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18 June 2013 @ 10:40 pm
My mother--the slut  
Most towns, even really small towns, have the typical inn women. I suppose, in some crazy way, I had some respect for them growing up. At least they made money while they flirted and took men to their rooms. Then, there is the town slut, who doesn't demand a price and does it just because she likes it. Sure, there are typically gifts and favors bestowed upon her, but when all is said and done, she does it for free. And that was my mother.

Almost always, she had someone over. A regular lover perhaps, or someone who was just passing through that she took a fancy to. I learned quickly when to avoid the house and when it would be safe to play with my dolls in the living room. I learned much younger than most people about how babies came into the world, and how to prevent it from happening most of the time. (I, obviously, am an exception and proof it doesn't alway work.)
Don't get me wrong. My mother loved me. She always said I was a special child, and that if things ever got really bad, I could always go to my father. He would help because, "He's good that way, Tiff."
"But who is he?" I'd demand.

"You don't need to know that yet, Tiff."

"Why not?" I never pointed out that everyone else had a real father, except me. It mattered to me, even if it didn't matter to her.

"Because if you can get along in your life without a man, you're better off. Always. Trust me on this."

We had that conversation a lot. I never won it. I found out little hints along the way. My father was a lord, one of three in the area. He and my mother met during the war, and she helped him with some of his war injuries. When I was still a baby, she also devised a way to have us linked, since it's always best when the children are little. However, because he was married, nothing happened between them beyond a short fling.

Growing up, I had little else to hold onto besides this imaginary father. Most people in town ignored me. I was the illegitimate child--a bastard as I was often reminded--and not worth too many people's notice. Whenever I had to stay out of my mom's way, I would dream up stories of what it would be like to be a lady. Sure, some girls did pretend to be princesses, but I knew that this was actually a possibility. If something happened to my mother, I could take my place as a lord's daughter.

My mother also had these strange feelings and would react strongly. Most of the time, they wasn't much to them. However, when I was sixteen, she got the idea of putting everything in order, like she would die. I rolled my eyes. She gave me a letter then and told me, if anything happened to her, give it to Mr. Flanders for safe keeping. If I ever needed help from my father, I was to ask Mr. Flanders to contact him through that letter.

Mr. Flanders, I should probably explain, is my mother's probably longest standing lover. Sometimes he'd come a whole bunch, and then sometimes we wouldn't see him for a couple months. He sells cloth, but the expensive kind that comes from far away places. I've known him my whole life; I like him the best of everyone my mother knows. He treated me well. He's never married, and he never wanted to marry, but I think he liked having her available if he asked.

However, enough with that. My mother's premonition, this time, turned out to be right. We were attacked by the Waenx within a week. I could do nothing but run and hide. When I came back, my mom was dead and I was alone.

I did what she wanted me to. Oh, sure, I wanted to find out who my father was. But my mom had been very clear about how I need to make my own way in the world. So I worked as a maid in a merchant's house for some time, and then I moved onto Lord Wayne's, mainly because he paid more. But the idea of my father stayed in the back of my mind. I always wondered who he might be, and what might happen if I did need to ask Mr. Flanders to send that letter to my father, to discover who I really am.
 
 
 
Alyssa: Stock - Avenues of Timemidenianscholar on June 19th, 2013 04:17 am (UTC)
Interestinnnnnng.
secretguardian: HOpe black and whitesecretguardian on June 19th, 2013 04:37 am (UTC)
Oh, and before I forget, I'm imagining Mr. Flanders really is her father, and that he knows the truth.
Alyssa: Stock - Avenues of Timemidenianscholar on June 20th, 2013 04:14 am (UTC)
That's what I figured.