[The Norkari Mtns.] Chalet du Sommet Minuit

Lum had been half way through a delectable breakfast when Arya came in. She could sense the young woman's turmoil easily. Her powers were returning slowly and the first appeared to be her soul sight. Which was good she loved to see the happiness in others. It also let her know who needed her help. Resting her fork on the plate the dragoness gestures to a chair.

"Of course Arya,I always have time for you."

The moment Lum'valia offers her a seat so they can talk at the table, a sudden anxiety comes over Arya. Suddenly, she doesn't feel comfortable talking about these sorts of things, not here not now. Arya did cover up these feelings quite well however with a somewhat nervous looking smile, but no doubt Lum'valia would be able to detect her feelings through it, unfortunately.

"Hmm... On second thought, I actually didn't need anything! Yep, have a nice day Lum'valia, and Maelik, and Klur!" Arya would bow out of the dining room before moving to hurry down the hall.

Kate knocks her skull playfully. "Silly me. How could I forgot to ask your birthdays..." She hesitated. She knew very little of her entourage's background. Would it be awkward if Naoki had no idea when, where or how they were born?

Still, Madame was the one to bring it up. Kate rest assured she was planning on answering. "Well, dahling?" She accented, embracing the arm offered. "You strike me as a winter person, I would say. Am I in the ballpark?" Regardless of the answer, Kate would erase a particularly painful tricycle incident from her memory to make way for the digits that would determine whether or not she needed underwear that day. 

As they walked towards the greenroom, Kate hummed a Gauldin waltz, restraining herself not to break their walk cycle into a musical number.

“Well, as it turns out, I haven’t the slightest idea when, where, or how I was born.”

Naoki’s answer is stated without any ostentation or particular emotion. Though she had been expecting the question, that didn’t necessarily mean that the facts had changed. She remains silent for a few paces before elaborating, “I’m pretty strange. Most people, as I’ve been lead to understand, have their first memories as hazy sorts of half-remembered events of their early childhood, when they are perhaps three or four years of age. My first recollections, which I remember with an apparently unusual clarity, were a few months older than ten years ago today. Which is strange, because if you were to look at me, or evaluate my actions, and attempt to guess at my age, I certainly don’t seem to be ten.”

A suggestive waggle of her fingers emphasizes the anachronistic nature of her behavior.

“Furthermore, my first memories are not hazy or half-remembered, they are very clear. I can tell you exactly what I did and what I saw, for every second of every day for the first week or so that I recall. And at the time, my body was comparable with the developmental stage one might usually call a teenager. In comparing the youngest form of myself I can remember to others, I would estimate that I was perhaps fourteen or fifteen, assuming that I age in a way that is… congruent with your standard human. I was smaller than I am today, and have grown since then, yet I have recollection of my life before that point. If I even was alive before that point, I don’t know. Additionally, to further clarify, I have never, to my memory, had what what could be called a traditional family. None have approached me and made a claim to be my relation nor have I come across any who are… _{like myself}.”

She trails off, and taps Kate on the behind with her tail, to indicate exactly what she means by her last statement.

As it just so happens, a short way down the hall, a wide bench is clearly visible. However, Naoki makes no indication of moving further toward it. She simply stands, stock still in the hallway, facing ahead. Her throat bobs slightly as she swallows, before she turns to consider Kate with eyes that burn with that very same devotion.

“Hold on a moment… This… This is one of the reasons I love you, right here. I’m not quite sure how the causation, correlation, or any of that really work… I suppose love doesn’t quite work logically like that, but… I trust you completely. I’ve just recognized this. You’re the first person I’ve told this, and I didn’t even think about that as I was telling you. This information, which I have not related to a single soul before now, I told you without so much as a moment’s hesitation. I mean, Artemis knows, but that’s because she was there for it all, she doesn’t count in this context. I realize, there are exactly two individuals whom I trust absolutely, and they’re both in this hallway. This is how at ease I feel with you. I don’t have to filter my thoughts or control my expression, or anything! I… I… I cannot verbally articulate how this makes me feel. Let me…”

In a sudden rush of movement, Naoki surges forward to envelop Kate in a tight hug, wordlessly holding her close for a few moments before reluctantly separating. Still holding Kate by the shoulders, Naoki speaks again, “There is nothing that I would like more than to share with you the rest of my life story, other than perhaps hearing you do the same. Let’s sit, though.”

Naoki proceeds to lead them to the obvious bench up ahead, and seats herself on the left side. If Kate would allow it, Naoki would attempt to wrap her arm around the other woman’s shoulders, still yearning for some of that closeness.

On the wall opposite, a tasteful bit of art hangs. It has little to no impact on Naoki or her feelings, yet there it hangs, sitting prominently in the field of view of any who would look directly across the hall while on the bench.


“Before I start, let me say this. The only reason I haven’t told you any of this sooner was because the thought never crossed my mind. I have only ever once told anyone what I just old you, and that was only in the last few minutes. I’m not at all in the habit of divulging my past- at all, nor do I ever intend to be. Just now, I did it without thinking. Because I don’t need to think when I’m with you. It’s so… I just…” Again, Naoki struggles for words, attempting to identify and articulate her thoughts. Eventually, after establishing eye contact, she settles on, “I’ve never felt closer to you than in this moment.”

Like a flicker, Kate felt a warmth welling within her. Synchronously, as Naoki forcefully embraced her, Kate's smile flickered as well. It was like after all this time, after all her hard work, she had finally become to Naoki, what Naoki had always been to her. She would have cried tears of joy, but this wasn't the time for her to cry.

Kate takes the seat. The painting on the other side was nostalgic, just like the brooks she played by when she was little. When Naoki presses against her, she doesn't object. Instead, she feels slightly concerned. Naoki usually isn't this upfront with her. Of course, Kate was happy that she was being showered with this kind of attention. But the way Naoki was setting up her story got her worried she wasn't going to be able to handle what she was about to hear.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. You know, that's how I've felt about you since I first met you. I though you were truly amazing. And I'm not talking about the ears, or the tail... Or the nose. I'm glad I could be someone you trust, since I've always trusted you. I still do. With all my heart."

She locked fingers with Naoki, while slowly petting her back. "Let's just focus on you now, okay? I'm ready to hear your story. Then, if you let me..." Kate paused for a moment.

"I'll tell you about me, as well. I'll tell you everything."

(This takes place the evening of the current Chalet day)

Dinner had been a pleasant, if subdued affair, but Artemis's mind had not been wholly on her excellent steak. Now, with the meal over and the last rays of the setting sun painting the western sky with burnt orange, it was time for the main course.

A small trunk burdens her arms as silent steps take her down the hallways to room 340. Opening the door, she steps in, and surveys her canvas.


It wasn't perfect, but then again, what room was? A small amount of seduction potential must be sacrificed on the altar of coziness, she supposes. Setting the trunk to the side of the room, she gets to work. The curtains are drawn almost shut, creating an atmosphere of privacy, while being open enough to alleviate any panicky feelings of being trapped. The furs covering the bed are folded, removed to a far corner of the room, and replaced with a more conventional blanket. Fur wasn't the best surface to get hot and sweaty on. Candles are snuffed and ignited experimentally for a few minutes, as she determines the best arrangement to have lit. When she finishes, the room is bathed in a soft, inviting light just dim enough to lend a hint of mystique and cast accentuating shadows. A bottle of wine and two glasses are placed on the windowsill, for post-carnal enjoyment, or for warming metaphorical cold feet with the flush of alcohol. Several toys are placed in the bedside table, in case they are needed. She doubts that will be the case, though. Virgins usually liked it vanilla.

The physical aspects of the room prepared, she reviews her own preparations. She is dressed in the same outfit she donned in the morning, but has freshened herself up, and put on her lucky panties. A faint hint of perfume clings close to her skin.


All set. Her preparations complete, she relaxes on the corner bench, taking a moment to appreciate how the boots accentuate the shape of her legs when she reclines with them crossed. She makes a mental note to wear this type of footwear more often. She opens the last item from her trunk - a novel - and begins to read. Arya Shieldheart should be here soon, but there was no sense in simply sitting here. Besides, the book had its own advantages; it gave the appearance of a deeper side, made it look like she wasn't waiting impatiently, and introduced the potential for an easy icebreaker should Arya be too nervous.

“You are not responsible for any of that nightmare, never think you are. No part of it was pleasant, and you’re not going to hear me say otherwise. However, in a strange sort of roundabout way, I am thankful for it. It was horrible, yes, and I would never wish it on any sentient being, but it gave me an unparalleled motivation, a motivation that eventually led to my current situation: surrounded by unimaginable wealth, both material and human. My past did propel me, is propelling me, and you are a part of the dream that has kept me pressing forward through many hard times.”

“But I digress. I’ll spare you the fine details of brothel life from here on out. Suffice it to say, I learned to recognize it for what it was soon enough. A miserable and pitiful state of existence, where I was little more than another cute set of holes. At some point, someone said, “You can sell a sword or a loaf of bread once, but you can sell a girl a million times.” That’s when the resentment started to breed. I saw so many others whose state of living was so vastly superior to my own. I was as far down on the totem pole as one can get. I wasn’t even a prostitute; I wasn’t paid, or compensated for my efforts in any way. I was simply kept alive and functional. There were no opportunities to earn my freedom, or even higher status as a slave. It wasn’t any sort of meritocracy, no matter how well I did, how much I improved, or how much I was able to accomplish, all I ever earned were extra rations, more blankets, and less beatings.”

“Perhaps some of it was envy. I sat on these men, with their round stomachs and clean faces. I removed their fine silken pants, and lit their cigars. I wanted to live as they did: easily and luxuriously. But I could not. The opportunity simply wasn’t available to me. If everyone at the brothel had their way, I would continue to hump wealthy men until I couldn’t any more, or became undesirable, at which point I would be cast out into the street, likely to be killed or starve to death. I had seen it happen on numerous occasions. The girls, all very concerned with their appearance. When a couple wrinkles or a nasty scar means almost certain death, you tend to get very concerned about those sorts of things. Getting old, getting saggy, loosening up, these were all concerns in the forefronts of our minds. “

“... I may have lost track of where I was headed with that. Oh, yes, resentment. I grew to hate life. I learned to hate my oppressors, the place where I was kept, the men I was forced to serve, the food I was given, all of it. This resentment grew and intensified with each day, and on multiple occasions, I considered taking my own life. I had seen that happen, too. Not every girl was able to cope with the brothel life. None enjoyed it, but after a while, some simply… broke. One morning… One morning I woke up, and my cellmate had hung herself in the night by her blanket. I’ll always remember the way she was slowly spinning… It seemed as if her dull, glazed eyes were staring at me. She was removed promptly by a guard, dragged by the hair like a sack of meat. I don’t know what they did with her, but I have no reason to suspect a respectful burial or cremation.”

“And sometimes I would think. I would think, “Gee. What an unequivocally awful life I’ve been dropped into. Sure do wish it would hurry up and be over, already.” A few knots tied in the dark of night, and it would all be over. I would no longer have to deal with any of it. There would be freedom in death. Maybe there was an afterlife out there somewhere that would take pity on me. Maybe reincarnation was a thing that happened, and I’d have a better experience the next time around.”

Naoki shrugs, some of the indifference filling her life at that point in time bleeding through into the present. .

“I obviously never went through with it, but I’ll not falsely say I’ve never considered the notion seriously. I like to think what motivated me not to was envy, and greed. Envy for those who led a better life than I did, and wanting to live that way myself. I wanted to live comfortably, eating the food I wanted, sleeping with who I chose and nobody else. Somewhere, in words and concepts I had never yet heard, I knew I wanted to spend my life with someone I genuinely loved.”

The hand on Kate’s shoulder squeezes again, and amber orbs flick past Kate to Artemis for a moment.

“Anyway, to that end, I came to understand that I needed to improve myself to reach such a position. I was aware enough to realize that I was unaware of many things, and I was intelligent enough to know that to improve my position, I first needed to improve myself. To bend the world to my will, I first had to understand it.”

“Opportunity came in the form of a portly man. At the time, I knew him only as Mr. P. His profession was that of a stationer. He created and sold books. One one occasion, Mr. P left one of his books behind. I was able to steal it, and spent that night reading it. It was a book about religion, and didn’t really give me any useful or applicable information, besides a bit of context for the things some of the men would shout. When next I was made to see Mr. P, I returned the book, and managed to… to bribe and coerce him into leaving me another book to read. This arrangement carried on for quite a while, and I was able to absorb quite a substantial sum of information from his books. I read of love and war, politics and religion, anything that he would give me. My understanding of the world deepened immensely through the lense of literature, and though I never quite looked forward to seeing Mr. P, what with his warts, I came to appreciate the service he was doing for me.”

“That’s where my passion for books comes from. Through books, I obtained my initial understanding of the world, and have ever since then, I have found them to be an excellent medium through which to grow intellectually. With this newfound information, I began to be able to formulate plans. Strategies. Escape plans. In coming to understand my situation more fully, I was able to identify ways in which the seemingly invincible and omnipotent guards were imperfect, just as human as anyone else, and prone to the same mistakes and vices as any human. I often considered attempting to escape. I was confident that I could get beyond the walls of The Casalesi, but I knew, from that point, I would be little better off than I was, and debatably worse. For as much as I had come to hate my situation and resent the ones who had put me in it and kept me there, they were the same individuals to whom I owed my continued existence to. If food were not provided to me, I would have no way to procure it. If I ran away, I would have nowhere to live, nowhere to be. If I were to leave, I would stop having that level of support, I would stop being someone’s responsibility to keep alive. I knew that I wasn’t capable of self-sufficiency at that point. Not at all, and not to mention the incredibly high chance of my being captured, either by someone who would return me to Casalesi, or one who would force themselves on me, without the need to pay first, maybe even kill me afterwards. No, it wasn’t a viable option yet. Not in my state at that point.”

Here, she pauses, and casts a glance at Artemis, as if asking permission. After a moment, she receives a nod, and continues.

“On one fateful day, I decided to test my knowledge in a rather dangerous way. By observing and finding patterns in the stations of the guards, and when their shifts change, I was able to identify the schedule they were operating on, and identify a number of imperfections- a number of holes in it. I decided to test one of these holes by sneaking into the forbidden back areas of The Casalesi. After all, I still had a bit of a reputation as the clueless cat, and even if they caught me, I would probably simply be sent back to my cell with some relatively minor punishment.”

“Anyway, as I was sneaking along down the hall, one door in particular caught my eye. Not that it was particularly interesting looking, or obviously of any importance, but it was somewhat wider than the others, with a strange set of smells coming from under it. I turned the knob and proceeded inside, unaware at that point of how dangerous such an action would have been, if there had been any defensive wards on the room.The room I stepped into was like something out of a bard’s horror story. Jars and strange implements lined the walls, and the air tingled with what I now know to have been magic, and there, in the center of the room, was a steel table, with a woman lying on it. Her chest cavity was cut open, the skin peeled back in huge, obscene flaps, putting her internal organs on full display. Strange gold-bound crystal needles stuck into her body at several places, and shackles pinned her limbs to the table. I was disgusted and dumbstruck. Why would someone cut open a dead body? As far as I was aware, dead bodies were nothing more, simply… dead. Was this what happened to the girls who couldn’t work anymore? Why was she still restrained, even in death? Curious, I made my way over to the cadaver, and looked at its face. Emerald eyes stared up at the ceiling glassily. Then they moved, turning to regard me with a crazed stare.”

“I was… terribly alarmed, to say the very least but I managed not to call out. After a few moments, I screwed up my courage and went back over to her. Her eyes followed me, slowly taking on a tint of sanity as they gazed. I almost threw up in horror. This girl was, somehow, after all that, alive! Seeing her then, it sort of put things in perspective for me. I thought that I was at the bottom of the totem pole. I thought that I had it as bad as anyone ever did- surely, there isn’t a lot in life lower than that of the slave. But yet, there she was, sitting on the table before me, with even less freedom, even more horrible circumstances. That was probably the first time I experienced pity.”

“I had no idea what to do. I wanted to help, but I knew that I couldn’t move her. Even though I didn’t have a very thorough understanding of physiology or medicine at that point, with those wounds and the internals of her body… open, as they were, if she got away from the influence of whatever was keeping her alive, I understood that she would die.. There was no choice but to leave her to whatever monsters were doing this to her, and hope she survived. With no other help I could offer, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, looked her in the eyes, and told her to be strong, that she would make it through this, and that I would be waiting for her when she did. With my window of escape closing, I then had to hurry from the room, and back to my cell, leaving her alone again.”

“I never got another chance to sneak back and see her. I’m unsure why, or if my little escapade was ever noticed, but the guards changed their routine, closing the weakness I had used before. For weeks, all I could do was wonder what happened to her. If she had died, or been dissected or… It pained me to consider, but I couldn’t help it. Then, one day, the cell door opened, and the guards roughly tossed in a young woman to take the place of the one who had hung herself the week before, the tiny trickle of blood on her ear under her ‘48’ tag testifying to how recently she had arrived.The door closed, and she turned to look at me.”

“As it turned out, the woman from the table had survived, and was sitting next to me on the floor. After some initial awkward introductions, we began to talk, and she revealed that she had knowledge, but no memories. She could describe the Norkari Mountains, for instance, but she couldn’t form a mental picture of them. She didn’t remember how she got here; she didn’t remember her name. I suppose we were similar, in that regard. However, we didn’t get any further than that before the shift started. The cell opened again, and we were escorted into the main room. On the way, I tried to tell her some things about how the brothel worked, to prepare her for the new torment she was now a part of. That was before she went down on her John like a seasoned professional, finishing him off just before I finished mine. Some small part of me was impressed, but that showing stopped me from trying to tell her any more about how things worked around there. She already knew.”

“When we were taken back to our cells after ‘working’, we resumed our conversation over our rations. The topic of names came up again, and she asked me what mine was. When I told her I didn’t have one, only my number and some of the nicknames the men had given me, she insisted that wouldn’t do, and that I must pick a name. I threw my mind back to one of the stories Mr. P had given me, thinking one of the character names would work. That act triggered something, I’m not sure what, and the name Naoki sprung to mind. I’m unsure as to why, the closest character name in the book was ‘Nami’. When I told her the name, she said that it didn’t sound important enough, that I needed a title. 'Madame Naoki', she proclaimed. I laughed, and said that would work well enough. Then she asked me to choose a name for her. It somehow didn’t seem appropriate to name her after a fictional character - even though I was about to do that for myself - so I recalled Mr. P’s religious text. In that text, the story of one of the angels had struck me. Swift and strong, striking down her foes with unerring precision in the name of her goddess. I told her the name, but asked if she wouldn’t like a last name too.”

“If one name is good enough for you, one name is good enough for me, she replied simply.”

“I responded equally simply: Well. then let me introduce myself. My name is Madame Naoki. Good to meet you, Artemis.”