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Aster proves she can be more than just a pretty face.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Hidden Talents

Postby Asterope on February 25th, 2019, 3:32 pm

52nd of winter, 518 AV

She supposed, as far as jobs for slaves went, that cleaning wasn't the worst. Aster wiped down the old, creaky table with a damp cloth, wrinkling her nose as dust drifted into the air.

She was still waiting for Alard to demand more base uses of her, to make use of her rather than one of the many whorehouses she assumed the city had to offer. So far, he had kept his hands off her; she wasn't sure if there was a reason for it, but she counted it as a small blessing.

Still...dusting and tidying the small apartment hardly made Aster feel productive. Finishing wiping down the table, Asterope turned to dunk the cloth in the small bucket of water, mindful not to dip her injured hand in the dirty water.

Wringing the cloth out and lost in her own thoughts, she startled when the door suddenly slammed open. Aster whipped around, her heart in her throat, but calmed slightly when she saw Alard. He was a familiar evil, at the very least.

The man looked thunderous, his face set in a deep scowl as he stormed into the room, one hand clutching his other bicep. The sleeve of his shirt, Aster noticed, was wet with blood.

The Eth stood back as Alard stormed across the room, swearing and muttering angrily. She watched him sit on the edge of the bed, hissing in pain as he pulled his shirt off roughly. It gave her some measure of satisfaction.

Of course, now she had a dilemma. Did she go against her very nature, the deep instinct that drove her, and let him suffer? It wouldn't be lying to say a dark part of her would enjoy it. Or did she do what she knew was right, and offer to help?

As she watched, torn between her options, Alard reached up to prod at the cut on his bicep, and her decision was made for her when she spoke automatically, her tone slightly chiding. "Don't touch it, your hands are dirty. You could get an infection."

Keeping things clean was the first and most important thing she had ever learned; Nara had continued to stress it well into their time together. Infection is more dangerous than any wound, the familiar phrase came to Aster's mind. She could hear Nara's voice perfectly, as if she was right there beside her.

Alard looked up, narrowing his eyes at Asterope suspiciously. "Oh yeah? And how would you know that, sunshine?" He challenged, and Aster realized the corner she'd backed herself into.

The sun will rise, and we will try again
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