(Miho)

Somehow, everyday, I always imagine myself spending the nights alone.

I have nothing against company, really.

I’m never in one place long enough for anyone to bother.

Besides, who in such a rich, pristine, virgin city would care to lay gentle hands on a rough and scarred mercenary?

Everywhere in the Peridot, the people’s eyes showed her personality had saturated them all the way to their soul.

Swords were playthings. Bloodshed could hardly be conceived. War was a silly childish notion. Everything was beautiful. Everything was pure and bright and innocent.

She believed it.

Everyone believed it.

Save one. He was in the palace, held back by bars no one could see until they’d lived outside. He was bound and locked away.

Everyone thought he was free. Those who couldn’t’ see that he wasn’t weren’t’ free themselves.

No, she didn’t’ have their souls. I take it back. She only had their eyes.

She would welcome a rabid mouse into her arms, but these people would turn away a man covered in dust and dirt, not even bothering to see the blood on him.

I hated this place when I left.

I hate it now that I’ve returned.

I pride myself on being honest. There is a want for angels, and there are many who’d slice through strangers to get their hands on a live one.

So, there shall always be a want for rescuers. Elves are in danger inside; Angels are in danger outside. Either one would have a spare scrap of a meal, a weapon, a small purse, or a small shiny trinket to exchange. I’m not picky, but I need to survive too, and I’m the one people try to slice through.

Now, though, the only one I wished to save was me.

Somehow it was proving more difficult.

Maybe I never dreamed of another because this was where I knew there were people without weapons drawn against me. That and more urgently I ended to want a bath.

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