we caught onto something

And I know I'm asking too much
And I know I'm taking control

Sometimes, Sohalia liked to challenge herself by going into the Silk Houses, just to prove that she could do so and make it out unscathed. Of course, she never went unarmed, especially not these days - but just the act of going in and making it home without having been attacked or assaulted made her feel just a bit braver, just a bit safer, like maybe her city was better under her leadership than it used to be.

She hadn't braved the brothels since that night she'd danced with Ellyra, but she had found that she had a certain soft spot for the White Hart, which had some of the best drinks she'd ever had. Besides, being out at a bar - even when she often went by herself - was less lonely that staying at home all alone. What was it that Ellyra had told her? That people craved power - craved her.

Soh had yet to determine if that was a good or bad thing.

But she kept coming out, if only for a temporary reprieve from the insanity of the world beyond the White Hart's walls - a world where she was somebody and was expected to act accordingly. She never got quite as drunk as she had that night at Molly's, thank the gods, but she still enjoyed the warm bliss that enveloped her after a few drinks. Just now, she was two tequila sunrises in and nearly ready for a third, and she had to admit that she should probably stop after that. She would do no one any good if she made herself into a fool, especially not where everyone could see her.

But a heart that's not worth breaking
Isn't worth much, not at all

Sohalia

Maea

Rest against my pillow
like the aging winter sun

It was all a terrible misunderstanding. Maea did not frequent brothels. She most certainly did not work at brothels either. The very concept was so laughable that she had folded over when the owner suggested it, and the subsequent scuffle as Maea tried to leave and a number of soft-limbed creatures in flimsy gowns had swarmed her with talks of baths and perfume and 'it was just at the bar', and 'didn't you say you were helping out?' and without quite knowing how, the Ancient woman found herself bathed and plucked and groomed, dolled up in the most ridiculous outfit - white, frilly and nearly sheer in places that made her want to curl up in a ball and hide - and plunked down behind the bar.

If she only knew who to blame for this... blood would flow.

It definitely did not help that the number of people that flocked to get end of the counter never ceased. Heads kept turning, voices murmuring and she knew it was because of her horns. Possibly also due to her hair; white and silky soft, they had combed out the tangles and rolled it into curls, that now bounced across pale shoulders like snow on snow.

Was this what an animal in a display felt like? Ogled, commented, like she wasn't a person at all? Why anyone would want to be the center of attention was beyond her comprehension.

Shrinking back any time a hand sought to touch her, Maea tried her damndest to keep from baring her fangs at anyone. It was just for the night, she repeated to herself. Just this once, and then she would be fine and never set foot in Stormbreak again, no matter how anyone begged her to help. 'Just guard the cargo between Torchline and Stormbreak,' they said. 'Just help unload at the customer, it'll be fine' they said. Phah!

Only wake each morning to
remember that you're gone