The Goldspires burned
Infernal beacons where once monuments to commerce reigned,
the City of Coin was paved in red, river stench mingling with smoke and cries of fear.
It felt no further away no matter how much our little boat surged on.
Being rendered to ash was the only home I had ever known.
It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
—
The orphaned aspired to little in Athkatla.
In quiet hours I enjoyed sneaking into the Gem District.
A poor, lonely girl could experience lingering perfumery the peddlers were renowned for.
Each would conjure a grander, more fantastical dream than the last.
That’s where Isokita found me.
She, in a jewel-encrusted palanquin, deigned to pause when spying a scrawny child.
I feared being thrown in the stocks but was invited to join her tour.
At the time, I thought she wanted to parade me around as a plaything.
I remember her perfume as dark and smoldering, like an incense of worn leather —
an alluring, comforting familiarity.
—
That powerful socialite wore her age with dignity and grace.
She continued to summon me,
and I would accompany her and conduct all manner of errands.
The luxuries my new patron bestowed were exciting.
But I would be lying to say that I was blind to how I was being cultivated.
I craved her praise.
—
As a grown retainer I was invited to Isokita’s festivities each moon.
One fateful night I struggle to distinguish from dream.
The heady intoxication of wines and pipeweed roils around hot flashes of bated breath.
Everywhere are enveloping, yearning hands.
I, a velvet conspirator.
A surrender to blissful sopor that I sank into for eternity…
But I was not alone. Nor would I ever be again.
—
Isokita was regal, even at her end.
Even with the Horde marching on the city.
We would always walk the same path, though our selves would part.
She’d arranged a smuggler to secure my passage by water.
I had but to choose life.
To embrace what — and whom — awaited.
Unconditional, into those tender hands.
Of course I was afraid.
But such a choice was simplicity itself.
Infernal beacons where once monuments to commerce reigned,
the City of Coin was paved in red, river stench mingling with smoke and cries of fear.
It felt no further away no matter how much our little boat surged on.
Being rendered to ash was the only home I had ever known.
It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
—
The orphaned aspired to little in Athkatla.
In quiet hours I enjoyed sneaking into the Gem District.
A poor, lonely girl could experience lingering perfumery the peddlers were renowned for.
Each would conjure a grander, more fantastical dream than the last.
That’s where Isokita found me.
She, in a jewel-encrusted palanquin, deigned to pause when spying a scrawny child.
I feared being thrown in the stocks but was invited to join her tour.
At the time, I thought she wanted to parade me around as a plaything.
I remember her perfume as dark and smoldering, like an incense of worn leather —
an alluring, comforting familiarity.
—
That powerful socialite wore her age with dignity and grace.
She continued to summon me,
and I would accompany her and conduct all manner of errands.
The luxuries my new patron bestowed were exciting.
But I would be lying to say that I was blind to how I was being cultivated.
I craved her praise.
—
As a grown retainer I was invited to Isokita’s festivities each moon.
One fateful night I struggle to distinguish from dream.
The heady intoxication of wines and pipeweed roils around hot flashes of bated breath.
Everywhere are enveloping, yearning hands.
I, a velvet conspirator.
A surrender to blissful sopor that I sank into for eternity…
But I was not alone. Nor would I ever be again.
—
Isokita was regal, even at her end.
Even with the Horde marching on the city.
We would always walk the same path, though our selves would part.
She’d arranged a smuggler to secure my passage by water.
I had but to choose life.
To embrace what — and whom — awaited.
Unconditional, into those tender hands.
Of course I was afraid.
But such a choice was simplicity itself.
Micarue Cata
Race: Human, Chondathan/Shou
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Origin: Amn, Athkatla
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 126lbs
Build: Thin
Skin: Fair
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Blonde
High cheekbones framed by blonde waves, fierce brows and grey eyes. She speaks softly, but readily meets one’s gaze. The worldly may recognise a faint Shou heritage and Athkatlan accent.
(Art by _Z eD_)
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