was the Sadist and I flinched when I felt him walk through a Territory.

In fear. In sadness.

And in shame.