Trying to stoke the fires
Aug. 26th, 2014 12:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bjornwildeWould-be heroes, monsters, maidens, and magicians. They always came to my hut back in the old days, in the old country. They would always come and think they could pay my price, never quite catching on that it wasn't my price but theirs.
I still remember the taste of the would-be heroes. Their arrogance always put a nice bitter edge to the marrow. The monsters always were good servants, even when they thought they were betraying me. The maidens always had a special place in my guts, even the ones who were smart enough or crafty enough to escape. The magicians I didn't like. Always talking, talking, talking. Showing how much they knew and what power they had. They made good candles though.
Now, in the new world, I still have my fun. The world still needs true heroes after all. Not the knights in armor or the policeman with his pistol. No, I mean a real hero. One who is ruthless and does what needs being done without worrying about things like morals or laws.
The little girl who is before me now might be one such, though she sits there and trembles. Teenager, I remind myself. There were no teenagers in the old country, you were a child or you were an adult back then. So many different things here and now. Computers, planes, teenagers.
The teenager is scared to death of me and yet she sits here sipping my tea and is courteous. That is how I know she could be a hero. Oh, I know she wants something, my cards told me as well as the bones from my breakfast this morning, but I make her wait, give her fear time to overwhelm her and it is failing. Her will or her need is stronger. Which remains to be seen.
"You did not come here for tea," I state as I stir in a little more jam to my tea. I am an old woman, I can indulge.
"They say you are bruja. That you can do anything," she replies and I am surprised to find her voice steady.
"Anything has a price."
"Of course."
"What is it you wish?"
"I would be free of the poison my father feeds me. The dope and crack."
"A simple thing, but what price will you pay me?"
"Anything," she replies, looking up and meeting my eyes.
"Anything," I reply lasciviously and with a wink and a lick of my tongue on my lip. She pales and I cannot resist the cackle. "I am playing child."
She bristles at my calling her a child and takes a drink of tea to hide it and her embarrassment.
"Here is what you will do. There is a man, over by the park. You will find this man and you will tell him I do not like how he handles his business." I spit the word out like it is venom.
"That is all," the girl asks, shocked.
"No, that is not all. You will bring me one of his fingers as proof you have done this. You may chose which finger."
I still remember the taste of the would-be heroes. Their arrogance always put a nice bitter edge to the marrow. The monsters always were good servants, even when they thought they were betraying me. The maidens always had a special place in my guts, even the ones who were smart enough or crafty enough to escape. The magicians I didn't like. Always talking, talking, talking. Showing how much they knew and what power they had. They made good candles though.
Now, in the new world, I still have my fun. The world still needs true heroes after all. Not the knights in armor or the policeman with his pistol. No, I mean a real hero. One who is ruthless and does what needs being done without worrying about things like morals or laws.
The little girl who is before me now might be one such, though she sits there and trembles. Teenager, I remind myself. There were no teenagers in the old country, you were a child or you were an adult back then. So many different things here and now. Computers, planes, teenagers.
The teenager is scared to death of me and yet she sits here sipping my tea and is courteous. That is how I know she could be a hero. Oh, I know she wants something, my cards told me as well as the bones from my breakfast this morning, but I make her wait, give her fear time to overwhelm her and it is failing. Her will or her need is stronger. Which remains to be seen.
"You did not come here for tea," I state as I stir in a little more jam to my tea. I am an old woman, I can indulge.
"They say you are bruja. That you can do anything," she replies and I am surprised to find her voice steady.
"Anything has a price."
"Of course."
"What is it you wish?"
"I would be free of the poison my father feeds me. The dope and crack."
"A simple thing, but what price will you pay me?"
"Anything," she replies, looking up and meeting my eyes.
"Anything," I reply lasciviously and with a wink and a lick of my tongue on my lip. She pales and I cannot resist the cackle. "I am playing child."
She bristles at my calling her a child and takes a drink of tea to hide it and her embarrassment.
"Here is what you will do. There is a man, over by the park. You will find this man and you will tell him I do not like how he handles his business." I spit the word out like it is venom.
"That is all," the girl asks, shocked.
"No, that is not all. You will bring me one of his fingers as proof you have done this. You may chose which finger."
