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One:
Staring at the blank sheet of paper that had been rolled partially into the typewriter two hours before, Anastasia snarled at the lack of ink that should have marred the surface already. This was absolutely ridiculous. She is a writer for God’s sake; a word-smith! She shouldn’t have this sort of trouble, and yet this was not the first time that her frustrations had gotten the best of her. It had been several weeks since she had written anything… well, anything good. Clenching her jaw and shooting daggers with her eyes as the sheet of paper vaguely fluttered from the movement of air caused by the ceiling fan, as if it was waving at her, taunting her, saying “Here I am! Come on! What are you waiting for?!” Offering a gesture of her middle finger as an answer to the imagined teasings from an inanimate object, Ana decided that it was time to take a break. Without a second thought, she grabbed the pack of cigarettes that lay next to the typewriter and opened a window before she struck a match and took her first calming intake of the toxic smoke.
Looking away, the chair spinning slightly so that the typewriter was no longer in her direct line of sight, she took a drag off her cigarette and pondered about what she should do. The hot smoke curled and swam in her lungs, burning in just the right way as she slowly exhaled. Staring at the burning paper and tobacco leaves that rested eloquently between her fingers, she admired the way the singed look of the off-white tissue. A thought of burning every piece of paper that was in her room came to mind, and it was soon cast out, but only because it may start a fire that would burn down the hotel. And even then, she wasn’t really concerned with the criminal status that would incur or the lives that may be lost, but the muse that she had found when she began to reside there. She had decided that the hotel would be the subject of her follow up novel, though it would be given another name to protect the status of the hotel and allow her to continue to live there without any discrepancies. It was so interesting that behind the elite status of the hotel, there was a seedy underbelly that she had observed upon the first evening of staying there, which had been during the short press tour for her first novel.
So, if the atmosphere here was so rich with inspiration, why was she having such a horrid time trying to come up with anything? She knew exactly why, but did not want to admit it to herself. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the chair, imagining the way some of the ‘employees’ at the hotel could make her feel, the moans she heard from down the hallways or through the walls. The imagined sounds caused an eruption of goosebumps to form on her skin as if someone had touched her. She sat up suddenly, shivering and rubbing the skin on her arms as she finished the cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray. Ever since the death of her brother, she had had a hard time getting close to anyone. Laughing softly to herself, she knew that it wasn’t in the nature, or in the business, of the hotel’s ‘employees’ to get emotionally attached, and that was perhaps a good thing. But there was still a part of Anastasia that couldn’t even bring herself to pay for that sort of service - though there had been a few whom she had admired and imagined could make her forget about everything in her past, even if for only a few minutes.
Hence, the problem: a writer should write what he or she knows. This was never going to get done if she didn’t get out there and try to do something about it. Before she knew what she was doing, Anastasia was slipping on her shoes and ignoring the calls from her typewriter as she walked out of her room with a purpose. There was a tumbler of scotch calling her name from the bar downstairs, and maybe a warm body who could help her find some inspiration.
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Two:
The next few days were as hard as Aeon had foretold they would be. There were little moments of calm and many of distress. The city of Lune grew more rampant by the day, demons and demi-gods alike growing antsy and coarse. Fighting never ceased to end and screams could be heard anytime of day or night. When she looked out her window, Eleni could see Mare burning, a cloud of smoke and red far off in the distance. The chaos that surrounded that city was one she could only imagine, knowing how easily she could have been caught there.
Lune may have fared better than Mare at the moment, but it was no longer the lush and beautiful city it had been when first she came. There was no deep rooted desire in her to leave the apartment she shared with Aeon, certainly no will to explore the enemy city. That was odd for her, very odd. It wasn’t often the siren found her call for nature silenced. Fear was the most obvious cause, finding despite her stubborn and confident words that she was unwilling to run about the Luneians whom pillaged and raped and destroyed her fellow civilians. She was not so weak as to cry for them or to hold any deep emotion concerning them, but there was a small part of her that pitied the few neighbors she’d come to know. She expected the worst for them and, while most were not the kind of fey’s she’d choose to align herself with, there was no doubt that most of Mare’s inhabitants had been of the kinder and more innocent folk.
So the days passed, and Eleni feigned a mask of unconcern. She complained about Aeon’s people and this foolish war and how badly she wished to leave, though it was all a lie. Only when she thought of the water, of an ocean or a lake, did she truly feel any loss. Any longing. Eventually, her own cowardice began to eat at her. The siren was a proud woman and even she could not ignore such a blaring fault in her being. She would leave this place today, if only to prove she had the ability to do so. Her toes would touch a more natural aqua and she would regain a missing part of her person. She would leave and bask in that moment of wholeness only such an outing would bring.
….Or so she said. When the time actually came, she found her will faulter. This is ridiculous. She chided herself. Already a week had passed since her stupid attempt at physical release with the lycan. The night had not been jarring due to him, simply the walk home. There had been too much to see in Lune in the early AMs. That and the Lycan had talked too much, speaking of his c**k with much more pride than he deserved. The entire encounter had left her unsatistifed and since returning home to Aeon, she hadn’t left. But she would stay no longer.
The red haired man was bound to realize sooner or later that she was faking some emotions, if he hadn’t already. Part of what made Aeon’s company so peaceful was his insight. He was one of the more intelligent men she’d ever been around, and while his gentlemanly nature frustrated the seductress in her, it was genuine and nonthreatening He was honest and it was comforting and so far from the scummy of which she was accustomed that she knew not what to make of him.
With more reasons than one, she left that morning. A simple walk. She told herself, but it was obvious in the air that this was more. It was midday when she left, a time when the most people would be out. If she could blend into the crowd, Eleni thought it more likely she would move about unharmed. She hardly looked like a Mare woman. She’d only to go as far as the wood path. From there, her journey would be safe enough. And sure enough it was. She’d found that same large lake where Aeon had found her, had save her from the foul snake demons. Somewhere, below the clear surface, she’d killed one. The morbidness may have turned a normal person away from this spot, but Eleni found the memories here brought her an odd sort of strength. I survived them once. Let them try again. She smiled, leaving only a slip on as she dived into the water, sighing with pleasure as a feeling swept over her and she realized just how deeply she’d longed to be here.
 Nasal Sex · Tue Jun 18, 2013 @ 02:14am · 0 Comments |
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