Inner Woman

In the past few hands there had been a thread of topic that wove its way into conversations .. family. Although I was pleased that there was now true interest rather than the chiding taunts, it grew uncomfortable when the spotlight was turned to me. Cana and Aiyana had spoken with me a little of my mother. My responses were always warm and open when I spoke of her.

It was a slave that stumbled into the darkness that is reserved for my paternal seed donor. I admit I flared rather quickly. I do not remember much of him. I'd erased his presence from my thoughts as far back as my childhood. What glimpses I can recall I wished I could not. To me he was cruel, cold, demanding without having any emotional attachment. He drove people, he made their decisions for them without any heed to their own wants and desires. His only love was money, land, power. I had no wish to be like him so my life among the Tuchuk suits me well. There is more there than I will speak openly of, revelations that will not come easy and only with trust.

On the other hand, I had no wish to be like my mother either, a woman who lost herself in one man, she gave her all, serving him and his needs quietly, selflessly. I can picture her when I close my eyes, her beauty, the love and deep devotion she would offer in stolen moments. In so many ways she did not exist in more than a shadow. She became nothing because it was what she was to him.

How had the conversation turned to the descriptive differences of camp slaves and personally owned ones? Had my thoughts been so consumed with memories of my family that I missed a part? Perhaps it was about the need for coin now as a slave or rather not having any need of it. Maybe it had something to do with balance, regardless I listened to the definition of slave from another .. the loss of self, giving in totally to be found pleasing if only for one moment in time and seeking nothing further and on to self deprivation to enhance the intensity of the precious moment when something is offered.

I listened to the contrast of Mastery when one is owned by one and only one, only then would there be a wish to know what was within the heart, mind and soul of a slave and the interim to live only for the ihn, to change who or what one is to please one's Master. All the while I was shaking my head. These were many of the things that were part of my training in the cities, but it was so alien to me in many ways. Perhaps it is because I had benefit of different slavers, that my personality was allowed me to a degree. It may be that my own will and spirit are so strongly rooted that it could not be burnt away so easily. I do not mean it to sound as if I believe these things are wrong nor do I believe in my believing differently is necessarily right. Afterall, I am no longer a personal slave.

I can only offer from my own experiences here on the plains. Yes, it was in part the beauty of the elegant serves that brought a bit of notice and too, the absolute adherence to obedience though it was not until I broke from within the confines of that training to stand and speak openly, spiritedly that gained one man's attention enough to place a band of leather on my throat. I told her that it was a wise man that set my path forward. I have never forgotten his words ... One was to live. I may have taken that literally but each day I do. I take care of myself, to ensure that I am healthy. I will snitch a piece of meat from a pot or indulge in a sip of blackwine to ward off a chill. I live not only for every breath that defies morbidity but to snatch as much of the day out as I possibly can ... to see, to feel, to taste everything there is to experience, to be able to offer back as much of the richness that I can hoard into a bounty. I do this because it is my interpretation of what he asked of me.

The Second was to not lose myself. Now there is the fuse that lit the dynamite. It is so easy to lose oneself in the charisma, the vitality of such a virile man. Easy enough that I had felt my own grasp failing me at times. It was not a mere battle of wills to stand on my beliefs but an inner struggle as well. I learn every day more of who I am inside, strengthening her and bringing out her attributes. I stumble, I fall, I pick myself back up and go on with determination but I stand and face the world on my own.

Am I any different, truly, than the description that was offered of a slave, regardless if it is a camp slave or one personally owned? I am still his in my heart, his and his alone. I will always be. My love for him doesn't fade or diminish because I am no longer at his feet. He is a man of magic, a man of ferocity, a man capable of ...

I will learn to thrive here as the woman I am within or I will die holding dear to my promises. I will learn to be strong. Strong enough not to fear even the darkness maybe one day finding it welcoming. I want to see the south again not because it holds any fondness in my heart but it is a passing of time. I want to return to the north here over and over again to investigate all that it has in store. I want to carve out my lot in this life, not just this ihn but ... all of my tomorrows. In the mean time I serve the Tuchuk as a whole ... as me. I will sink my teeth in and bite off a future among the tribe as a woman who loves a man deeply, deeply enough to live for him and not lose herself in doing so. My last breath is not my own anymore ... he has yet to take it and this time I dare fate to try and take what is his.