Briza — Roleplayer Guild

Leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes. Your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him, and you did and now you pull down the bridge between your houses. You make him call before he visits. You take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge, and you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong. They can smell it in the street.Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell / Marty McConnell

The Good Samartian
By Briʓa

Her hands were shaking as she pulled a few pounds from her wallet. I watched as they trembled and carefully placed the brass into the hands of the clerk, standing behind the wooden counter. There was no warm mead to be had in the establishment, but the cold would do just fine for her.  I felt the need to remove my cloak and wrap it around her, but instead I thought, No, her son, the one who had all her attention and heart. I shall clothe him instead, as she seemed to be so distracted by him to not realize how tremendously beautiful she was, standing there stricken cold in all of her simple attire.

I kept thinking to myself, How could I, a man too much of an elder, come across her without seeming as some rich fool or jerk or contrarian to my own philosophical and theological endeavors? A man of my honor had no need for a lady, nor a used one at that. However, I still found myself quite intrigued by her very nature. We had spoken slight words prior to our meeting at the shop, and she had seemed a bit dazzled by my outfit. Though, I thought her simple form, spent in underweight peasantry, was all the more delightful to admire. There was something about her. Perhaps, it was her personality. Whatever it was, I wanted to know, but first, I would put my cloak around the boy.

She was overly grateful for the cloak; black silk with rabbit fur, gold piping, and equally rich buttons. As I tied the cloak around the boy, I heard the ticking of my pocket watch, and was reminded of my own childhood. There were men just like me at every corner in my own day-to-day. Why was this? Because I had been raised in the most eloquent of homes, with the most eloquent of families, with the most eloquent of manners. I had everything handed to me, if not on a silver platter than on something even more lavish. To see such poor creatures, notably aware that my lifestyle existed, pulled my heart into believing this one gesture would be something to give them warmth. If not for a lifetime, then for at least today.

“The pleasure is all mine, madam,” I said with the finest style of speech I could muster; having found that my back was feeling chilly already, no longer being sheltered from the breeze. Thankfully, I had my goblet, and I awaited to see if the lady would say anything before I took a sip for some warmth. She said nothing daintily, and I went onwards with the same chivalrous curiosity that had driven me to comfort her boy with my cloak, by comforting her with my words. “I would never wish to see such a fine young lad as yours fall ill from such a lovely winter. Such tragedy happens all the time, and I shan’t see it happen today, not to yours, anyhow,” I was a unsure if she understood my gesture. She was unusually docile with certain things, and I could tell we were certainly of different classes. 

“‘Comp’ment’d ya attire ya m’ments ago. ‘Eally, ya too kind f’r all’o’s, s’r,” she replied with unstable shyness, and I wanted to lift those spirits for the moment, as there was embarrassment in her manners. She seemed too afraid to say much more, and she had a speech impediment that made it a bit hard to clearly know her wording. I thought perhaps she was from a foreign country, or she had never been taught proper English. I was lead to heavily believe the latter, but as a gentleman, decided not to make assumptions about her, even if the given sin was written all over her. However, With a sudden realization that my status had always made me feel insecure for reasons such as these, I chose to turn a blind eye, as men of my stature did not have the best reputations for treating women in her position well.  I am not God for Heaven’s sake, and neither shall I resort to being a Pharisee who had Christ, His only begotten Son, nailed to the Cross. Today, I believed I could change that, at least for myself, and I followed and supported her gratefulness by begging the question, “Would madam mind if she and her son accompanied me for a scrumptious supper?”

Fin.

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