#miriyam

[valhallanrose]

I’m snickering at the peaches bc they’re so out of place but tumblr says no to nips

anyway have a morning after type CG with Miriyam, she’s eyeing you up for a round two

[bisqueri]

Mille x Miriyam OC

I can’t help making new oc’s.

[valhallanrose]

Hey guys I’m joining the spring wedding trend super late because I actually had an idea for Miri - so now she’s wife-able.

In other news, Miriyam hates wearing white and has no chill when it comes to color choices.

[valhallanrose]

Hi, here’s that bath thing I mentioned earlier. 

I don’t really know what it is about Miriyam, but she’s really fun to draw. I’m not good at scars yet so I gotta figure out how that works but hey, it’s progress. Also, really happy with how the lighting turned out - it’s not awful? For a first try I think I’ll give myself credit. 

Anyway, here’s my offering to all of you and your apprentices. Miriyam thinks you’re all cute. 

[valhallanrose]

Love Like Yours, Day Three: Say It Like You Mean It

I borrowed Cadenza of @arcanecadenza​ for this piece, so i won’t be tagging the LLYF as this is oc x oc. Still though I’m gay for these gals. 

A moment of realization and a letter unsent.

                                                   *     *     *     *     *

The night had been cold, reddening noses and cheeks as the snow began to fall on the walk back to Cadenza’s shop. Miriyam hadn’t minded - merely offering an upraised arm for an always freezing Cadenza to curl under. 

It had been a normal night for the pair. Dinner at Cadenza’s favorite Venterrean restaurant, quiet conversation shared over a warm meal and plans made for the next evening spent together. But as the snow fell, the flakes wide and heavy, something had changed for Miriyam. She couldn’t name it, nor did she realize it in the moment, but looking back upon it made it undeniable. 

She’d stood next to Cadenza on her doorstep, arm still wrapped around her and one hand bare to try and rub warmth into the magician’s arm as she jammed the key in the lock and forced the door open. Warm air greeted them both, and Cadenza seemed to melt, stepping into the doorway before turning to give Miriyam her customary kiss on each cheek. 

Miriyam didn’t know why, but as soon as that first kiss landed on her cheek, her arms wrapped around Cadenza and pulled her close with hands spread over her back. Her lips pressed to the corner of Cadenza’s mouth, making the dark haired woman freeze as Miriyam pulled back and grinned down at her. She could have sworn she saw Cadenza’s lips turn up at the corners, making her own grin soften before Cadenza seemed to blink back into focus. 

She’d practically howled with laughter when Cadenza ripped off her shoe, throwing it with deadly aim at Miriyam’s rapidly retreating back. She’d taken the time to throw it back, giving Cadenza a cheeky wink and a two fingered salute before she ducked down the next street that would lead her home. 

Even in the cold, Miriyam felt something warm blooming in her chest, warming her from the neck up and turning even the tips of her ears pink as she thought of the expression on Cadenza’s snow-kissed face. 

It was a thought she held close all the way home, her step so much lighter than before as the snow gathered on her hair and shoulders. 

                                                  *     *     *     *     *

Cadenza,

A friend of mine told me once that writing a letter you never mean to deliver can be cathartic, releasing feelings and thoughts into the world when you no longer believe you can contain them. 

I think that friend is full of shit, but here I am, trying to sift through the cause of this odd sort of ache in my heart whenever I think of you. 

In reality, I know what this feeling is. It is impossible not to know something so strong, so intense, so all-consuming in every way every time I find you lingering on my mind (which is more often than I will ever care to admit). I see everything I have ever wanted in you, and that scares the shit out of me. 

Love is a terrifying, heart wrenching, undeniably intoxicating thing. 

There are few things that have ever truly frightened me this way. By the gods, I think I feared death less than this. Death, at least, is something I find I can understand.  But love breaks you open to lay your heart bare, and I had spent too long guarding my heart to want to fall willingly. 

Some fall slowly over time, their affection growing piece by piece for another person you are willing to let in. 

I knew when I met you that there was something about you, something pulling me in, making me want to stay near. I don’t think it was love at first, more so intrigue for a person unlike any other I’d ever met, but it changed. 

I have wracked my mind searching for a moment where it changed for me, but as I write this, I realize that I too fell gradually. Every day, piece by piece, you worked your way into my heart beyond the defenses I’d tried to create for myself. I don’t know if you even intended it to be that way, but there you are. 

Love is terrifying for the way it lays not only your heart bare, but your deepest flaws and insecurities, the things you keep buried deep inside. 

I can’t help but wonder if I deserve to love you, knowing what I have done before fate or the gods or whatever higher power there is led me to you. I can easily say that I have not been a good person, that I have made very questionable decisions, and I’m not sure I regret any of them. But when I look at you, when I hear your voice, I can’t help but just forget for a few moments of peace. 

I’ve never really experienced that before. The days I see you, be it for moments or hours, I sleep soundly for the first time I can remember. You soothe me, set me at peace, and that is something I will forever be grateful for. 

Regardless of if I ever share my feelings, I will always be grateful to even experience something like this, no matter how much it unnerves me. You are warm - not physically, because my god, your hands are always fucking freezing - and whether you believe it or not, that warmth has done wonders for me. 

It is impossible not to love you in every moment in every day, from every frog-patterned garment you own, to the furrow of your brow when you’re focusing on a new piece, to the freckles on your skin that I could swear rival the stars. You are everything I could have ever dreamed and more. I don’t want to just survive anymore, I don’t want to live. I want to thrive. 

And as I come to the end of my thoughts for you - temporarily, never you worry - there is one last thing I find myself wishing I had the courage to say. 

One of many meanings of the word ‘cadenza’ refers to a solo added to a concerto, typically near the end. 

Should my concerto come to a finale now, there is no Cadenza I would rather have added to the end of me. 

I am completely and undeniably yours, my love, my amore. 

I love you.

Miri

[valhallanrose]

Peachy Keen

5,079 words

A letter from an old friend sends Miriyam back to Prakra and down beneath her streets, into a familiar world of burlesque and bloodshed.

Peachy Keen takes place approximately a year after the bargain struck in Court of Swords. CoS is not necessary to understand this piece, but I’m using it to establish a timeline for Miriyam’s story.

Court of Swords can be found here. 

Miriyam’s burlesque routine can be found here. 

CW for implications of assault and violence. Some not safe for work content ahead, but not graphic.

Parts of Prakra were illustrious, all shining marble and high towers that breached the clouds far overhead. At night, when the moon hung heavy and full overhead, its light would illuminate the mist on the canals with a sort of ethereal glow that clung to the gondolas that passed through them. 

Miriyam preferred the darker underbelly, raucous in comparison to the gentle quiet of the streets overhead. She felt at home among the warm red glow of the lanterns and the scent of smoke thick in the air, blending easily among the gamblers and the drinkers and the rest of those with less savory habits. 

She found herself tucked away in a corner of a bar that night, cigarette burning low between her lips and an empty flagon set before her on the table. Her mind was elsewhere as she tugged the letter from her pocket, skimming through it between glances up toward the door. The page was well worn and heavily creased, as if she’d opened and closed it a thousand times before despite the simple message. 

*    *    *    *    *

Miriyam, 

I know it’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, but I find I’ve been reminiscing lately. I implore you, come to Prakra as soon as you can. I’ll wait for you in our favorite haunt beneath the theater. I’d love for you to buy me a bottle of Golden Goose. 

Anika

*    *    *    *    *

Unassuming as it was, Miriyam had dropped everything and raced back to Prakra nearly as soon as this letter was in her hand. 

Anika had been her lover, years ago, but the two had wanted different things from their relationship: one wanted to move forward, and the other was content where they were. So they split semi-amicably, and before she left, Miriyam had offered a balm for them both - should Anika ever need her, ask for a bottle of Golden Goose. 

It seemed silly at the time, but Miriyam had still been working for Adelram, and she was afraid of their letter being intercepted by prying eyes - and neither of them could reasonably afford it at the time, anyway. She swore she would come as quick as she could, no matter the cost or reason, but she hadn’t heard from Anika since. 

And for Anika to use that now, after all this time...it make Miriyam’s stomach clench to think she was in any sort of danger. 

When Miriyam looked up again, she caught the door easing open, and an indescribable feeling crept down her spine as she caught the familiar shade of emerald green, the lilies woven into the braid that was pulled over the woman’s shoulder. 

She watched those wide brown eyes flick over the patrons in the bar, the way she pulled her cloak a little tighter, and felt her heart leap up into her throat before Miriyam managed to shove herself out of her chair to wave Anika closer. 

Gods, she hadn’t changed a bit. 

Anika’s eyes landed on her, narrowing slightly before recognition flashed beneath her lashes. Miriyam was hardly out of her seat before Anika rushed her, throwing her arms around the taller woman and burying her face in her chest with a trembling sigh of relief. 

“You really came.” Anika whispered, voice trembling as Miriyam’s arms fell around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “I thought you would have forgotten.”

“There are a lot of things wrong with me, but my memory isn’t one.” Miriyam teased gently, earning a quiet laugh from Anika before the two eventually settled back into the booth. She reached out, clasping Miriyam’s hand tightly in both of her own as the silver haired woman put out her cigarette with the other. “Tell me, Anika, what’s going on?”

Anika shrugged, stroking her thumbs over Miriyam’s gloved knuckles and refusing to meet her eye. “What if I just want to catch up? It’s been so long, after all…did you do something different with your hair?”

Miriyam sighed, reaching out and gently tipping Anika’s chin up with the side of her hand. She wasn’t surprised to see the tears welling up in Anika’s eyes, but she shifted her hand anyway, letting Anika lean her cheek against her palm as she spoke. 

“Anika, there was a time I knew you better than I knew myself. I’d like to think you haven’t changed that much in six years.”

The green haired woman laughed and closed her eyes, a few tears dampening Miriyam’s palm before she wiped them away. “Yeah, you always did see through me. One of the things I loved about you, you know.” She sighed heavily before she continued, squeezing Miriyam’s hand lightly. “You...you remember my place, right?”

“Dove and Orchid? Yeah, I remember, you worked your ass off getting that thing off the ground. It’s doing alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s doing alright. Great, actually, up until recently.” Anika straightened, rolling her lip between her teeth. “I, um...Miri, someone’s hurting my girls.”

That caught Miriyam’s attention. 

Dove and Orchid was a dancer’s club, built for more...promiscuous entertainment than some preferred. Anika hadn’t cared - she was the first performer at Dove and Orchid and had done everything she could to create an environment that was comfortable for patrons and dancers. As far as Miriyam understood, that was the reason for Anika’s success. She treated every dancer like her family, made sure they felt safe and secure so long as they were under her employ. 

And that’s how she knew it broke Anika’s heart to think anyone would hurt any of her dancers. 

“I don’t know who, but apparently it’s been happening for a few weeks - one of them came to me just a few nights ago and told me a man she didn’t recognize broke into her dressing room after her performance. He…” Tears began to fall hotly down Anika’s cheeks again as she spoke. “I tried to ask the city guard to come, post someone to keep them safe, but the one I spoke to told me they were asking for it and just laughed me off. Four of my girls have been attacked, Miri, and nobody will help us. I don’t know what to do, or who else to turn to, and I know you have every right to go back to wherever you came from - ”

Miriyam hushed her carefully, taking both of her hands and grasping them tightly as Anika tried to catch her breath. “Hey, hey, Anika - I’m not going anywhere. I told you a long time ago that if you ever needed me, I would help you, no matter what. Nothing will keep me from that now, you understand?”

Anika nodded slowly before she lowered her head, bringing Miriyam’s hands to her mouth and pressing a shaky kiss to her knuckles. There were no words needed - the gratitude cascaded off Anika in waves as the two sat in comfortable silence.

*    *    *    *    *

Several weeks had gone by since Anika’s initial approach, the pair having decided the best approach would be to bring Miriyam in as a dancer to keep her from any suspicions. Her tattoos and scars could be easily hidden - Anika was an adept illusionist - but they had to bring her up to speed on the aspect of performance. 

And by the gods, Miriyam had never been more grateful for the grueling training she had undergone to gain her flexibility and endurance. 

Dawn till dusk, she found herself in the rehearsal space, all while the club remained on a temporary hiatus. Anika had loosened just the right set of pipes to flood the space enough for some renovation to occur, buying them enough time to build Miriyam’s cover. 

The night before the Dove and Orchid was set to reopen, Anika approached with a bottle and a pair of champagne flutes, their voices low as Miriyam let her tug and lace up parts of her costume between sips of the sparking liquid. 

“So...you still need a stage name.” Anika mused, deft hands lacing up the skirt at Miriyam’s hip. 

The silver haired woman snorted, arching a brow and glancing down at the other. “You were serious about that?”

“As the grave.” Anika playfully smacked Miriyam’s hip before retrieving her champagne flute. “Some of the girls have been tossing them around. They seem to like ‘Silver Fox’ for you.”

Miriyam groaned and laughed, her head falling back so she could look up at the intricately painted ceiling. “Dear gods, that’s awful. Please tell me that’s not what I’m going under, I might just leave the country.”

With a soft giggle, Anika shook her head, refilling their flutes before she answered. “Thankfully, no, but I am taking one of their other suggestions. You know how you always hunt down peaches for breakfast?”

“Breakfast without fruit is poor breakfast indeed.” Miriyam shrugged, leaning into her hip as she watched Anika drop into one of the armchairs. “What about it?”

Anika raised her glass, as if in toast, a playful smirk pulling at her lips. “Welcome to the Dove and Orchid, my dear Peachy Keen.”

Anika took a long swig of her champagne, leaving Miriyam to ponder the name for a long moment. Golden gaze fixed on the wall, one hand ran down her side, smoothing over the intricate embroidery and the pearl beading. She pulled at one of the thigh high stockings before closing her eyes, heaving a deep sigh and emitting a single word in response. 

“Fuck.”

*    *    *    *    *

It took about two weeks before any real changes occurred. 

When the Dove and Orchid reopened, business had been a little slow as the word spread. It took perhaps a week for all the seats to fill again, another three days for even standing room to be hard to come by.

Miriyam spent her nights rotating between dancers, one night on stage followed by another night on the floor as a waitress of sorts to get a handle on the crowd. Whenever she wasn’t on the floor, she was backstage with Anika, eagle eye watching over the dancers as they moved about the building. 

But the nights on the stage…

She hadn’t ever considered burlesque as an option for herself. She didn’t believe herself to be an exhibitionist, and the idea of anyone she knew finding out was fairly mortifying, but there was a different sort of thrill she got from being up under the warm glow of the lanterns as her body moved to the thrumming music that filled the hall. It was easy to separate her nerves by viewing her body as a tool, another in her arsenal, as a means to an end - it made it easy to lose the self-consciousness that came from stripping down on stage. 

Despite the fact that she was technically on a job? She had a fucking blast. 

But the job always came first. Early on she’d spoken to each of the girls, getting details from each about the man they had seen, sketching face after face until she finally got one all four agreed upon. She knew who she was looking for, was always on the lookout, but that two week mark was the true beginning of the hunt.

It started small - the hair on the back of her neck rising at the feeling of someone lingering beyond her peripheral, things moved around in her dressing room, pieces of her costumes going missing. It was irritating and - though she’d never admit it - nerve-wracking, but she could do nothing until they showed themselves. Too soon, and she might scare them off completely. All she could do was wait and be wary, wait and watch for the inevitable slip of the man who cast a long shadow over the Dove and Orchid. 

And slip he did. 

*    *    *    *    *

About a month into Miriyam’s time performing at the Dove and Orchid, she slipped out onto a darkened stage, dressed in her personal favorite of the costumes Anika had pulled together for her. The outfit was layered with fabrics of gold and peach, the bust trimmed with freshwater pearls. There were laces at her back and her left hip, cream colored gloves pulled up above her elbows, and sheer stockings pulled up around her exposed thighs. 

The music began before the lights started to warm, casting the stage in a pale pink glow and illuminating the bits of shimmer Anika had dusted on Miriyam’s collar and high cheekbones. The silence grew into wolf whistles and shouts as she cast a cheeky wink out to the crowd, dragging a hand lazily up her exposed thigh before she truly began to move. 

Lip caught between her teeth, she slid down carefully from the carousel horse, hips swaying in time with the music until the backs of her thighs touched the sparkling stilettos Anika had all but forced onto her. As soon as they did, she was up and moving, body swaying as she made her way across the stage. 

Hips rolled, gloved hands slid down over her breasts, down to her hips and over her thighs while a teasing smile pulled at her lips. She grasped the front of her skirt, buttons popping as she bared her thighs and pulled the split fabric up to her hips in favor of showing off her well-toned legs. 

She always did like her legs. 

With a flick of the wrist, the rest of the buttons popped, allowing her to cast the underlayer of the skirt aside. A playful smile over the shoulder, a roll of the hips, and she strode toward the carousel horse settled centerstage. She pushed down on it, where it tipped on its rocking base, then caught her glove between her teeth at the tip of her finger. 

One of her legs lifted, the inside of her ankle skimming up her knee and high on her thigh as she worked that silken glove down her arm until her wrist. She turned, grinning as she kicked a leg up, wrapping the glove around the rod set through the wooden horse’s back and pulled it down the metal surface with a laugh.

There. 

A man, light eyes and dark hair, the dim lighting of the Dove and Orchid just enough to let her see the distinct curve in his nose. The second girl had broken it - the third and fourth pointing it out in their own descriptions that led to the final image. There wasn’t a doubt about it in Miriyam’s mind. 

He was here again tonight.

There you are, you motherfucker. 

Steeling her nerves, she kept up that playful look, tugging on the laces of her skirt at her hip as someone near the front let out a loud whistle. She easily pulled open the wrapped fabric, briefly showing off the garter belts holding up her stockings before the skirt swung shut again. Miriyam turned her back toward the audience, lowering the skirt briefly to give them the briefest glimpse of her ass, laughing as she saw a young woman choke on her drink and repeating the motion when she saw her blush. 

Despite her outward calm, Miriyam was keenly aware of the man’s eyes now that she’d seen him - and she knew as soon as the hair rose on the back of her neck that there was no chance she’d made an error. 

The skirt was tossed aside, quickly followed by each of her sparkling stilettos before she eased herself up onto the wooden horse’s back. She swung her leg over, pitching her hips forward against the gold plated rod, setting the prop into motion as her legs swung with it. One hand grasping the pole, she leaned back, shooting Anika a wink when she saw her in the back before she pulled her legs beneath her. 

Kneeling on its back, her hips lifted, bumping forward against the metal before her hand connected with her ass in a solid slap. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Anika snort, shaking her head as Miriyam dismounted and dragged a hand up her thigh before her hands traveled up to her back. 

The corset was relatively easy to unlace - the cords were just long - and came off in moments, swung in a circle over her head before it too was tossed aside. She laughed when it slid and someone grabbed for it, knowing Anika would be a bit displeased to have to track it down, but her mind was elsewhere in the moment. 

The practice had paid off - her body moved easily in time with the music, but her mind was set back into her mercenary ways. She was taking in each exit behind her playful smile, each glance cast over her shoulder ensuring her target was still there and still attentive throughout her performance. Perhaps it wasn’t the most conventional method, but...it certainly seemed to be working. 

With the garter belt gone, Miriyam leapt up onto the carousel horse’s back, its base tipping dangerously before her weight settled. She stripped off her stocking, swinging her leg out in time with each beat of the music, down until the very tips of her toes before it came off and fluttered through the air. 

She eyed the crowd, gesturing to the metal rod, raising a brow and grinning when the whistles grew louder. A few huffs of breath, and she playfully polished it with her balled up stocking, earning her a few goading shouts as she gestured to it again. When it grew louder, she grinned, then leaned forward and dragged the flat of her tongue up the cool metal as languidly as possible. 

It fogged under her the heat of her breath, and she pulled away, laughing as she threw the first stocking down and began to pull the other off. Her hips rolled against the pole as she did, and as soon as the stocking was off, she reached for the ribbon at her hip - then shook a finger at the shouting crowd as if to scold them. 

Her eyes shifted toward her target for the briefest of moments - 

Good. He was still there, still watching, but...there was this look in his eye like he wanted to devour her where she was. And not like the other looks she got when she did this - something behind his eyes, behind that ravenous gaze, set her on the razor’s edge as she reached to unhook her brassiere. 

As her routine drew to a slow close - her chest rolling, her hips swaying as she pulled the last layer before the barely-there panties she wore away - her mind was already in the dressing room. 

She was cataloging the knives bolted to the underside of her vanity, how much time she needed to get there and how he could get in, but she managed a smile as she leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the wooden horse’s nose in time with the last note of the music behind her. 

And as the lights in the room dimmed, she saw him slip away, toward a passage that she knew led backstage and eventually to her dressing room. 

And so the hunt began. 

*    *    *    *    *

Wrapped in a silken robe, Miriyam quickly settled in at her borrowed vanity, taking off the heavy necklace and earrings she’d worn as she lifted her knee into the hilt of the dagger fastened to the surface. Her eyes were focused on her reflection, but her senses were cast elsewhere, searching for any disturbances in the room as she tucked the jewelry away. 

Her shoulders tensed imperceptibly as a floorboard creaked just beyond the sight of the mirror, off to her left, but she simply maintained her outward focus as she reached to unfasten her hair from Anika’s careful style. 

Then the hand settled on her shoulder, seconds before an arm wrapped around her throat and yanked her back off the stool at the vanity. 

Legs tangling with the stool, Miriyam was thrown off balance, her assailant pinning her arms under his other as the first tightened around her neck. Her knee slammed into the bottom of the vanity as she clawed at the arm at her throat, her vision going terrifyingly spotty as she found herself unable to pull in a full breath of air as it pulled tighter and tighter. 

With what strength she could muster, she thrust her elbow back into the man’s stomach, catching him low enough to make him shout and loosen his grip on her arms. 

She tried to step out of his grasp to make a grab for the knife, but he grappled for her, hand shredding her robe before her right elbow flew back into his jaw. She let out a shout as his hand fisted in her loose hair, but she quickly threw back her left elbow, his hand ripping free as she turned over her shoulder and grabbed the back of his neck. Her knee slammed into his pelvis, and he dropped, giving her time to reach for the vanity before he grabbed her ankle and tried to pull her back. 

But it was enough. She pulled the mirror free, hefting it over her head and slamming the silver-backed object down over his head. 

Glass splintered and showered around the pair, but the weight of the mirror was enough to knock him down for the count and give Miriyam the chance to catch her breath. 

Slowly, carefully, she picked her way around the broken glass and unstrapped her dagger from the underside of the vanity. With an eye on his prone figure, Miriyam slowly opened the door, calling out to Anika from within the dressing room. 

Unfortunately, in a place like this, restraints were not quite an immediate find. 

Anika was there in moments, a few of the other girls whispering behind her as Miriyam held her shredded robe shut over her breasts.

“Careful, Anika, there’s glass everywhere.” Miriyam murmured, gesturing loosely to the remnants of the mirror all over the floor. “I’ll reimburse you for the mirror.”

The emerald haired woman waved a hand, eyes fixed on the unconscious man hardly ten feet beyond the doorway. “Don’t worry about it, I always thought that mirror was ugly. But...this is him?”

A silent nod, and Anika stepped into the room, shutting it behind her to leave herself and Miriyam alone inside. 

“What are you going to do?” She murmured, and Miriyam shrugged, lifting the dagger held in her left hand in a wordless answer. Anika nodded, heaving a deep breath before she locked the door behind her and folded her arms over her chest. “Good…good. What can I do?”

Miriyam picked her way through the glass, her hands passing over the thick fabric hung on the wall before she dragged her knife through it. When she had four thick strips in her hand, she nodded to the man, then one of the chairs tucked away in the corner. “Help me get him into that. You want answers, don’t you?”

Anika nodded, the pair making quick work of his wrists and ankles with a bit of effort to actually get him to sit upright in the chair. The emerald haired woman dusted her hands off and shot Miriyam an amused look, then tugged on one of the knots she’d tied at his wrist. “Well, this is familiar. Last I remember, though, I was the one tied down.”

The silver haired woman choked on a laugh, shaking her head as Anika started to kick the broken shards of glass under the vanity. “Different circumstances, I’d think.”

“I hope. I have pleasant memories of that time.” Anika sighed dramatically, turning the stool over so it sat upright as Miriyam rolled her eyes. She leaned back against the vanity, lip caught between her teeth as Miriyam checked each of the knots, mulling over something before a raised brow prompted her to speak.

“Are you going to make it quick?”

With a feline smile, Miriyam stepped forward, carefully making her way toward the man and stroking a hand through his hair as he started to stir. After a moment her hand tightened into a fist, yanking his head back and exposing his throat to them both. “Not if you ask otherwise.”

Anika’s gaze was of matching intensity, and Miriyam’s eyes flashed an unearthly gold in the darkened room. “Make him answer for my girls, Miri. They’ll sleep soundly knowing they’re safe again.”

With a predatory grin spreading across her lips, Miriyam rounded on the waking man, the sounds of screams and the scent of blood thick in the air when she descended on her prey. 

It would be hours before the final spray of blood splattered against the wall and her blade split his throat in two.

*    *    *    *    *

Anika’s girls were exceptional at body cleanup, Miriyam soon learned. They were all too eager to help dispose of him, removing all traces from the place that had been their sanctuary long before his presence tainted the boundaries of the Dove’s walls. 

The silver haired woman had chosen to lay low after the fact, but a few days later, she found herself in Anika’s office with a glass of wine in hand. They sun hung low in the sky beyond the stained glass window, casting their faces in a rainbow of warm color as they spoke quietly between themselves. 

There had been a long silence before Anika spoke up again, her words making Miriyam tense behind the glass raised to her lips. 

“Miri...I know things didn’t end well between us…” She started, staring down into the ruby liquid. “There are so many things I didn’t get to say back then or that I didn’t say right. And seeing you all these years later...I think you made the right choice, as much as it felt like you didn’t at the time.”

Miriyam sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair and letting the heel of her boot fall onto the heavy mahogany of Anika’s desk. “Oh, so we’re going there? Thought I might be able to dodge that…”

She set the glass aside and folded her hands over her abdomen, closing her eyes in thought. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to reflect recently. Mostly on my life and how I lived it, if I’m honest, and I’ve been thinking about us long before I got your letter.” She waved a hand loosely before it fell back against her stomach. “I loved you, Anika, and I think a part of me somewhere still does. But I don’t think I ever could be the woman you wanted, and I would have been an awful wife back then. We were just a couple of stupid kids caught up in each other whenever the room was dark enough to get our hands down each other’s blouses.”

Anika laughed softly, standing and circling the desk to perch on the edge of the armchair Miriyam was seated in. “As much as I wanted you to say yes back then, I know you’re right. But by the gods, you were this passionate little thing, and I think I was so worried about losing you that I drove you away on my own.”

Miriyam felt her lip tug up at that, huffing a laugh through her nose. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re too kind. I was a disaster, you can tell me that. Nineteen year old Miriyam needed a swift kick in the ass and I’m shocked nobody gave it to her. It would have been well deserved.”

With a laugh, Anika leaned down, kissing the top of Miriyam’s head. The gesture was laden with unspoken affection, but not the romantic affection they’d once had. Slowly, Miriyam opened her eyes, golden eyes meeting warm brown as Anika smoothed away a few pieces of silver hair from her face. 

“You’re a good woman, Miri, even if you were a hellion as a kid.” Anika teased, folding her arms over her chest. “And if I know anything about you, it’s how quick you are to depreciate your own value. I just hope that one day you can understand what you’re truly worth.”

Miriyam was quiet before she surged out of her seat, reaching for her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She kissed Anika’s forehead before giving her a raucous grin, one hand shoved into her pocket. 

“Maybe. We’ll see what plan the gods have laid out for me.” She mused, striding over to the globe Anika had perched on her desk. She tapped a point on its surface, the gold leaf lettering bright in the setting sun. “I’ve got a contract. Ship leaves tonight, bound for Vesuvia. I’ll be there for about six months before the contract ends and I move elsewhere. I’d like you to write to me sometime, preferably before another six years goes by.”

Anika nodded, wrapping her arms around Miriyam in a loose embrace until the taller woman returned it. 

“I’ll try.” She whispered, then leaned up and pressed a kiss to Miriyam’s cheek. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? You can always stay in Prakra a bit longer.”

Miriyam couldn’t help the grin that spread across her lips, shrugging her shoulders as she slipped from Anika’s arms and toward the door of her office. 

“While such an offer warms my cold, dead heart...I think it would be good for me to move on.” Miriyam laughed as Anika punched her in the side, grumbling to herself about idiot women as she continued. “Don’t worry, Anika. I’ll be...how shall I put it? I believe the term is ‘Peachy Keen’?

Anika slammed her glass down, shoving at Miriyam’s back with a sound of disgust. “That’s it, get the hell out of my building. I don’t know why I thought I missed you, I hate your puns, I hate your face, get out - !”

Miriyam grabbed the doorframe as Anika tried to force her through it, grinning over her shoulder when she saw the smile pulling across Anika’s face. “You love me.” She crooned, then stumbled when Anika’s knee planted itself against her ass and knocked her hands free of the doorframe. She just laughed and turned, walking backwards and giving Anika a two fingered salute as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “See you around, Ani!”

“Never will be too fucking soon!” 

Miriyam’s laughter would echo back to her, a fond smile on the woman’s lips and her heart lighter than when she had arrived, leaving the Dove and Orchid behind for the very last time.

[valhallanrose]

2,500 words of a girl, a patron, and a bargain...

Court of Swords depicts Miriyam’s background, namely an event that influenced a major decision in her life. I wanted to put it together to bring her to life just a bit more, so...here we go!

Miriyam wasn’t unfamiliar with dreams of death, so ‘cold’ and ‘dark’ were two adjectives she could easily apply. 

‘Gold’ and ‘scaly’ were not. 

As she came to, she could pick out a few things about her situation even before she opened her eyes. 

One: her hair, normally tightly braided back, was loose and cascading down her shoulders. It pooled beneath her head in her reclined position, swept carefully away from her face by an unknown hand. 

Two: The leather bodysuit she had been wearing was pristine, not a spec of blood or hole or tear on it. There was no arrow, and she was perfectly dry, as if she’d never been up on those gods-damned flagstones in the pouring down rain. 

Three: Warm air washing over her, ruffling the silver waves and the lace trimming her nightdress. It was steady, like breathing, but there was far too much air to be another human being. It was much larger, and by extension, much more nerve wracking.

The first time she’d opened her eyes to see the source of the breathing, she’d squeezed them shut again, not sure if she was really seeing things right. 

If she was dead, why the fuck was she looking at a dragon?

I know you stir, sword-child. 

Miriyam flinched, dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks before she eventually forced herself to open her eyes. 

The molten gold of the dragon’s eyes was warm yet analytical, peering down at Miriyam as if looking through her very being. They sat there for a long moment - the woman laid out on the gold of the dragon’s hoard, tucked carefully under a broad wing, head arching over her body as she slowly sat up. 

“You know, I didn’t expect whatever afterlife this is to consist of a dragon.”

That earned Miriyam a huff of breathy laughter, echoing with a thousand voices, then gave her a gentle nudge to her shoulder with a massive silver snout. 

There are worse places to be when you step beyond the mortal realm.

Miriyam paused, a hand trailing down the side of her neck as her brow furrowed. “What...what happened...?”

As soon as the words left her lips, the space over her heart twinged. A split second later, it tightened painfully, and Miriyam could only gasp and tighten a hand over the taut leather of her attire. 

The feeling of the arrow first piercing her leather armor and lodging in the flesh of her breast.

Unable to catch the ledge she was trying to jump to, slamming into the wall with a force that forced the arrow through her heart and out her back. 

Falling...the world rushing up…

The sound her neck made when it snapped on the cobblestones far, far below. 

Miriyam felt a hard push at her side, drawing her out of that vision - her neck still twinging slightly as she looked up with burning eyes to meet the gaze of the dragon. 

It would be wise not to dwell on the circumstance that brought you here. 

“What else can I do?” She whispered, raking a hand through her hair and leaning against the creature’s scaly side. “I expected a lot more fire and brimstone on the other side. You know, ruminating on the weight of my sins for eternity, burning in hellfire, that sort of thing.”

For as long as she wished for it, for as many times as she’d danced with death...she didn’t know how to feel. A part of her was grateful for the end: she’d never had a reason to truly live, always wondered why she was put on the earth only to be left unguided and alone on her walk through existence. 

But the part of her that had been forced away when the iron-clad whip came down on her back was crying, screaming, wanting nothing more than to fight tooth and nail to simply breathe again.

The dragon heaved a breath and lowered his great head, settling it across her lap carefully. 

Correction, sword-child. You stand now on the precipice, a foot on each side of the veil. Not quite there, but not quite gone, either. So you are here, on the last vestiges of your essence - with a choice to be made. 

Miriyam paused halfway through lifting her hand to stroke the dragon’s scales, palm falling instead to rest on the heap of gold coins beside her thigh. “What choice...?”

Your essence holds tightly to the barest threads of your magic, anchoring itself to your mortal body, but it cannot stay that way forever. You must decide whether to stay, to pull yourself back...or to let go and fade into oblivion. 

“I don’t understand.” Dark brows furrowed, golden eyes burned with brewing tears she refused to let fall. “There’s no way I could have survived...maybe the arrow, but my neck…even if I could go back, I’ll die anyway because of the damage to my body. Isn’t it better to just let go now?”

The dragon huffed and shook his head slightly, shoving his head under Miriyam’s hand in a motion that briefly reminded her of an attention-starved puppy. Those who stand behind logic alone miss the intricacies of the truth. You must look beyond the understanding of your world to make sense of how it will change based on your decision here and now. 

After a beat of pause, he spoke again, voice far gentler as her hand stroked over his snout. 

What would you give, child, to think yourself whole again?

Miriyam laughed - though the sound was choked as a single tear streaked down her cheek. “Do I deserve that? Of so many others, begging for the same...how can I claim that?”

The past weighs heavily on you, doesn’t it?

If she was honest with herself...no. No, it didn’t. She did not live with regret for what she’d done, the blood she’d spilled for survival and for sport. She was a shell, empty, and always had been. 

Or perhaps what weighs on you more is what you’ve never had. 

As the dragon pressed his snout to her temple, Miriyam’s vision faded before flashing into vivid color - but not of the treasure trove she sat in. 

Visions of a woman whose face seems so familiar, smiling as she pressed her forehead against a younger Miriyam’s. Laughter as Miriyam tangled herself in the arms of a lover, her back smooth and unscarred as she sprawled across their chest and tucked herself against them. Unbranded hands, grasping the hands of another and pulling them in close to her chest.

Others were places. White sand beaches and snippets of a musical-sounding language Miriyam could recognize yet couldn’t understand. Wind whipping through a forest, grass licking at her ankles and moss under her bare feet. The snap of sails catching the wind, the sea lashing at the hull of a ship she’d never been on. But there was always this feeling...

Simple, unbridled happiness, echoing through each vision of what could have been in another life. 

You are young, and yet you live as if you believe the end of the road is just around the corner. You believe there is no chance for you to have what you have always wanted, and perhaps in some instances, that will be so - no mortal life can live free of pain or sorrow. Such feelings are the consequence of existence, the consequence of a beating heart and a body of flesh and bone. 

Blue eyes met gold, the latter swirling like molten metal fresh from the forge. 

Your path diverges here. You may choose between the finite and the unknown - the end and the distant future. I cannot guide you on what choice to make, but I will be beside you no matter the answer. 

It was a long time before Miriyam answered, the tears overwhelming and chest heaving as she sobbed against the dragon’s smooth scales. It waited patiently, head craning around her shoulders in the closest thing it could create to a comforting embrace. 

“I am so, so tired.” She managed, voice broken and shaking. “It would be so much easier to give in and let go…”

Perhaps it would be, sword-child. But is that truly what you want for yourself?

“What I want…?” Miriyam whispered, burying her face against the side of the dragon’s neck. “I want…”

She hadn’t ever considered that for herself. The day to day had always been the same - get up, walk through the hours feeling like a stranger in her own body. It only worsened with every contract, every time blood spilled on her hands and left a stain behind long after the crimson vanished down the drain. And yet...deep down...

“I want to live.” She breathed, the weight of this newfound realization slipping from her shoulders. “There’s still so much I’ve never seen, never had, and if I let go now…”

Miriyam sighed, tugging on a few strands of hair. “When I go, I want to be able to rest peacefully. And if nothing else...I don’t think I could rest easy knowing I didn’t give myself the chance.”

With a rumbling chuckle, the dragon turned his head, snout forcing warm air over Miriyam’s face as he looked at her. 

And you have your answer. 

“And yet I’m still here.” Miriyam closed her eyes and sighed heavily, wiping at her wet cheek. “My options are a damaged, death bound body...or letting go on my own terms.”

That earned Miriyam a gentle nudge to her chest before the dragon straightened to his full height, wings flaring and legs flexing as he found purchase on the sliding mound of golden coins. 

Oh, sword-child, I forget how unlike the rest of my patrons you are. 

Before Miriyam’s eyes, the dragon’s scales began to glow, forming intricate swirling patterns as they climbed up his forelegs and toward his chest. 

I hear the truth in your heart. If you truly desire to return to the earth, to live as you please...as King of the Court of Swords, I offer you a bargain. I will restore your body to allow for your return to the mortal plane...but in return, you must give me something as well.

Her brow furrowed as she craned her head back to meet the dragon’s glowing golden eyes, thoughts swirling wildly around her head. “I don’t understand...what could I possibly give you that you don’t already have?”

The dragon made a gesture that looked like a loose shrug of its front shoulders. 

Knowledge. The Court of Swords revolves around the mind and intellect, the thoughts, attitude, and beliefs of the querent - but none of us can walk the mortal plane like you can. I rely on my patrons, each tainted with an agenda to gain something from our interaction. But you would have already gained all you desired - your sole agenda would be to live as you never had before. 

“Well, I’m certainly not a scholar.” Miriyam snorted, tucking her hands loosely into her pockets. “What knowledge would you want from me?”

Think of it as a long term investment in my own pursuit of knowledge. When you return to me, before you pass through the veil...you will tell me about the life you lived. Tell me of love and loss, of your joys and sorrows, and everything in between. 

That seemed...too simple. “You just want me to...tell you about my life?”

Another rumbling chuckle. Perhaps it is nothing but folly. We Arcana have eternity to live, to learn, and to understand, but...we are simply archetypes. We lack the complexity and range of experience that your kind holds dear. The King of Swords believes in trusting the truth, finding the appropriate sources to learn from - and you shall be mine. As I said, for the pursuit of knowledge. 

His glowing snout reached down, pressing to her forehead and making Miriyam close her eyes. 

“That’s it?”

That’s it. 

She mulled over that for a long, long moment, only their breath filling the silence in the air. 

It seemed too good to be true, and yet...what did Miriyam have to lose? Even if he wanted more in the end, wasn’t anything worth the chance for life again?

With a deep breath in, she placed her hands on each side of the dragon’s snout, her voice soft as the swirling light began to creep down her hands and arms. 

“I accept.”

*    *    *    *    *

Miriyam had awoken several days ago, laid out on a slab in Adelram’s morgue, frankincense and myrrh thick in the air to cover the scent of death and decay. She’d scared the shit out of the priestess that had been leaning over her, performing some sort of last rite, but she was too happy to be breathing to give a damn as to how she got there or the state of her body. 

Adelram had just laughed, slapped her on the back, and told her she really did sleep like the dead. 

She’d have believed it was a miracle if not for the physical changes that had begun mere hours after her awakening. 

Her eyes had gone first - once clear, crystal blue had morphed into molten gold. They never seemed to settle, always swirling unnaturally, indicating something beneath the surface that even she didn’t know how to explain to those who asked.

But it was her hair that had shocked her more. 

Once as dark as night, the blue-black of her hair had begun to lighten before the first streaks of silver began to appear. They spread rapidly, nearly overnight, until her hair was silver from the crown of her head all the way down to ends at the small of her back. 

It was eerie, sometimes, to look in the mirror and not recognize the reflection staring back. 

It was in front of a mirror that Miriyam stood, hands braced on the bowl of the wash basin. She stared deep into that unnatural gold of her eyes, colors glittering and spiraling, knowing that the new feeling coursing through her veins was energy not her own, manifesting in her body where they could not be contained. 

Patron of Swords, which way will you go? 

She took in the scars littering her golden brown skin as the rumbling voice echoed in the depths of her mind, tracing two fingers idly over the new skin above her heart. Her eyes trailed down to the braid hanging limply over her shoulder, the scars down her chest, the pain behind each of them and remembering the blades that caused them. 

The hand over her heart shifted, grabbing the braid and pulling it taut while the other picked up the dagger she’d left on the edge of the basin. With a deep breath, she quickly brought the dagger up to the base of the braid, slicing through in a single motion. 

The choppy strands settled around her jaw as she released the heavy braid of hair, but the weight lifted from her was more than just the length of it no longer against her back. 

“I go forward.” She whispered, feeling pride not her own trickling over her senses. “To somewhere better.”

[valhallanrose]

Hi, I’m actually really excited with how this is turning out, so here’s an excerpt from my next writing piece while I work on wrapping it up. I plan for it to go up tomorrow so have fun putting together what it is - except you, @arcanecadenza, because we were talking about this a few hours ago lol

Anyway, excerpt under cut and I’m looking forward to posting the whole thing soon!

“So...you still need a stage name.” Anika mused, deft hands lacing up the skirt at Miriyam’s hip. 

The silver haired woman snorted, arching a brow and glancing down at the other. “You were serious about that?”

“As the grave.” Anika playfully smacked Miriyam’s hip before retrieving her champagne flute. “Some of the girls have been tossing them around. They seem to like ‘Silver Fox’ for you.”

Miriyam groaned and laughed, her head falling back so she could look up at the intricately painted ceiling. “Dear gods, that’s awful. Please tell me that’s not what I’m going under, I might just leave the country.”

With a soft giggle, Anika shook her head, refilling their flutes before she answered. “Thankfully, no, but I am taking one of their other suggestions. You know how you always hunt down peaches for breakfast?”

“Breakfast without fruit is poor breakfast indeed.” Miriyam shrugged, leaning into her hip as she watched Anika drop into one of the armchairs. “What about it?”

Anika raised her glass, as if in toast, a playful smirk pulling at her lips. “Welcome to the Dove and Orchid, Peachy Keen.”

Anika took a long swig of her champagne, leaving Miriyam to ponder for a long moment. Golden gaze fixed on the wall, one hand ran down her side, smoothing over the intricate embroidery and the pearl beading. She pulled at one of the thigh high stockings before closing her eyes, heaving a deep sigh and emitting a single word in response. 

“Fuck.”