Lover, Assassin, Witch....

I am generally a truthful sort. Oh, there are things I suppose I lie about, or used to, at least. My age. That I liked it when they -- fill in the blank with whatever you think a client might have done. That I didn't love the kill. That I didn't take pleasure in killing, though Sadi called me on that. I enjoyed the kill, yes, but I didn't kill for my own pleasure.

That I didn't find release in it. Have I said that out loud before? That sometimes the only peace I could find came in bloodshed. I can look back and tell the truth about that now, when I can find peace in so many other things.

But generally, I tell the truth. I've been called abrasive for it, for not sugar coating it. Unless you are a client or a mark, what you see is what you get, and as I don't have clients or marks anymore...well. This is me. Who I am at the core and I don't think there are lies so pervasive to warrant discussion on their own.

[Locked from Samael and my family]

Well, perhaps there is one.

Does it really count as a confession of a lie if I'm too cowardly to put it where anyone I lie for would see? But it's a lie for a good reason, and I wouldn't hurt them for the world, so it is best if it stays here, between us and away from them.

"I love him like a sister, or a cousin."

There is nothing...familial about my affections for him. There hasn't been since I was a child. I have always loved him since the first day he swept in and saved us, loved him as a woman, not a sister. I would have done nearly anything for him, if he'd just asked.

But it's not a truth I will ever tell him. Not a truth I will tell Jaenelle or Lucivar or Saetan. Because no matter how much I love him, he does not feel the same for me. And he is happy. He loves and is loved by someone so very much more worthy of him than I could ever be. And I love her so, as well. Why would I ever disrupt their happiness with my truth? To love is not a betrayal, and I loved him before she was born. I can't stop it now, but I'll keep lying about it because I don't want there to ever be a question of my loyalty to her. She is my Queen. She is Witch. She is my Sister. And my loyalty and love for her, for our family, goes deeper than any passion for Sadi.

Besides, I have Samael, now. And I love him so very much. A woman's passion, conceived as a woman, and chosen deliberately, through trouble and trials, instead of a child's adoration deepened over time into something more heated and desperate.

It's different that what I feel for Sadi, but no less deep. I finally have a chance to have that love with someone. To have a family and a home of my own. To be the center of someone's world. This is how it should be. How it is. And I am happy.

Why would I let a truth out that could disrupt all of that?

I'm not sure about the "intentionally making a fool of myself" bit, but I did what I did intentionally and knew I looked a fool doing it, so I'm going to say it's my journal and that's how I'm interpreting the question.

It was shortly after Winsol. I was still contemplating the move to Amdarh, still not sure what to do about Samael, about Daemon, about...anything really. I'd wrapped the gifts in paper that I bought in New York, a city in the other Realm, other world. Something to share of what I'd seen with my family.

It had snowmen on it, and I was intrigued. It's not that children in Kaeleer and Terreille don't make snowpeople. They do. Beautiful ones. But I never got the chance. Not much snow in the slums of Draega and a child whoring herself on the streets doesn't have time for such things.

Looking back, there was only one time I can even say I played in the snow. I was 20 and had decided to take some time off--just a week or so--and get away from the Red Moon houses. The court Daemon was serving at was busy with their preparations and he was able to slip away as well. We met in Shalador at one of our hideaways. Well, his hideaway that would become one of mine. There was snow and it was hard for him to get me off of the sofa in front of the fire with my nice book, but he managed it by promising to cook dinner for the next three nights. We went for a walk, and I'd gotten a bit ahead of him when something hit me from behind. He'd thrown a snowball at me and I just...stared at him. The Sadist was throwing snowballs? Of course, at that time I'd only heard the name. I was a child, really, still. Hadn't even made my Offering yet. I scooped snow up and threw it back. The bastard put up a shield, smirking. It was war pretty quickly though, and he finally dropped the shield to give me a fighting chance. We went back inside only when our fingers were too numb to do anything else. Two whores laughing in the kitchen on holiday from their lives. He made me wrap up in a blanket to not catch a chill and brought me hot toddies all night.

But since that week, 'til this Winsol...it wasn't really something I'd done again. I looked back on it as a bit of childhood that was stolen from me. A Winsol gift from my friend.

So when Daemon suggested we make the snowman on the Hall's grounds, I sort of stared at him. He'd been humoring a child then. We were both adults now. I mean, if he wanted to take Daemonar out to build a snow man, that was different. But no. He tugged me outside again, with the same eagerness he'd shown that week so long ago.

Do you know how ridiculous people look rolling snow balls around on a lawn to make them bigger? Graysfang got involved as well, thrilled to be able to play whatever game we were playing and knocked it over more than once. We broke to play snowball fetch with him, and I, ex-whore and assassin, was chasing a wolf around a yard trying to retrieve the snowman's nose and eyes. I tripped, falling flat on my face in the snow and Daemon almost fell over from laughing at me so hard. That degenerated into a snowball fight of our own because such an insult as laughing at me had to be repaid with snow down his back. Graysfang pounced us both and there was wrestling and possibly tickling. We were both soaked through by the end of it, warming spells or not, and we looked a sight. My hair was bedraggled and falling all down and my trousers were muddy and covered in bits of grass that hadn't quite been covered yet. Flushed and sweating and panting for air and Daemon...immaculate, never a hair out of place Daemon was not in much better shape. We both looked like fools. Grown-ups playing like children and making a mess of the lovely carpets when they tramped back inside. I knew it. I had only to look at Daemon to know what I must look like.

And I just...didn't care. It didn't matter. I'm not sure I'd ever had that much fun.

We got back down to business when Graysfang finally collapsed in exhaustion and by the end we had a snowman. In a nice dinner jacket. With a snifter of brandy in his hand and a look about him that sent us both scampering inside before anyone could see who'd made the snowman on the lawn that looked like the High Lord of Hell.

I couldn't save her. I tried to get there in time, but I wasn't listening hard enough. I should have gone as soon as I knew they'd taken her instead of waiting. I should have...as soon as I felt Sadi break the Black, I should have gone. Should have known.

But I was too late and they'd already done to her what should never be done to anyone, let alone a child. They'd taken her innocence. Shattered it. Shattered her. And not just with...they used something on her. Something that ripped her, and all I could see was blood.

I killed the man inside her, but the Uncles were coming and I didn't take the minute it would have taken to finish the kill. I left him there to make the transformation to demon dead and come after her again. I failed there, too.

Always finish the kill. I knew that. Sadi taught me that young, but I didn't. I left her, I left all of them, still in danger.

I wove a death trap for those who came after us into the altar. Tried to give Sadi time to do what needed doing. But even then, I couldn't hold them. There were too many. He couldn't go with them, because no one had time to show me how to do what needed doing with the candles. He had to hold together to do it, drained as he was already. Because I took too much time. Wasn't quiet enough. Made my kills too noisily. Whatever.

She shattered.

He shattered.

I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't fix it. All I could do was watch.

Dear Surreal,

I'm not sure that anything I say here would make much of a difference. You've always gone your own way, sugar, never taking much help or advice from anyone save Daemon. And Darkness knows, I'm not him. But there are a few things I want to say, and I hope that you'll listen.

It wasn't your fault. If you'd been there, they would have killed you, too. Or worse, an unbroken Green-jeweled witch? They would have taken you to Dorothea to be broken and used by her.

You survived your Virgin Night intact, and that's something to be proud of, sugar. They didn't break you, and they never will. You cling tight to that and don't let anyone take that from you with their insults and their taunts. They'll call you whore and you'll make it into something that they've never dreamed. Princes will fight for the honor of being in your bed, and you'll hate them with a burning vengeance, seeing only Kartane for years. Centuries. It's good. Let the hate fuel you. Make you strong. Hone those skills. The bedroom ones you'll learn and the others Daemon will see you're taught.

Oh yes, sugar, don't you worry. He'll find you. You won't stay there on the street forever, because he'll come. He'll rescue you. And maybe it won't be to whisk you off to some Palace to be a lady, but it will be a rescue nonetheless. You can't last on the streets, not for centuries. You won't learn. You'll turn into a guttersnipe and find a man's knife in your back before you have a chance to make your Offering.

So go with Daemon. Trust him. Learn from him. Let him mold you into the woman you'll become. He'll become your dearest friend. Your only true friend, for a long time. Don't be angry at him, sugar. He gave Titian two years of warmth and where she didn't have to whore herself. He's a powerful man, but he can't be everywhere. He couldn't have saved her, but by the Darkness he will do his part to avenge her. But he'll see you're strong enough, and then he'll let you finish it. He knows what it means, to need to take that revenge.

And She's coming too, sugar. Witch. And in her Court and her reign, you'll find the peace and the home you're gonna be looking for, so don't you worry. Everything's going to work itself out.

...One other thing. There's a night that's going to come. And an idea you're going to get in your head of what you want for yourself. It won't really be a fleeting whim, but it won't be possible either. You'll know that deep down. He's not for you. But that won't ever stop you wanting him. Look at him and tell me how you could not? He's going to be your everything for so very long. But you should know better. Know how he hates it. Know that he won't be in a place where he can see, and where you can...You don't know anything about love, sugar. Not that kind. You'll say it all wrong, and he won't hear it right, and it will be a disaster.

He's not a prize, he's your friend. Your...

But you'll say it wrong and you'll mess it all up and you'll lose him. Fear him. And you won't really know until then just how much you depended on him. How much he meant. Thing is? If you don't make that mistake you might never know, and so I'm torn on just what to tell you, sugar.

But when you do know? When you learn? You'll remember he's not for you. That he belongs to Her. And sugar, when She comes, you're going to love Her so much, it won't matter. It won't hurt so bad, because you'll look at how happy they make each other and you'll know it's the right thing.

So maybe it's best if you don't make that mistake. Don't learn, so you don't have to pay. No hurt at all if you never know how much he means, and no lost years when you'll be all alone despite the men in your bed every night.

When the thought comes, when you want it to be him instead of all of them? Push it down. Don't ask him. Don't try to seduce him to your bed. Take his friendship and don't let things change and the coldness come. It will be so, so cold, and it'll make this ache that won't ever go away, even when you get that friendship back. Because you'll know things you don't want to know, and you'll know things that...

So just don't. Don't reach for him, and you'll never lose him.

And maybe, someday, you'll have somone of your very own. I can't say when that might happen, or if it even will. But maybe.

And, Mother Night. Wouldn't that be something?

Love,
Me

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.

She changed her dress three times. Then a fourth. Then went back to the second one she'd been wearing. She'd never worried about wearing anything too revealing out with Daemon before, but if he was going into protective mode...

Well. She hadn't anything dowdy and were she to wear something dowdy he might not go with her because she'd look so wretched. Daemon could be so particular about his clothes. She eyed the pile on the bed. Apparently that was another lesson he'd passed on. She settled on a simple gown, elegant and flattering of her slender figure and her coloring. Alluring but not a dress that she would have worn to work in.

Hair half up, half down, though she considered putting it all up to discourage errant fingers, but then couldn't do that. She liked those fingers far too much.

Loved them even.

Loved. She tried the word out mentally a couple of times. Loved. She loved his fingers. She loved his smile. She loved. Him.

She loved him.

"I love him."

And now Daemon was finally going to meet him. Jaenelle had gotten to, briefly, but Daemon...

She nibbled at her nail, then stopped, horrified at herself. Daemon first. Then, if that went well enough, Saetan. Lucivar.

But Daemon worried her most. Slipping her shoes on, she took a deep breath and reviewed the evening's plans.

She'd made arrangements for dinner in Amdarh at one of Daemon's favorite restaurants. Dinner was superb there and their wine list impressive. She thought Sam would approve.

Now, if she could just keep the two men civil and calm for the evening, things would be well. She cursed the Darkness for growly males in general, and Warlord Princes specifically and went in search of Daemon.

ooc: *g* we still need to play out Surreal telling Sam about the plans, but I figured I'd get this up if nothing else after Surreal and Daemon's chat tonight, as we're all playing a bit slow, and I have work tomorrow. :)

[After this and this.]

SURREAL:*half-wry, half serious* Being a whore was easier.
DAEMON: Yes, in some ways. At least I could splatter the bitches whenever I felt like it.
SURREAL:*blinks* Well. Yeah. That, too. *thoughtful pause* It's not very good etiquette to splatter your lover all over the walls, is it?
DAEMON: You assume I ever had any lovers.
SURREAL: No. I know you didn't. Just...in general.
DAEMON:*slight smile* I suppose you have a point. Splattering one's lovers tends to be rather permanent.
SURREAL:*soft sigh* Yeah.
DAEMON: Surreal...
SURREAL:*looks up* Yeah?
DAEMON: Do you care for him? Because if you do, I'll leave it be. I won't like it, and I can't promise I won't growl. Probably often. But I'll stay away from him.
( Lovers, Loves and Colliding Worlds )

After this.

DAEMON: *snarls*
GRAYSFANG: *She went willingly, but he smelled funny. Not like Blood*
DAEMON: *you're sure?*
GRAYSFANG: *That he smelled funny?*
DAEMON: *sighs*
GRAYSFANG: *tilts his head*
DAEMON: *no, that she went willingly* *scritches behind ears*
GRAYSFANG: *He sent her a dress. She put it on. And scent.* *sneezes slightly*
DAEMON: *moody* *if you insist.*
GRAYSFANG: *Is Surreal taking a mate?* *worried*
DAEMON: *even moodier* *I suppose it's possible.*
GRAYSFANG: *whines a little, settling next to him* *He stayed in her bed before. She wouldn't let me in*
DAEMON: *dryly* *I think she's capable of taking care of that side of things without your help, little brother*
GRAYSFANG: *If Surreal takes a mate, his claim will be stronger than mine...*
DAEMON: *strokes him again* *And if you take a mate, hers will be stronger than Surreal's. That's the way it goes.*
GRAYSFANG: *puppy eyes*
DAEMON: *cool look* *You know I'm right.*
GRAYSFANG: *whines*
DAEMON: *sighs, moody* *Yeah, I don't like it much either.*
GRAYSFANG: *perks up a bit* *You don't?*
DAEMON: *shakes his head* *But it's not any of my business, either.*
GRAYSFANG: *hopefully* *She listens to you*
DAEMON: *scowls* *Absolutely not*
GRAYSFANG: *Why not?* *puppy eyes again*
DAEMON: *because she'll come after my balls, and then yours, that's why.*
GRAYSFANG: *puts his paws over his nose, discouraged*
DAEMON: *grumps*
GRAYSFANG: *He smells funny. He's not Blood. She can't take a mate who isn't Blood* *seems mildly cheered by this*
DAEMON: *Hmm. I wonder if we can argue that...*
GRAYSFANG: Rrrf! *Yes!* *bounces back up, tail wagging*
DAEMON: *glances at the wolf*
DAEMON: *I'll talk to her, all right?*
GRAYSFANG: *All right!*
DAEMON: *is so going to regret this*
GRAYSFANG: *bounces happily, finds a scrap of leather Surreal lets him chew on, settling on Daemon's feet*
DAEMON: *chuckles, petting him*

[Surreal: ....Mate? We went dancing. They got into the Gravediggers again didn't they? I can't believe Daemon gave the wolf alcohol. So irresponsible.]

*laughs*

What do you know, Sadi? You taught me well.

My #1 result for the SelectSmart.com selector, Which Black Jewels Trilogy character are you most like?, is Daemon Sadi

Frighteningly? I got Lucivar as #2. *slight pout* I wasn't included in the quiz as a possible result...