- 10th of Winter
Madeira’s head lolled drunkenly off the edge of Belladonna’s bed, in her room above the showroom of the Red Lantern. The Madame sat back against the headboard, with Madeira’s legs across her lap, tracing the colourful tattoo’s across her thighs. She tapped the spiritist on the knee and offered the smouldering stub of a cigar. Without raising her head Madeira stretched out her hand to accept it.
This wasn’t enough, not anymore.
The thought had been stewing dull and poisonous for days now. She could feel herself stagnating, dissolving into this bed in this city in this life. She sighed through the smoke and let her arms fall above her head. Her knuckles cracked on the floor and the bolt of pain sang sweetly in her bones.
“I’ve been accused of many, many delicious things”, Belladonna’s tone was sweet, but the icy drip of her words let Madeira know the sigh offended her. “But I’ve never been accused of boring someone. What’s wrong, my-dear-ah?”
“I’m just tired”, Madeira murrmrred around the cigar, her eyes falling closed as Belladonna’s painted nails played across her protruding ribs like a piano. “And perhaps a little lost.”
“If you lost this, I know where it is”, Belladonna’s voice dropped in a way Madeira had learned to fear, and that was her only warning before the Madame grabbed something that should never be grabbed with that much force.
Ashes shot halfway across the room as Madeira sucked in a startled breath and immediately began to sputter and cough. The half-lit cigar tumbled out of her mouth and left a tiny burn scar on the hardwood floor.
She wheezed something that might have been a swear or perhaps a yelp. Red-faced and wet-eyed, calling upon every muscle in her body, she shot up and smack the woman’s hand away.
“There you are”, Belladonna trilled, the picture of poise as she removed her hand and wiped it on the bedsheet. “You were gone for a tick there.”
“Oh really?” Madeira worked to detangle herself from the Madame, panting in small breaths to keep from triggering another coughing fit. “And why, pray tell, was that so necessary?”
“I told you: you were gone.” The woman leveled her client with her sharp, almost feline eyes. Madame Belladonna’s long career as a whore and Aldgare Dusk’s long career as an aurist intersected in this one bizarre way: both could read other people like a book.
“Dira save me”, Madeira groaned theatrically, finally managing to tuck her legs safely beneath her. “My life is just… moving slower than I’d like. Nothing is happening.”
“You mean you’re not making anything happen."
Belladonna’s smile was an incredible thing, somehow both innocent and wicked. Madeira watched the slow drag of her lips in awe. How was even the flash of her teeth sexy? Her voice was the low purr she used to both inflate and puncture the ego of every man to cross her path. She was a terrifying creature.
“You’re the most driven girl I’ve ever seen, my dear”, Belladonna went on, leaning over the bed to retrieve the still smoldering cigar. She dropped it carelessly into one of the two drained crystal wine glasses on the nightstand. “If you wanted it bad enough, you would already have it.”
Madeira laughed, dropping back to her haunches. “What if I don’t know what I want?”
“I think you do.”
Aurists and whores. She shook her head ruefully, impressed rather than annoyed that the woman could see through her.
“Okay, fine. My problem is that I want too many things.”
She wanted Chiona’s hand, and Rotsam’s head. She wanted to be seen and she wanted to be hidden. She wanted to win Sagallius’ favour. She wanted to win Dira’s favour. She wanted to never see another god again. She wanted forward momentum and change. Her soul had been born hungry. But being pulled in so many directions was making her loose the path she was on.
This wasn’t enough, not anymore.
The thought had been stewing dull and poisonous for days now. She could feel herself stagnating, dissolving into this bed in this city in this life. She sighed through the smoke and let her arms fall above her head. Her knuckles cracked on the floor and the bolt of pain sang sweetly in her bones.
“I’ve been accused of many, many delicious things”, Belladonna’s tone was sweet, but the icy drip of her words let Madeira know the sigh offended her. “But I’ve never been accused of boring someone. What’s wrong, my-dear-ah?”
“I’m just tired”, Madeira murrmrred around the cigar, her eyes falling closed as Belladonna’s painted nails played across her protruding ribs like a piano. “And perhaps a little lost.”
“If you lost this, I know where it is”, Belladonna’s voice dropped in a way Madeira had learned to fear, and that was her only warning before the Madame grabbed something that should never be grabbed with that much force.
Ashes shot halfway across the room as Madeira sucked in a startled breath and immediately began to sputter and cough. The half-lit cigar tumbled out of her mouth and left a tiny burn scar on the hardwood floor.
She wheezed something that might have been a swear or perhaps a yelp. Red-faced and wet-eyed, calling upon every muscle in her body, she shot up and smack the woman’s hand away.
“There you are”, Belladonna trilled, the picture of poise as she removed her hand and wiped it on the bedsheet. “You were gone for a tick there.”
“Oh really?” Madeira worked to detangle herself from the Madame, panting in small breaths to keep from triggering another coughing fit. “And why, pray tell, was that so necessary?”
“I told you: you were gone.” The woman leveled her client with her sharp, almost feline eyes. Madame Belladonna’s long career as a whore and Aldgare Dusk’s long career as an aurist intersected in this one bizarre way: both could read other people like a book.
“Dira save me”, Madeira groaned theatrically, finally managing to tuck her legs safely beneath her. “My life is just… moving slower than I’d like. Nothing is happening.”
“You mean you’re not making anything happen."
Belladonna’s smile was an incredible thing, somehow both innocent and wicked. Madeira watched the slow drag of her lips in awe. How was even the flash of her teeth sexy? Her voice was the low purr she used to both inflate and puncture the ego of every man to cross her path. She was a terrifying creature.
“You’re the most driven girl I’ve ever seen, my dear”, Belladonna went on, leaning over the bed to retrieve the still smoldering cigar. She dropped it carelessly into one of the two drained crystal wine glasses on the nightstand. “If you wanted it bad enough, you would already have it.”
Madeira laughed, dropping back to her haunches. “What if I don’t know what I want?”
“I think you do.”
Aurists and whores. She shook her head ruefully, impressed rather than annoyed that the woman could see through her.
“Okay, fine. My problem is that I want too many things.”
She wanted Chiona’s hand, and Rotsam’s head. She wanted to be seen and she wanted to be hidden. She wanted to win Sagallius’ favour. She wanted to win Dira’s favour. She wanted to never see another god again. She wanted forward momentum and change. Her soul had been born hungry. But being pulled in so many directions was making her loose the path she was on.
x
