forgotten ophelia

The city of Ar. Not unlike most any other city as I have before stated .. however one that has grown on me and one I have come to call my home. If ever I am to have such a thing. Her great cylinders and spires rise like battlements to the sky. Decorated with flags and tarn wire until color and glitter capture the eye away from the dirtier darker streets below.

Sometimes clouds would snag upon the higher ramparts and moisture would drift only against these pinnacles of stone. The drops would glisten and shine in the sun .. here known as Lar Torvis or the Central Fire. It was such sights that would nearly make one forget the hunger and loneliness .. the murder and chaos, in the bowls of the city. Here the forest is of stone and the beasts look like men.

A part of both .. I like to think of myself. The upper worlds and the one beneath. The monster upon the battlements. The gargoyle. The watcher. To protect and at the same time to kill. For how can one protect if one does not also kill? Is protection a passive word? I don't think so.

Great Ar. A mecca of commerce and trade. You can find anything for sale here. Lives being one of the cheapest commodities. Her great walls stand protection, her armies known across the face of Gor. Though much treason also rests within. A black spot on the otherwise glittery facade. How ... classic.

If I could remember things better a great force I would be here. But like the great hyena I am crippled and my place destined to be with the scavengers.

These were my thoughts when I made my way to one of the smaller squares .. nearly deserted for better housing elsewhere. Meaner streets one would be hard pressed to find. I think one of the higher caste has been buying up the property in some attempt for future development. Leaving the hungry to eat each other so there is less to move when they are ready to take possession. I came to rest on a fountain .. much different than the one I sat near with my red angel. This one was cracked and leaked .. over grown with ivy and weeds .. but water still ran sluggishly through the motions though when it landed in the well it did so with a much heavier sick coagulated sound.

She was staring up at me from the bottom. Her large dead pale eyes long since had lost the ability to see though fresh enough that she was resting comfortably below the surface with no internal decay to lift her. I brushed away the green moss so I could see her face more fully. She was beautiful in an old world way. Plump and pretty about the cheeks and lips. There was a blue gash over her left eye and it looked deep enough to have caused her death though it was hard to tell with the water softened flesh.

No porcelain doll this. She had met her end through some base violence. Probably needlessly and without appreciation. I shook the water from my ringed fingers but I could not tear away my gaze from her. She held the epitome of this city in her features. So much wasted life and death. How many murderers were there gathered together feeding off each other? Thousands? Millions? Drawn to large gatherings of people like beetles to a kill?

Slowly the moss began to close back over her willed by the current of the sluggish fountain. I kissed the tips of my fingers to her before I rose and left the fountain and the deserted square. For some reason I went up. Away. I needed air and I needed to think and I needed to remember to forget. How odd .. me attempting to forget. That wasn't like me at all.