Post by Rosalynn on Sept 9, 2007 0:00:00 GMT -5
The pale woman had stopped only briefly at the front desk to gather a key, much to the surprise of one behind the desk she was alone and asked for a room on the third floor for three days. She nodded her thanks to the puzzled clerk and took the elevator to her floor. Once inside the room she went straight to the bathroom, dropped her bag on the floor beside the door, and eased herself into a hot bath in the large tub.
The bath lasted hours, she had always loved hot baths and thanks to modern convinces she could keep the water temperature to her liking. She wrapped herself in the fluffy robe provided and scooped up her clothes and bag and went to collapse on the bed. She would attend to her business when she awoke.
Eris woke up refreshed, she had fed the night before so the monster that was her insatiable thirst was at bay for now. She dressed in a black dress reminiscent of the 1950's, pulled her long curly hair back into a pony tail with a red scarf and pulled a black leather journal and a pen from her bag.
She didn't know what possessed her to write her story, but she figured that at her age she was free to do what she wished. Curling up on the love seat that was provided in the room Eris took pen to paper and began writing her tale.
I was born in Sparta in the year you know as 439 BCE. My mother had bore my elderly father six strong warriors but when it came time for my birth, only I made it. My youngest brother was 10 years older than I, and my eldest 22 years so her duty to Sparta had been fulfilled. I may seem cold to you, but I grew up in a time of war and to see three of my brothers return home to my father on their shields I learned early on the role of women in my society. The men could train the boys to fight, but only the women could give birth to them.
We were not simply 'baby making machines" as I have read some so eloquently put it. At the age of 16 my father died, and I received my fair share of the estate. In fact, I came to own the house I had been born and raised in. While girls my age were getting married and having children in Athens, I was running my household as I saw fit and it wouldn't have been until I was 18 that the prospect of matrimony would even had been brought up. Unfortunately for me I was never given the opportunity to serve my Sparta as my mother had. I died at the age of 17.
My sister-in-law and my youngest nephews were having dinner one night when a handsome man one of my brothers had fought with two years before returned to our city. When the men had finished their dinner and returned home my brother brought this man back with him. I felt contempt for the man that had walked back so long after my brother had been carried home, but he told my brother stories of being held captive by some strange men. He did not go into detail, he didn't need to, he had won my brother over when he said he had killed them both and escaped. After then man had left my brother talked to me of marrying him next year, little did my brother know I would not make it to the wedding day. We argued about the man and I returned to my own house in anger. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and he was sitting there waiting for me. I told myself I would attend to the slave that had let him in when this was all over with, but I never got the chance. He had killed those who had let him in and attacked me there in my own home.
He forced me to drink a taste of his blood after he had drained me of most of mine, only a taste. I still curse him for this. My death was a horrible one, at first I could not move. My eyes wide in fright I tried to escape him, but no muscle would contract, no scream would sound. It was painful as my organs shut down one by one, and eventually I took in my last ragged breath. My heart gave one more strained beat after this and an eerie silence ensued.
I lived with my sire for a while, learning from him what he had learned from his "captors." I had no intention of doing him any harm until I learned from him the story of how he had come to be what he was. He had been wounded and dying on the battle field next to my dead brother and scared of the death that would soon follow he had accepted the dark gift from a pale man and woman that went from each dying soldier, draining the remaining hardy Spartan blood from their veins. I could imagine him laying on the blood soaked ground begging not to die, pleading with them to save him. Anger boiled within me and in a blind rage I killed him, leaving him to the fate he should have found that day with so many others. I know that many clans see this as the unforgivable sin, but this coward had betrayed who he was, those that had died beside him, and my Sparta.
Eris put her pen down and stared at the words on the page. Would those reading her words understand? Would they know what it was to be who she was, have the heritage that she had, the pride that welled in her chest? Would they know what it meant to be Spartan? Thinking further on the subject she realized it would be unlikely anyone would read what she had written and with a smile she shut the book for now. She would finish her story later. Right now? She felt the desire to find herself some companionship for the night, possibly put this room to good use.
The bath lasted hours, she had always loved hot baths and thanks to modern convinces she could keep the water temperature to her liking. She wrapped herself in the fluffy robe provided and scooped up her clothes and bag and went to collapse on the bed. She would attend to her business when she awoke.
Eris woke up refreshed, she had fed the night before so the monster that was her insatiable thirst was at bay for now. She dressed in a black dress reminiscent of the 1950's, pulled her long curly hair back into a pony tail with a red scarf and pulled a black leather journal and a pen from her bag.
She didn't know what possessed her to write her story, but she figured that at her age she was free to do what she wished. Curling up on the love seat that was provided in the room Eris took pen to paper and began writing her tale.
I was born in Sparta in the year you know as 439 BCE. My mother had bore my elderly father six strong warriors but when it came time for my birth, only I made it. My youngest brother was 10 years older than I, and my eldest 22 years so her duty to Sparta had been fulfilled. I may seem cold to you, but I grew up in a time of war and to see three of my brothers return home to my father on their shields I learned early on the role of women in my society. The men could train the boys to fight, but only the women could give birth to them.
We were not simply 'baby making machines" as I have read some so eloquently put it. At the age of 16 my father died, and I received my fair share of the estate. In fact, I came to own the house I had been born and raised in. While girls my age were getting married and having children in Athens, I was running my household as I saw fit and it wouldn't have been until I was 18 that the prospect of matrimony would even had been brought up. Unfortunately for me I was never given the opportunity to serve my Sparta as my mother had. I died at the age of 17.
My sister-in-law and my youngest nephews were having dinner one night when a handsome man one of my brothers had fought with two years before returned to our city. When the men had finished their dinner and returned home my brother brought this man back with him. I felt contempt for the man that had walked back so long after my brother had been carried home, but he told my brother stories of being held captive by some strange men. He did not go into detail, he didn't need to, he had won my brother over when he said he had killed them both and escaped. After then man had left my brother talked to me of marrying him next year, little did my brother know I would not make it to the wedding day. We argued about the man and I returned to my own house in anger. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and he was sitting there waiting for me. I told myself I would attend to the slave that had let him in when this was all over with, but I never got the chance. He had killed those who had let him in and attacked me there in my own home.
He forced me to drink a taste of his blood after he had drained me of most of mine, only a taste. I still curse him for this. My death was a horrible one, at first I could not move. My eyes wide in fright I tried to escape him, but no muscle would contract, no scream would sound. It was painful as my organs shut down one by one, and eventually I took in my last ragged breath. My heart gave one more strained beat after this and an eerie silence ensued.
I lived with my sire for a while, learning from him what he had learned from his "captors." I had no intention of doing him any harm until I learned from him the story of how he had come to be what he was. He had been wounded and dying on the battle field next to my dead brother and scared of the death that would soon follow he had accepted the dark gift from a pale man and woman that went from each dying soldier, draining the remaining hardy Spartan blood from their veins. I could imagine him laying on the blood soaked ground begging not to die, pleading with them to save him. Anger boiled within me and in a blind rage I killed him, leaving him to the fate he should have found that day with so many others. I know that many clans see this as the unforgivable sin, but this coward had betrayed who he was, those that had died beside him, and my Sparta.
Eris put her pen down and stared at the words on the page. Would those reading her words understand? Would they know what it was to be who she was, have the heritage that she had, the pride that welled in her chest? Would they know what it meant to be Spartan? Thinking further on the subject she realized it would be unlikely anyone would read what she had written and with a smile she shut the book for now. She would finish her story later. Right now? She felt the desire to find herself some companionship for the night, possibly put this room to good use.