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- The Puzzler
- Me, Myself, and I
- Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can’t explain them, and those who haven’t known them have no understanding of them at all.
Some people risk their lives to conquer a mountain peak. No one, not even they themselves, can really explain why. Others ruin themselves to win the heart of a certain person who wants nothing to do with them. Still others are destroyed by their devotion to the pleasures of the table. Some are so bent on winning a game of chance that they lose everything they own, and some sacrifice everything for a dream that can never come true.
Some think their only hope of happiness lies in being somewhere else, and so they spend their whole lives travelling from place to place. And some find no rest until they have become powerful.
In short, there are as many different passions as there are people.
The Neverending Story by Michael Ende
- she is a simple girl and she is governed by simple pleasures
- California Girl, but she wasn't blonde. From Earth, but on Gor for some time. Pretty, but sometimes a Plain Jane. Quiet, but with a wry sense of humor. Kajira, but she wasn't overtly sensual. A slave, but with independent thought. Contradictory, but she rarely actually meant to be.
- she is a simple girl and she got simple emotions
- Still called Skirt for her penchant of avoiding questions that delved too deep, but she had moments were strides were made. Her well never runs out of questions. Brown-eyed girl was often thoughtful, and could be found in downtime watching the world go by, Mona Lisa smile quirked up from time to time. The way to her heart was mostly through puzzles and debates, and sometimes just a bit of good old-fashioned stubbornness. Back to short hair. Long story, short locks.
- she wont ever let you in, but she wants you in her corner
- owned by the city of Ar.
- I'm totally down for playing with whomever. However, if your character wants to have sexy times with Skirt, you have to woo me first. She's a slave, sure, but I'm not. Write with me and engage me before she gets involved in shenanigans. Or damn, at least the writing equivalent of dinner, please.
On OOC notes, IMs are OOC. I'm friendly, I think.
This is the first time I've had a chance to write in a bit. This is because I had been rented out for three hands.
I was rented out by Rufus Laevinus (who wasn't left-handed, I was sad to note), a dapper gentleman who had a thing for parties. Now, when I say that he has a thing for parties, I mean..George IV regency style. Lavish with a capital lavish. He had heard, somehow, that I knew my way around a kitchen and enjoyed being in there and his chef -- Terrence -- wanted a slave that knew what she was doing. He wanted a sous chef, essentially, without having share his pay with another person of the actual caste. Flinty one, Terrence. But it makes sense, I suppose. All the same, my name was brought up by someone and the deal was made. During the three hands that he was having his shindigs, I was to report to his kitchens and Terrence was my master.
I know that being a kettle slave, to many slaves, is a considerable downgrade. It's not something that women particularly want? But I don't mind it. I like the hustle and bustle of the area, the smells, the ability to do something. Make something, I guess? I always liked cooking for Zebediah and seeing whether he enjoyed what I made. Little things.
Terrence did not like me at first. Too skinny, he said. What do skinny girls know about food? What kind of palette can they have if they eat like tiny birds? Peck peck peck. He called me that, the entire time I was there. Peck. I was reminded of the movie Willow, and how Madmartigan called Willow the dwarf a Peck. I think I proved myself over the time, though. He taught me a few things, and I taught him. It was there that I found a sauce similar to hoisen sauce, which meant that there was an asian themed night. I think they enjoyed that one.
Anyway. Terrence and I found a rhythm and I found that the hands went by quickly. I've returned to the city proper now, and returned to my normal life. It's a quiet one, really, but there's nothing wrong with quiet. Calm. I've returned to people watching and my place by the fire.
The group of women around the fire always interests me. The faces have changed over the years, though Madeline is there. Ever Madeline, genuine queen of the firepit. Like Uppity had been queen when we were young. I spend my time with her, and with Beasty, and sometimes Iris or Justys. (I do need to catch up with Lola, however. This is a mental note) I watch people go by, and have found familiar faces. I saw the Builder the other day, and have been seeing Billy..Bill, now..around. He's older, too. Handsome, as well.
I should figure out how old I am now. I haven't kept track.
Re-reading this, I suppose that I am a boring creature when push comes to shove. Though I like adventures, I like them in small doses. I wonder if this makes me sound sad. I'm not. I am content. I am content with what I have in my life during the here-and-now, with the small adventures that come my way, with friends and serving. It's not a lot, but it's mine.
And that's what really matters.
0 Comments 80 weeks
As I said before, I need to go over the goings-on and who I've met. There have been new faces..and they each deserve the musings that they have caused me to have. So. Here we go
I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I met a man in the square a few days ago..I've met a few men there. But this one first. He is a teacher who learned of my enjoyment of puzzles and that I am an errand runner. He told me to come to his Estate the next morning as he had an errand for me. But did not tell me where the estate was. So, after some Nancy Drew'ing it while running my errands, I found his estate and was met with...a puzzle.
This puzzle was easy, a switching of letters that -- as soon as I figured the pattern out -- made the decoding simple. It directed me to a statue in the Square, which I found. There on the statue's..person..was another note. Another puzzle. The second one was not so easy. It was, of all things, in binary code. Binary code. The series of ones and zeros that computers read. I wondered how he came upon the code, particularly because there are no computers here, but put that curiosity on the back burner until I figured out the code directly. I recall that there is a way to do it, involving math and switching from text to something else, then to binary. But hell if I actually know it. The only thing I did know was that there was a certain sequence of numbers that means there is a space in between codes, in between words. So I at least seperated that out, and..proceeded to be stuck. It was sitting in the square (as I've been doing while waiting for a shopkeeper to open their shop or something like that) that became my saving grace. A man wanted to know what I was doing; after I explained why I had it he gave me a hint as to figure it out. With that hint -- and in between chores and other projects -- I finally solved it. And it allowed me to choose my own ink and quill from the shop off the center of the square.
He cheats, the teacher whose name I learned was Kaeso. Men cheat in general, I think. But him particularly. And I know it. That's the frustrating part. I know he's..trying to woo me. That's how I said it once to another slave, who is Gorean and was confused as hell about the concept of a man wooing a slave. All the same, it's what he was doing. He found a weakness, and is using it so that I come to find him again. Cheating. Sort of. Also cheating, though apparently a common practice (even on Earth) is speaking with my friends. He spoke with Jonah, who said that he basically said he wants to rent me. I don't know about it, though.
Slow it down, make it stop
Or else my heart is going to pop
'Cause it's too much, yeah, it's a lot
To be something I'm not
Another man, also in the square, found me when I was working on that second puzzle. We joked for a bit, as he called me the keeper of the fountain --I was perched on the edge of it. I explained that the city now had slaves looking after errant fountains, of course. I enjoy bantering with the free, when they understand my humor. It's an interesting give and take balance that, mostly, allows me to be me as long as I remember that they are also themselves. And free. After fetching him some hot kal da, which he shared with me, he took me and made use of me right there. Even after all of these years, there is still some sort of sensibility in me that finds the public use..well, risque. But enjoyable, too. It was in this manner that I learned his name was Kuhn. So he was enjoyable. Save for the end part. I ended up disobeying him in the end which, if it got back to Kuhn, will probably get me in trouble. But there are some things that practicality wins out on. Some people would say I let practicality win out too much on a lot of things. But trust me; this one..it was probably best that I let practicality win.
The sun is hot in the sky
Just like a giant spotlight
The people follow the sign
0 Comments 86 weeks
I am currently writing this with a new quill and ink, rewarded to me by the Teacher for figuring out his ciphers.Â
I realize that I haven't spoken about the Teacher yet. This is what I get for not keeping myself on the up and up with my writing. However, that will be the next entry. This entry focuses on something different. Someone different.Â
I've spent my last nights
strung up and pulled tight.
Holding out, sleeping proud
An answer comes without a "please"
Do what you want.
Since my return, I have spent my free time with Madeline again. The duo is made a trio with the readdition of Jonah to the mix. I'm not sure honestly where she has been? But I'm glad she's around too. Anyway, these are the two with whom I can be constantly found around. So, being around them, I notice things. I try to notice things. Lately, I've noticed that Madeline has been having a bit of a hard time.
She has had two men inquire about her rental. And two men trying to delve into her psyche. She's not ready, I don't think. Or, rather, doesn't believe herself ready. I imagine that, on our collective part, we have to be ready whether we genuinely are or not. Hers is a difficult situation, though, brought on by a different kind of leaving than I've recently experienced. It leaves a mark on you, a scar. She has the physical one. But it's mental too. I remember my first owner, and after I was sold to the city. So many days of wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn't good enough, why he could just..leave me. Zebediah was different. But Madeline..she is going through that sort of thing, I imagine. And it hurts. And the walls that we put around ourselves -- the bane of men who look too hard -- are what allows us to get through everyday life.
Hushed with a finger
Don't say you'll never when you might,
just another time.
This poison comes instruction free.
Do what you want, but I'm drinking.
Now, my friend is a different person than I am, and handles things differently. She has been called out on her..brokenness..twice that I have seen. First by Hagan, who also brought up other things that I will go over later. And then by a stranger, someone I've never seen. The stranger is the person who inquired about rental, as did the Magistrate.Â
I know that I have my issues; we all do. But I think I get away more with having them? I get away with more. Than Madeline does, I mean. I think because, by nature of my personality, I can deal with the public a little more. I skirt things, yes. But I do not fall apart. And it's showing the cracks that make people want to pry more. Men, by nature, want to fix things. Sometimes this includes pretty blonde women who flash a dazzling smile that hints at more just underneath.
Also, I don't..run away. Literally. Mads gets anxious. She always has. And perhaps people don't understand that here.Â
Wonder why I'm so caught off guard when we kiss.
Rather live my life in regret than do this.
What happened to the love we both knew?
We both chased.
Hanging on a cigarette
you need me,Â
you burn me
you'll burn me.
Hagan continued to press, and I could see Madeline start to worry. Anxious. Verbal diarrhea came out, mixed with an inability to get her point across. He called her out on being spoiled. Serving who she wanted, surface things. Is it being spoiled? I think Zebediah mentioned that as well once. Is it spoiledness? Am I spoiled? Is it, instead, a means of self preservation? Men, I think, forget the vulnerability of our positions. And that not all men are as honorable, or have the scruples, of the men who we so often kneel before. Or have knelt before. Perhaps it's a mixture of this self preservation and spoiledness. I'm not sure, honestly. I do know that we do serve when a free person looks our way, we do share a smile in hello -- if not a word. And that I understand that, because of my closeness to the subject, I'm not entirely objective. I just think that per
0 Comments 86 weeks
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