keep my head above water

Sarya had never really been one for using the front doors. It was a habit born from a childhood spent in a whorehouse. Even as a young girl lurking in the shadows, she'd drawn unwanted attention from the drunken, drugged patrons. It hadn't taken her long to learn to avoid the front door at all costs, instead sneaking in through the kitchens or, when she got a little older, a window. Once her mother died and she left the whorehouse, her training reinforced the back-door-is-better philosophy. Now, in a new land of which she had no knowledge, using the front door just seemed like asking for trouble. Announcing herself to everyone who happened to be in a room? Inviting them to stare at her, memorize her face?  No, thank you. Sarya did much better when she was invisible. She lurked outside a massive building not too far from where she had awoken. She'd watched for a while, seen people going in and out. It looked like a temple, or, at least, the kind of building that had once been a temple. If there were gods in this land, it looked like they were long gone. After all, almost everything was in ruins. Still, people seemed to congregate here. And where there were people, there was food, water, and money just waiting to be taken. Perhaps she could sneak in, relieve a few people of their purses, and start a new life. She wondered briefly where these people lived in such a vast wasteland. Figure it out later, she told herself. For now, food. The girl reached up, twisting her dark hair out of her face and pinning it with the gilded pin from her vest pocket. A few strands fell free, framing her square face. She wasn't one for tight, fierce hairstyles. Despite her job and personality, she preferred to keep her looks soft, inviting. It worked better for her that way. Hair secure, Sarya moved out of the shadows of a ruined building and stalked toward the temple-thing. Her movements were graceful, purposeful, as though she were meant to be precisely where she was at any given moment. She'd walked around the great building a few times to get the lay of the land. Around the back was a side entrance, possibly to a cellar. It was perfect for Sarya's purposes: if she was lucky, she could sneak in, grab some food and drink, eavesdrop to learn about her new home, and be out before she was even seen. Perfect. When she first slipped through the cellar doors, she'd thought that her plan had worked perfectly. She crept along the tunnel once her eyes had adjusted to the poor light, listening carefully for movement ahead. Suddenly, though, she found herself standing in a large, open, occupied room that perhaps used to be a cellar, but now appeared to be a tavern. The noises that she had assumed to be overhead were, in fact, coming from this room, and she cursed herself for being tricked. Now that she was here, though, she couldn't well turn and leave without looking suspicious. Sarya settled a carefully neutral expression on her pretty face and stalked to the bar, leaning back on her elbows to watch the people surrounding her. text. "talk" Sarya Daemenor so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing