It all started with the smack of a wooden fan agaisnt my shoulder. A free woman commanded me to bring a message to a soldier she fancied atop the walls of Ar. Did she not realize how HIGH those walls were?? Crazy ass women, I swear. But I took the note and hurried along. I read it too, on my way, few of the free expected a slave to be able to read and though I struggled with the bigger words I got the gist of her surupy sweet note.
I hate heights and as I climbed higher still I grew to fear them even more. The wind tore at my tunic, it felt like the wind was testing me, teasing me.. like a child in a playground pushing the weaker one to see what would happen. I delivered the note and hurried away, but I went the wrong way, I couldn't find the steps i had climbed up. I walked slowly.. no matter how wide the top was.. it seemed so narrow to me! That is probably why I didn't see the warrior.
And what a warrior he was!
Tall and strong and unforgiving. I hated him for his subtle cruelties, but I loved him for them too. I never claimed to be a simple creature. I told him a secret. The secret in the cellar. It poured out of my mouth like milk though cheese cloth. I thought though.. that he didn't really hear me.. until later.
He used me, there on the wide walls of Ar. And again I hated him for it and loved him for it. I was beautiful under him, I was glorious.. I was every inch a woman and no freckles or bad habits or lying tongue could take away my brief beauty. I confess I asked him to take me home with him. Not to steal me, for though I may not be a very good slave.. I am a very loyal slave. Does it matter that my Mistress beats me for mistakes more often imagined then real? No.. not one bit.
But oh how I wanted this man, this virulent, vital, ferocious man to take me home whit him. Eliza could later peel the skin form my back but I will bleed with a smile on my face. I know there are many slaves who profess to guard their hearts. How foolish are they! I want to be in love every day, even though it hurts, even though it stings, even though I am whipped for my troubles. A slave, I think, has no right to guard her emotions. She must, without hesitation, display them freely. She must be eager to bleed for a man. Or maybe I am as strange as she says.
And then he broke my heart! I carried me off, my heart full of hope and then.. splish splash.. I was dropped in a dirty fountain and told to bathe, for he really did intend to give me to the guardsmen! As if he had that right! Horrible beastly rotter. Even while I cursed him.. he promised to see me again and I smiled.
When he left me there, with a command to serve the men.. as in more then one, well.. he left me too, with a note for my Mistress. I cannot even here.. repeat what it said. I was well used by the guardsmen and not beaten so I must have pleased them. The bruises on my delicate skin will cling for days though.. secretly I cherish them.
I left the note by Eliza's bedside and while I fear when sh reads it.. I think.. it just might be worth it.
His name is Atticus and I want to make him mine.
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