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jadedmusingsTitle: Unknown Chapter for Untitled Work
Fandom: Original
Prompt: #204 - Chattel
Warnings: Mentions of sex trafficking and prostitution.
Rating: R
Summary: Seeking information about the girl known as Miranda, Jacob pays for the company of Sable...in more ways than one.
Word Count: 2,703
Notes: I was reading through some old things of mine and stumbled across something I started writing on a whim. This happened right about the time this prompt went up, and then I started writing...and it got away from me. I apologize that this isn't something that can stand alone, and there's no previous chapters written to explain any of it (yet). It's not very great (in my opinion), but it's at least given me a jumping off point for an abandoned idea. Time to start on some outlines.
And Elisha, the wang will be posted later. :P Also, in case you were wondering, no I don't think this is very good. Heh.
It was with a small sense of trepidation that I returned to my rented room above the tavern. Trent had assured me a girl would be there within the hour. His use of the world girl prompted me to remind him that I desired a woman who had at least reached the age of majority or else I would send her away and keep my money. I held no illusions that this stipulation would make me better than Trent’s usual clientele, but it did alleviate my guilt, however slightly, for lining the pockets of the same monsters responsible for Miranda’s predicament.
Again I asked myself why it was I wanted to risk so much for a young woman I didn’t know. I wanted to save her from a life of enslavement, yes, but what made her any different than the other women Trent sold to the highest bidder? It was true that her magic potential was too strong to ignore, yet I couldn’t help but wonder how many other women were bought and sold before Mr. George learned of Miranda. Most disturbing of all was the question of whether or not I would still be willing to risk so much for Miranda absent her abilities. It sickened me that I couldn’t answer with an immediate yes.
A soft knock on my door mercifully released me from my thoughts. “Enter,” I said out of habit.
The door cracked open and a dark-haired woman leaned her head into the room. “Mr. Sinclair?” Her voice was soft, timid, and thick with an accent I couldn’t immediately place.
“Over here.” I rose from my seat in the parlor chair and gestured for her to come in.
She hesitated, only stepping fully inside after assessing me visually. Having determined I posed no immediate threat, she entered, tugging at the strap of her summer dress that had fallen off her shoulder. It was at least two sizes too large for her, and were it not for a belt and what I assumed were some cleverly hidden pins, the garment would have easily slipped off and left her exposed.
Once the door closed she gave a little curtsey. Though it was difficult to truly discern in the candlelight, her complexion seemed naturally bronzed, sun-kissed even. I was also relieved that upon initial inspection, she appeared to be much older than some of the other women in Trent’s employ. “I am Sable,” she said, her head bowed. “I will keep you company tonight.”
Her name, I thought, was wrong. The name Sable seemed befitting of someone older, worldlier, and confident in her sexuality. It belonged to a woman with a voice like velvet and satiny skin; a woman whose mere presence could induce a smile in the most sullen of persons. It didn’t belong to this young woman who had never known a life in which she could be more than the source of a man’s pleasure. Like the faded floral dress that sagged over her thin frame, the name spoke of promises too big for her to fill.
Her head raised and her eyes met mine for the first time. They were as dark as her hair, almost black, and in the lowlight of the room, it made for a stunning effect. “Mr. Sinclair?”
Realizing I was staring, I cleared my throat and held my hand out to her. “Please, call me Jacob. Forgive my rudeness, I don’t normally do this.” She placed her hand in mine and I raised it to kiss the back of her knuckles.
Her cheeks flushed and she pulled her hand away, running her palm over the side of her dress as though wiping away my touch. “Master Trent said that if I am not adequate, you may return me and request another.” Return her like she was a piece of malfunctioning merchandise and not a human woman with thoughts and feelings of her own.
A lump rose in my throat and I swallowed to push it away. “That is entirely unnecessary.” I reached for her again, letting my hand rest on her shoulder and bending my knees slightly to try and bring my face level with hers. She kept her eyes cast downward, gazing at her feet. “Why don’t I fix you a glass of wine? It might help both of us relax.”
She pushed my hand aside and took a step backward. “We are not permitted to drink. It clouds the mind, and too many men have tried to drug us.” It didn’t take a sensitive to hear the unspoken words in that sentence. I don’t trust you.
“Ah, I understand.” While I tried to think of something else to say, she moved to the bed and started to unbutton the front of her dress. “What are you doing?”
Her eyebrows came together in an expression of confusion and her hands stilled. “I am getting ready for you.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I averted my eyes as she resumed unfastening the front of her dress, my face filled with sudden warmth. “Could you please stop?”
“You are nervous.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said, keeping my gaze on the wall to my left. “I merely wished to talk with you first.”
She walked back over to me and slipped her fingers into my hand. There was a smile playing on her lips. “We do not need clothes to talk.” She maneuvered her body in front of mine, standing so close to me that I could smell her hair. It reminded me of a field of wild flowers. “I will do anything you ask of me.” She raised my hand closer to her mouth, those dark eyes locked on mine as she kissed the tips of my fingers.
Desire flared and the heat of it traveled across my skin. My barriers faltered and my psychic senses were immediately overcome with the feel of her arousal, which would have been far more pleasurable without the fear and overwhelming sense of dread that accompanied it. She had been terrified that I was going to hurt her, but now she was afraid I was going to turn her away and she would be punished for her inability to satisfy a customer.
Instinctively I brought my hand up to cup her cheek in my palm. “I’m sorry, I had no idea,” I whispered.
Awareness flashed in her eyes and she pushed me away, backing up so quickly that she tripped over the plush rug at the foot of my bed. Her arms flailed briefly as she fell to the floor, landing on her bottom. She continued backing away until her back met with the mattress. “What did you do to me?”
Shit. She’d felt the connection. “Nothing, I swear.”
“Do not lie to me!” she yelled, using the bed to support her as she got back to her feet. “You tried to magic me!” Her eyes were wide with panic and I saw her look at the door. It wasn’t hard to guess that she was trying to figure out if she could make it before I stopped her.
“It wasn’t magic,” I said with as much calm as I could muster. I silently prayed she wouldn’t run and report me without offering me the chance to explain. “I am not a mage, not in the traditional sense of the word at any rate.” I wasn’t sure if it was my words or my demeanor, but her shoulders relaxed somewhat and she didn’t seem quite as ready to bolt for the door.
“You are not from the Deadlands.”
I shook my head. “Gearheart actually.”
She exhaled noisily and rubbed her forehead wearily. “Then you are here on their behalf.”
“I don’t represent the city.”
“Not the city; the Order of Light.” She folded her arms over her chest and gave me a pointed look. “I do not care what your priests say. I would rather stay here and be a whore for men than a whore for your god.”
Now this was an interesting turn of events. Why would the Order of Light proselytize in the Deadlands? Even as a church it still had to adhere to the laws of the city which meant their priests could not practice their magic. Then again, the Order did have the sort of money to pay the authorities to look the other way. It was definitely something I would have to ponder over later. For now, I had to convince Sable I meant her no harm and hope she could give me information on Miranda.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding.” I took a seat in the parlor chair so I could put more space between us. It would give her ample opportunity to escape, but I had to show her I had no intention of harming her. “I am not with the Order, nor am I here on behalf of anyone but myself.” I paused to rest my elbows on my knees, gathering my thoughts. “There is a young girl that Trent is selling to the highest bidder. I was hoping to find out as much information about her as I could, and I thought that you might be able to provide said information.”
“What do you want with her?”
“Nothing except take her far, far away from here before someone discovers what she is.” When in doubt, honesty was always a safe bet.
Sable rolled her eyes to demonstrate her disbelief. “And what is she?”
“A very powerful potential mage.”
“That is impossible,” she asserted, sitting on the edge of the bed to stare at me. “But say I believe you, how is it you found her?”
“A friend told me about her. It was only by sheer luck that I was traveling through on my way back home.” As I spoke, I made sure to make plenty of eye contact to convince her I was telling the truth.
“I see.” She paused to consider me. “Why use magic on me?”
“It wasn’t magic.”
“Fine. What did you do to me that was not magic?”
I fought the urge to grin. Underneath her meek exterior, there was a fighter. If we had met under different circumstances, I would have been very interested in getting to know her. “That was an accident. Your touch caught me by surprise and I lost control of my shields. I sensed your emotions and heard your thoughts.”
“You can read minds?”
I shook my head. “I’m more empathic than telepathic. At best I pick up surface thoughts, but only when they are accompanied by strong feelings such as fear or arousal.”
She blushed. “You should feel flattered. I do not normally feel anything.”
“I am flattered.” I smiled. “And I’m also sorry. I should have told you the truth from the start.”
“It is all right. If this girl is a mage as you say, then she will be in great danger if anyone else learns of her power. Trent does not like trouble. He would hand her over to the council without a second thought.”
“You’re right. He does seem like the sort to worry more about himself than his employees.”
“We are not employees, Mr. Sin—Jacob,” she corrected herself. “We are nothing more than chattel. Our bodies are bargained for, sold, and purchased on a whim.” She rubbed her hands over her biceps as though experiencing a sudden chill. “It has always been this way and will stay this way long after I die.”
I stared at her and tried to think of how to reply. It would be asinine of me to disagree that she was treated as property after I myself had purchased her company for the night. My intentions may have been to do nothing more than gather information so that I could save Miranda, but I was still using Sable in order to do so. The only difference between me and the other men who visited the brothel was that they used her for sex.
She wiped her eyes and looked away from me. “Forgive me I am not normally so…so emotional.”
“No, I understand. I wish I could say something insightful or helpful, but the only thing that comes to mind is to tell you that women like you are not treated this way in Gearheart. Of course, that probably offers little comfort seeing as you must live here in the Deadlands.”
“Women like me?” She was looking at me again her head cocked and her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.
“Courtesans, paramours—“
“Whores,” she interrupted.
“That’s such an ugly word.”
She shrugged. “So? Give it a pretty name if you like, but it does not change the job. You pay money to fuck a woman, yes?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Do not try to romanticize my profession. That is wrong. The men pay Trent money so they can use my body for pleasure. They will use me until there is nothing left of me to use. There is nothing romantic or pretty to be found in this.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s an ugly tragedy.”
She pushed away from the bed and went for the bottle of wine that was still sitting on the bureau so she could pour herself a glass. Either she had lied about the restrictions on alcohol, or she felt safe enough with me to break the rules. I hoped it was the latter.
She threw her head back and drained the glass in a manner of seconds. “Enough of this sad conversation.” She started filling her glass a second time. “Ask me about this girl.”
I took a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Her name is Miranda. I was told she was sixteen, though I can’t be too certain of it. According to Madame Silvie, Trent purchased her from a relative after she was orphaned. With no land or money to offer as a dowry, they found it cheaper to sell her.”
Sable nodded and set the wine bottle aside. She swirled the dark liquid in her glass and leaned against the bureau as she thought. “That is not unusual. Tell me, does he only offer to auction her virginity or her whole person?”
My mouth fell open in a mixture of shock and disgust. It wasn’t enough that these woman’s bodies were forfeit to men, their virginities could be sold for profit as well. Just when I believed Trent’s practice couldn’t become more disgusting, I uncovered some new horror. I snapped my jaw shut and took a cleansing breath before answering. “The whole person I believe, though I was guaranteed of her ‘purity.’”
“Then he thinks something is wrong with her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He has lost three women in the last month. Two ran away to the Order, the other was killed by a customer.” The casual way with which she mentioned the murder as if it was an everyday occurrence chilled me. “He wants to find replacements for those women, and if he purchases a girl, he sells her virginity then keeps her as a whore to make more money.”
“So if he is selling her outright, then he suspects something is amiss?”
“It is possible, yes. But as I said, if he knew of her magic, he would obey the law and turn her over to the council.”
“The question is what does he suspect?” And if it wasn’t magic, what other mysteries might Miranda hold?
Sable shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps her relatives said something that makes him want to get rid of her.”
“Possibly.” I rubbed my face in my hands and sighed. So many pieces to this puzzle were missing which meant there was any number of unknown factors at play. That made planning ahead very difficult.
As if reading my thoughts, Sable said, “There is a problem you have not considered, Jacob.”
“What’s that?”
She sipped her wine and smiled at me over the rim of her glass. “What is there to stop me from reporting both you and the girl to Trent?”
In that instant I stopped worrying about Miranda and began wondering how in Aria I was going to save my own hide.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: #204 - Chattel
Warnings: Mentions of sex trafficking and prostitution.
Rating: R
Summary: Seeking information about the girl known as Miranda, Jacob pays for the company of Sable...in more ways than one.
Word Count: 2,703
Notes: I was reading through some old things of mine and stumbled across something I started writing on a whim. This happened right about the time this prompt went up, and then I started writing...and it got away from me. I apologize that this isn't something that can stand alone, and there's no previous chapters written to explain any of it (yet). It's not very great (in my opinion), but it's at least given me a jumping off point for an abandoned idea. Time to start on some outlines.
And Elisha, the wang will be posted later. :P Also, in case you were wondering, no I don't think this is very good. Heh.
It was with a small sense of trepidation that I returned to my rented room above the tavern. Trent had assured me a girl would be there within the hour. His use of the world girl prompted me to remind him that I desired a woman who had at least reached the age of majority or else I would send her away and keep my money. I held no illusions that this stipulation would make me better than Trent’s usual clientele, but it did alleviate my guilt, however slightly, for lining the pockets of the same monsters responsible for Miranda’s predicament.
Again I asked myself why it was I wanted to risk so much for a young woman I didn’t know. I wanted to save her from a life of enslavement, yes, but what made her any different than the other women Trent sold to the highest bidder? It was true that her magic potential was too strong to ignore, yet I couldn’t help but wonder how many other women were bought and sold before Mr. George learned of Miranda. Most disturbing of all was the question of whether or not I would still be willing to risk so much for Miranda absent her abilities. It sickened me that I couldn’t answer with an immediate yes.
A soft knock on my door mercifully released me from my thoughts. “Enter,” I said out of habit.
The door cracked open and a dark-haired woman leaned her head into the room. “Mr. Sinclair?” Her voice was soft, timid, and thick with an accent I couldn’t immediately place.
“Over here.” I rose from my seat in the parlor chair and gestured for her to come in.
She hesitated, only stepping fully inside after assessing me visually. Having determined I posed no immediate threat, she entered, tugging at the strap of her summer dress that had fallen off her shoulder. It was at least two sizes too large for her, and were it not for a belt and what I assumed were some cleverly hidden pins, the garment would have easily slipped off and left her exposed.
Once the door closed she gave a little curtsey. Though it was difficult to truly discern in the candlelight, her complexion seemed naturally bronzed, sun-kissed even. I was also relieved that upon initial inspection, she appeared to be much older than some of the other women in Trent’s employ. “I am Sable,” she said, her head bowed. “I will keep you company tonight.”
Her name, I thought, was wrong. The name Sable seemed befitting of someone older, worldlier, and confident in her sexuality. It belonged to a woman with a voice like velvet and satiny skin; a woman whose mere presence could induce a smile in the most sullen of persons. It didn’t belong to this young woman who had never known a life in which she could be more than the source of a man’s pleasure. Like the faded floral dress that sagged over her thin frame, the name spoke of promises too big for her to fill.
Her head raised and her eyes met mine for the first time. They were as dark as her hair, almost black, and in the lowlight of the room, it made for a stunning effect. “Mr. Sinclair?”
Realizing I was staring, I cleared my throat and held my hand out to her. “Please, call me Jacob. Forgive my rudeness, I don’t normally do this.” She placed her hand in mine and I raised it to kiss the back of her knuckles.
Her cheeks flushed and she pulled her hand away, running her palm over the side of her dress as though wiping away my touch. “Master Trent said that if I am not adequate, you may return me and request another.” Return her like she was a piece of malfunctioning merchandise and not a human woman with thoughts and feelings of her own.
A lump rose in my throat and I swallowed to push it away. “That is entirely unnecessary.” I reached for her again, letting my hand rest on her shoulder and bending my knees slightly to try and bring my face level with hers. She kept her eyes cast downward, gazing at her feet. “Why don’t I fix you a glass of wine? It might help both of us relax.”
She pushed my hand aside and took a step backward. “We are not permitted to drink. It clouds the mind, and too many men have tried to drug us.” It didn’t take a sensitive to hear the unspoken words in that sentence. I don’t trust you.
“Ah, I understand.” While I tried to think of something else to say, she moved to the bed and started to unbutton the front of her dress. “What are you doing?”
Her eyebrows came together in an expression of confusion and her hands stilled. “I am getting ready for you.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I averted my eyes as she resumed unfastening the front of her dress, my face filled with sudden warmth. “Could you please stop?”
“You are nervous.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said, keeping my gaze on the wall to my left. “I merely wished to talk with you first.”
She walked back over to me and slipped her fingers into my hand. There was a smile playing on her lips. “We do not need clothes to talk.” She maneuvered her body in front of mine, standing so close to me that I could smell her hair. It reminded me of a field of wild flowers. “I will do anything you ask of me.” She raised my hand closer to her mouth, those dark eyes locked on mine as she kissed the tips of my fingers.
Desire flared and the heat of it traveled across my skin. My barriers faltered and my psychic senses were immediately overcome with the feel of her arousal, which would have been far more pleasurable without the fear and overwhelming sense of dread that accompanied it. She had been terrified that I was going to hurt her, but now she was afraid I was going to turn her away and she would be punished for her inability to satisfy a customer.
Instinctively I brought my hand up to cup her cheek in my palm. “I’m sorry, I had no idea,” I whispered.
Awareness flashed in her eyes and she pushed me away, backing up so quickly that she tripped over the plush rug at the foot of my bed. Her arms flailed briefly as she fell to the floor, landing on her bottom. She continued backing away until her back met with the mattress. “What did you do to me?”
Shit. She’d felt the connection. “Nothing, I swear.”
“Do not lie to me!” she yelled, using the bed to support her as she got back to her feet. “You tried to magic me!” Her eyes were wide with panic and I saw her look at the door. It wasn’t hard to guess that she was trying to figure out if she could make it before I stopped her.
“It wasn’t magic,” I said with as much calm as I could muster. I silently prayed she wouldn’t run and report me without offering me the chance to explain. “I am not a mage, not in the traditional sense of the word at any rate.” I wasn’t sure if it was my words or my demeanor, but her shoulders relaxed somewhat and she didn’t seem quite as ready to bolt for the door.
“You are not from the Deadlands.”
I shook my head. “Gearheart actually.”
She exhaled noisily and rubbed her forehead wearily. “Then you are here on their behalf.”
“I don’t represent the city.”
“Not the city; the Order of Light.” She folded her arms over her chest and gave me a pointed look. “I do not care what your priests say. I would rather stay here and be a whore for men than a whore for your god.”
Now this was an interesting turn of events. Why would the Order of Light proselytize in the Deadlands? Even as a church it still had to adhere to the laws of the city which meant their priests could not practice their magic. Then again, the Order did have the sort of money to pay the authorities to look the other way. It was definitely something I would have to ponder over later. For now, I had to convince Sable I meant her no harm and hope she could give me information on Miranda.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding.” I took a seat in the parlor chair so I could put more space between us. It would give her ample opportunity to escape, but I had to show her I had no intention of harming her. “I am not with the Order, nor am I here on behalf of anyone but myself.” I paused to rest my elbows on my knees, gathering my thoughts. “There is a young girl that Trent is selling to the highest bidder. I was hoping to find out as much information about her as I could, and I thought that you might be able to provide said information.”
“What do you want with her?”
“Nothing except take her far, far away from here before someone discovers what she is.” When in doubt, honesty was always a safe bet.
Sable rolled her eyes to demonstrate her disbelief. “And what is she?”
“A very powerful potential mage.”
“That is impossible,” she asserted, sitting on the edge of the bed to stare at me. “But say I believe you, how is it you found her?”
“A friend told me about her. It was only by sheer luck that I was traveling through on my way back home.” As I spoke, I made sure to make plenty of eye contact to convince her I was telling the truth.
“I see.” She paused to consider me. “Why use magic on me?”
“It wasn’t magic.”
“Fine. What did you do to me that was not magic?”
I fought the urge to grin. Underneath her meek exterior, there was a fighter. If we had met under different circumstances, I would have been very interested in getting to know her. “That was an accident. Your touch caught me by surprise and I lost control of my shields. I sensed your emotions and heard your thoughts.”
“You can read minds?”
I shook my head. “I’m more empathic than telepathic. At best I pick up surface thoughts, but only when they are accompanied by strong feelings such as fear or arousal.”
She blushed. “You should feel flattered. I do not normally feel anything.”
“I am flattered.” I smiled. “And I’m also sorry. I should have told you the truth from the start.”
“It is all right. If this girl is a mage as you say, then she will be in great danger if anyone else learns of her power. Trent does not like trouble. He would hand her over to the council without a second thought.”
“You’re right. He does seem like the sort to worry more about himself than his employees.”
“We are not employees, Mr. Sin—Jacob,” she corrected herself. “We are nothing more than chattel. Our bodies are bargained for, sold, and purchased on a whim.” She rubbed her hands over her biceps as though experiencing a sudden chill. “It has always been this way and will stay this way long after I die.”
I stared at her and tried to think of how to reply. It would be asinine of me to disagree that she was treated as property after I myself had purchased her company for the night. My intentions may have been to do nothing more than gather information so that I could save Miranda, but I was still using Sable in order to do so. The only difference between me and the other men who visited the brothel was that they used her for sex.
She wiped her eyes and looked away from me. “Forgive me I am not normally so…so emotional.”
“No, I understand. I wish I could say something insightful or helpful, but the only thing that comes to mind is to tell you that women like you are not treated this way in Gearheart. Of course, that probably offers little comfort seeing as you must live here in the Deadlands.”
“Women like me?” She was looking at me again her head cocked and her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.
“Courtesans, paramours—“
“Whores,” she interrupted.
“That’s such an ugly word.”
She shrugged. “So? Give it a pretty name if you like, but it does not change the job. You pay money to fuck a woman, yes?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Do not try to romanticize my profession. That is wrong. The men pay Trent money so they can use my body for pleasure. They will use me until there is nothing left of me to use. There is nothing romantic or pretty to be found in this.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s an ugly tragedy.”
She pushed away from the bed and went for the bottle of wine that was still sitting on the bureau so she could pour herself a glass. Either she had lied about the restrictions on alcohol, or she felt safe enough with me to break the rules. I hoped it was the latter.
She threw her head back and drained the glass in a manner of seconds. “Enough of this sad conversation.” She started filling her glass a second time. “Ask me about this girl.”
I took a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Her name is Miranda. I was told she was sixteen, though I can’t be too certain of it. According to Madame Silvie, Trent purchased her from a relative after she was orphaned. With no land or money to offer as a dowry, they found it cheaper to sell her.”
Sable nodded and set the wine bottle aside. She swirled the dark liquid in her glass and leaned against the bureau as she thought. “That is not unusual. Tell me, does he only offer to auction her virginity or her whole person?”
My mouth fell open in a mixture of shock and disgust. It wasn’t enough that these woman’s bodies were forfeit to men, their virginities could be sold for profit as well. Just when I believed Trent’s practice couldn’t become more disgusting, I uncovered some new horror. I snapped my jaw shut and took a cleansing breath before answering. “The whole person I believe, though I was guaranteed of her ‘purity.’”
“Then he thinks something is wrong with her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He has lost three women in the last month. Two ran away to the Order, the other was killed by a customer.” The casual way with which she mentioned the murder as if it was an everyday occurrence chilled me. “He wants to find replacements for those women, and if he purchases a girl, he sells her virginity then keeps her as a whore to make more money.”
“So if he is selling her outright, then he suspects something is amiss?”
“It is possible, yes. But as I said, if he knew of her magic, he would obey the law and turn her over to the council.”
“The question is what does he suspect?” And if it wasn’t magic, what other mysteries might Miranda hold?
Sable shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps her relatives said something that makes him want to get rid of her.”
“Possibly.” I rubbed my face in my hands and sighed. So many pieces to this puzzle were missing which meant there was any number of unknown factors at play. That made planning ahead very difficult.
As if reading my thoughts, Sable said, “There is a problem you have not considered, Jacob.”
“What’s that?”
She sipped her wine and smiled at me over the rim of her glass. “What is there to stop me from reporting both you and the girl to Trent?”
In that instant I stopped worrying about Miranda and began wondering how in Aria I was going to save my own hide.
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-19 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-19 05:56 pm (UTC)(Hilariously, while thinking this through I realized that Karl would likely be alive given he was, what? 400+ years old in the Aria campaign?)
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Date: 2010-06-19 06:37 pm (UTC)