In Perpetuity

You are my constant.
My northern trajectory,
My broken Mirror,
House of my reflection.


You are my constant,
An audience held captive;
Bewitched by wit,
To which I am chained.

Stalking


Down



Moonless gardens,
Sunny Alleyways,
Resounding rain gutters.


You are my constant.
My cruelest curse;
My truest good deed,
Unyielding faith.

Vigilant hater do not fall prey to your guesswork;
It is not what you think.
It simply is,
Constant.

Commend, Condemn, Collide

The banquet was beautiful. The people in attendance roaring with hurricane forces. Like a hurricane it was lovely to watch and yet altogether terrible to experience. The wine at least, was good. I am not one for food in public places. It is unfortunate to have this kind of neurosis, as it genuinely smelled delicious.


Ibrahim proved himself useful when he wasn't enjoying the bread. He seemed to know just when to draw attention so that I could leave a trail for my target to follow. I am commanded by the powers that be to make this man, the target, come to me. This was not the way I would have it, but it is not for me to choose. I am beginning to despise this new world order. Edict or not, it is not right to expect me the black whore. Figuratively, of course. I am above this type of behavior, but, a contract is binding. I have agreed to fulfill it, and am being compensated well. There is something to be said for knowing your place in this world. Then again, there is something to be said for rooftops, too. I'd prefer the latter.


I was told a story once, of a great woman who knew her place. It always struck a chord with me. She had been a woman of plainness and not particularly beautiful for the times but, she had command of a powerful man. Moreover, a man she wanted and desired, held captive by her guile. It was not without rumor as to how. Some had said she was a witch who enthralled him with a poison. Others had said she begged the Moons, and her wish was granted. One proclamation was more simplistic in nature. It had been said she would give him just enough to instill the want of her, and then she would walk, sometimes run away. Subsequently, this powerful man would chase her, want her, have to have her. She became his obsession. He gave up companion, Home Stone, religious affiliation, and almost his monarchy. Just to have her? Just to hold her? No, just to posses her. When the hunt for her had come to an end, bored of her whims, he betrayed her. I do not believe she was a heretic as the story's end would have us conclude. It is my feeling she was done in by love. Lust is a chase, love is a conqueror. Love after all, had chopped off her head in a market square. Love had watched it roll into the awaiting basket. Love had left her to the flies and spectators.


I had been seen. Stalking me across the room. It is like being a feast at the pulpit of the poor. Or, more like kaissa, if played right, of course. A moved piece, a first pawn, sacrificed for the long war and not the quick battle. A taste of things to come. It isn't as if we have never been the object of someones affection before. For that matter I also know what it is like to covet with desperation. I can play this out. If experience teaches us anything it will be that we can draw upon that past for use now. The Lady Desdemona with her regal poise, and long slow voice, I hear her speak to him. To someone.


He will hunt us down.

Sovereignty

A Copper for your thoughts.



The paint upon the brilliant tower of white seemed indelible. Workers had tried all day in vain with solvents to remove that which was etched into the stone of the Initiates Cylinder. 'You are Giants, Bow to No One' was the effigy. It rang up amongst the people, a slogan of their cause. The shouts along the Market Square were clear and full of the anger they had been storing up and pushing down for several hands. Taxed to the point of poverty, mothers, sons, fathers and daughters could all agree they needed to be heard. They would be heard. Men in their pristine robes of white scattered to alcoves for safety. Safe will not be the case to be sure. As I had told the First and his Brother, I would bide time for such actions to occur. The people needed to call out to the culpable parties who lunched high in their apartments. I would indeed set ruin to the grindstone of money sifting and theft. The priories across Ar should beware the masses. Nothing says good afternoon like a lynchmob on your temple doorstep.

Ibrahim arrived at my debtors residence in the southwest section of the Great Square District on time. He had been invited to a catered political event and wished for me to attend with him. Often I find myself wondering how does a man of Tor find himself in such high regard of Arian politicians? But, then again, why wag a muddy tail at good fortunes. Tonight I go on his arm as the lovely and wealthy first daughter, the Lady Desdemona. He had sent me a set of robes that were beautifully handcrafted in white heavy silk and beads. I think he meant to take me as far away from the black leather as he could. While veils are not a standard in Ar, I assumed ones that were more sheer. Women of station should never be seen fully in our opinion. Certainly Desdemona could show her face, but Oman preferred that not be the case. As a token Ibrahim had bestowed upon me a necklace of gold and matching bangles and rings. These were crafted of fine gold and gave the impression of sea treasures. The inlay was of moonstone, a personal favorite, though how this man knew that is an arcane a mystery as the golden beetle. It is my opinion, that the jeweler had made them himself just for me. The matching bangles which housed our secrets, attested that yes indeed he had. He looked quite proud to have me on his arm, and in truth, I felt quite proud to be there. His caravan of men along with my own retinue, made for an auspicious presentation as we rode our way towards the Tower Districts. It would not be uneventful. Ibrahim spoke, " She, it was not easy getting to you. Be prepared."

As we rounded through the streets, the outrage became apparent. The palanquin on which we rode was no formidable form of protection should the masses of protesters raise up against us. I cannot say I was wholly comfortable dressed up and on display. My Brothers were rallied close, Basle at the door. Ibrahim patted me on the arm, " Do not fret. I have taken care of everything, She."

It is very hard to be faced with such hypocrisy. Here I was, wearing something that was worth more than all of these men combined had made in a lifetime. They are right to rage out, and I am right to feel the truth of it. When we turned the corner to the High street the torches, smoke and shouting grew into hysteria. Ibrahim stepped out onto the street, and put Basle in his seat. He walked with his arms on his waist and a smile in his voice. "Yes, Yes!," he had shouted, " We are Giants, WE are Giants!" I could hear the jingle of lots of coin hitting the cobblestones. People were cheering, thanking him, praising him, supporting his cause. I caught only a brief glimpse of what was going on, that fact alone made me more nervous than walking through an office door and slitting a mans throat. From the billow of beautiful drapes on the palanquin, I saw his men tossing coins from great hip sacks. It was like a parade, the people screaming, "Giants! Giants! Giants!"

We arrived on time, and uninjured. Now to face the mob inside, that will be another story.

A Tale of Two Castes

The Meeting

I put a finger to Basle's mouth to keep him hushed. We were both stood there outside the great ebony carved doors of the First's office. He tried to protest, but kept his tongue. He was loyal at least. They were speaking, the First and another man. I found that I had a hard time telling which was talking. The argument was over issues of control. More importantly it was over controlling me. This of course peaked my interest and forced me to hush the young Brother with me.

" She is capable, " one had said. " But a woman loosed is like an act of nature. Unpredictable, " said the other. " This is what the agreement was ! You cannot have a say in how, when, where, why or who. Just know it will be done and when it is over their will be no worry. You will be opposed by none, and the Administration will be yours." I still couldn't make out who was saying what. There was silence for a few moments. The kind of quiet that is deafening. My ears were ringing. I was left wondering just what that meant. I looked to Basle, he was staring at me. Now he understands what could be at stake should I fail, so failure is not an option. I am found wondering if they will send someone to hunt me, if they haven't already. Perhaps some precautions should be taken.

I nodded, and Basle knocked on the door. As I entered the room the two men stood. I am quite ambivilent to acts of courtesy. The guard of Brothers followed. I saw now why I could not distiguish the two voices. They are brothers one in Red, and one in Black. Look alikes to be exact. Somehow this all makes sense now. I am being used as a tool in the Red's ascension to power. Ambition is a cruel mistress indeed. The First paced behind his desk looking at his brother with concern. The Red leant against a window frame in a casually rogueish fashion. His face half lit with a smile. I wonder, whose canary he's eaten. I was about to find out.

"I have been summoned to the First, and to the First I have come," I bowed and moved to fix a glass of water.

" I summoned you," the Red spoke. His Black brother winced, " I wish to see you, She Killer."

" I am not to be seen, " I replied, quietly cocking a dagger from a wrist spring sheath to my hand.
The First interjected at this point. I think he heard the click of the switch, " Now Oman, we are all allies in this room."

" Then allow me to do my part in this and we will remain that way, I am not in contract with this man of Red, " I was seething. You see, this man was not asking to see me, he was asking to look upon me. He was asking to unveil me.

" I will not agree to this. How dare you! " I could feel the presence of She, urging me to simply retaliate. It would be within my rights. Then that cocky, arrogant bastard smirked, " I have heard tales of your beauty," he tried to be persuasive. Perhaps on any other it might work, it made me sick to my stomach with anger. " I am an Assassin, and you are insulting me in my own House. Just who the fuck do you think you are? More to the fact who do you think I am? To add injury to such an insult, now you think to charm my veils off? You must listen to your brother when he tells you that I am not for your eyes. I will never be for your eyes, " I spat.

" You do not speak to me that way woman!" he pounded a fist on the wall. " I will know you. You will not be some puzzle to be figured out after the solution is complete. You will show me to whom I am intrusting my secrets! " He roared. I turned to leave the room. The Black guard interceded his objections this time. " Like hell I will, " I said over my shoulder.

"Oman, there is another discussion we must have, " The First had spoken and paused in hopes to add calm to the churning. He stood there behind his desk, wringing his hands with nervous tension, " When can we expect results?"

" I will allow time to pass for now. The Administration is in chaos, and fearful. They will be easier to hunt on the night of no moons. For now, I should think to let the city speak out, and see what occurs, " With that I went from the room, my guard behind me.

The Mirror

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know the dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

-Dylan Thomas

The tides of the sea follow the lunar cycle. So do the tides of a city change with the whim of our moons. Lately, our Sister Moons have seemed cruelly precocious. Ar, its citizens and denziens have been in a certain state of uproar and unrest. Initiates search the nights skies for answers. Their double knowledge leaving them lost in a star-less night, leading them only to the mortality of a She Killer. I listen as I walk through crowded streets, to their heartfelt pleas without shame or sympathy. My path and new found persona will take me once again to the Administirial Offices. Tonight I do not go as Oman Khan the Assassin, I do not go gently into this night. I am She.

The mirror I own has been my constant companion. A true friend who tells no lies, and houses all of my demons. This mirror reveals secrets that are only for me. She keeps Earth, Wind, and beloved Fire close for my call in times of need. Too, she houses The Apothacary, The Golden Dancer, Oman, and now She. I only need look within to find them all their in the reflection waiting for their time to come forth. As I sit before this pane of ornate glass I am succumbed to a will not my own.

Tonight I shall bask in Black. I will let it warm and comfort me for soon the Brothers will know glory. On this night of the waning moon I will murder two men of the Council of Ar. Their bodies will be found hanging on the steps near the Great Square, arms out and feet bound in black hemp. They are ascended to the cause.

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La'Luna Aria

Red skies at night
Should have taken warning
It's just, people mourning,
running, hiding, lost
You can't find,
find a place to go
So it's red skies at night
Someone's taking over
And it looks like they're aiming right at you
Someone says, "We'll be dead by morning"
Someone cries, leaving Red eyes at night, red eyes at night
Red skies at night

Blood Moon.

Surely it was appropriate for all it was worth, it did seem a sign. The haruspex for hire in the Great Square pontificated on omens, and other such sith. Crazy one eyed bitch had better look out.

Last night I had feasted on the souls of two men. Something about pairs or doubles always appealed to me. Perhaps it is because I myself am a twin. Too, it could simply be that I have always had such a duality of nature. Who would know me well enough to say, truly.

The two men who once held high positions in the Administrations Offices, had grovelled at my feet, begged for life. Pathetic. These two petty individuals thought to buy my affection, and my sympathy. " Neither sympathy nor affection are my forte`", I had told them. There was indescribable, overwhelming power as I watched their heads bend backwards from their necks and swing pedulant from their spines. I must have been more brutal than intended.

My constant companions, the guard of Black men had watched my presence grow as I left these two dogs to spew forth hearts blood around the foyer of the Central Cylinder. Two of my young Brothers had been sick. Maybe they fear me, or perhaps what I have become before their eyes. As well they should for I am licensed to kill these days with 10 more writs of execution in my hands. These Administrators will not have died in vain, no longer will the Black hide behind the Cosian scum for our hand in this. No, we have found our path and soon, yes dear soon, I am coming for you that have stolen from us. You will find the heaviest of hands not gloved in Red. We are silent as the dagger now coming from behind to take from you all that you hold beloved. I shall show this city what it truly means to revel in the lust and greed, and what price that bounty will bring. I am, after all, marked for greatness.

I have found my lost soul in this Moon. I have found her, and she is hiding no more. For this sanguine Moon, she who makes these streets my pale red venue, I salute. Vigilent I shall rise from the ashes of forlorn. I shall become a living, breathing, nightmarish icon for a whole city to fear and revere. I have painted myself appropriately as I think she painted herself bloody just for me. Yes, just for us.


Glory to Ar. Glory to the Black. Glory to the People.

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