Inn At Heroesbane Range
Monday, September 22, 2008
Search yourselves cunningly, I pray you, analysing your inmost thoughts. And first you shall discard all those gross obvious hindrances to your Will: idleness, foolish friendships, waste employments or enjoyments, I will not enumerate the conspirators against the welfare of your State. (Crowley)
It is an insifnificant town that sits at the foothills of the Heroesbane Range, so insignificant that I do not recall its name. Nevertheless it brims with an age-old profession wherein painted women lurk about the Inns in search of lonely travelers with whom they might grant a sexual favor in exchange for a bit of bread.. or perhaps a coin. And while the town remains nameless in my mind, the whore does not.
I was accosted by more than a few before I relented and allowed one to capture my eyes and my attention. Evelyn. I suspected that at one time, she must have been very pretty. Long before the ravages and usury of time had caught up to her. For now, her smile is sad and her eyes filled with a hollowness. And I pity this woman, who for a piece of bread was willing to spread open wide and bare her very soul to me.. a stranger.
As for me, I cannot defile her. Not like that.
Yet she assured me she was quite willing to succumb to any secret proclivity, no matter how vile.. for the right price. And I am sure she has seen more than her share in her lifetime.
But I shall not take what is precious from her. I shall not know her in such a carnal manner. Though I doubt she was aware of this before she breathed her last and fell backward upon me, bathing me in the warm succor of her sacrifice.
And for this, I kissed her upon her cold brow as a father might. And I left her several coins for her passage into the next life. May she fare better than she did in this one.
It is an insifnificant town that sits at the foothills of the Heroesbane Range, so insignificant that I do not recall its name. Nevertheless it brims with an age-old profession wherein painted women lurk about the Inns in search of lonely travelers with whom they might grant a sexual favor in exchange for a bit of bread.. or perhaps a coin. And while the town remains nameless in my mind, the whore does not.
I was accosted by more than a few before I relented and allowed one to capture my eyes and my attention. Evelyn. I suspected that at one time, she must have been very pretty. Long before the ravages and usury of time had caught up to her. For now, her smile is sad and her eyes filled with a hollowness. And I pity this woman, who for a piece of bread was willing to spread open wide and bare her very soul to me.. a stranger.
As for me, I cannot defile her. Not like that.
Yet she assured me she was quite willing to succumb to any secret proclivity, no matter how vile.. for the right price. And I am sure she has seen more than her share in her lifetime.
But I shall not take what is precious from her. I shall not know her in such a carnal manner. Though I doubt she was aware of this before she breathed her last and fell backward upon me, bathing me in the warm succor of her sacrifice.
And for this, I kissed her upon her cold brow as a father might. And I left her several coins for her passage into the next life. May she fare better than she did in this one.
Labels: Bryony, Bryony de Rose, Druid, Necromancer, Storyteller's Triquetra, The Triquetra, Triquetra, Vale, Vale of the Enclave, Warlock, Warrick, Warrick Erebus
