I wonder each time I see her, ever since we lost one another, if she imagines a life we might have had outside of all of this, if we could have escaped the choke hold the Guild held on the city. If we could have made a way for ourselves, her with her charms, I with my knife.
I wonder if she imagines the laughing voice of our dead friend, if she can still picture his face the way I can. I wonder if she takes to the half-breed’s bed with pleasure now, or if her eyes are as dead for him as they appear to me when we have passed one another in the halls, on the streets. I wonder if she is anything the girl I remember, or a grown woman now, a stranger to me, if I am a stranger to her, after all these years, her with her charms, I with my knife.
I wonder if I could save her, if she would let me, if what she knows now is more comforting than an unknown future of freedom. I wonder these things while I cut purses and throats for coin, for gems, for a master we both serve with a willingness and hatred mixed, her with her charms, I with my knife.
I wonder if she remembers my ageless face, my surrendered name, the way I remember her bright eyes and whispered promises the night I bled for us, the night she bled for us, both of us to keep the other safe.
Her with her charms, I with my knife.
I never know if these things are part of something larger or if you have written them to appear that way. In the end, I don’t much care. I’ll take it.
Part of something larger that may or may not ever see the light of day. But it gets the voices out, as it were.
Why no light of day for it?
Your interest makes me wonder if I’m too hasty. Maybe I’ll do something serial on here. ‘Adventures of The Swift’.
It’s already written after all…
Only in my head. When I say ‘part of something larger’ I only meant in potential scope, sorry.
That’s okay. Keep er coming.