Julien La Croix: Difference between revisions
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''I smile now just thinking of it.'' | ''I smile now just thinking of it.'' | ||
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Revision as of 19:34, 28 September 2009
Prologue:
My name is Julien LaCroix, I was born the son of a street whore, or so my father told me. I never did get a chance to find out, due to the fact that I left a dagger in his chest shortly after he told me this.
Its hard being alone and on the streets when you are 9. Luckily being the only son of a drunken sailor who was gone for weeks at a time helps more than you think. Surviving on very little or no money was my specialty. Having to fend for myself was something I learned at a very early age. One learns to defend what belongs to him when rats sneak into your crib to steal your food.
Dirty and unkempt I wandered the streets for years. Begging.. stealing.. it meant nothing to me, as long as I had food in my belly and a warm place to stay for the night. Then.. I met her.
Dianna D'Amini. The very name makes me smile. Her lips where full red rosebuds on a spring morning. Her bosoms like soft small pillows you could lay your head against. Her ankles.. well lets just say, dainty and petite. At first, I was struck by pure lust. Although she was many years older than my tender 14, she took me in.
Her life was a hard one, she was a whore, but not just any whore. She was the best in the Water District. She could charge more for one night than any 10 whores in a week could. She was the envy of every housewife, she had suitors, she had men who bought her fine clothes, just for the pleasure of company of tea.
Don't get me wrong.. I don't think she was innocent by any means. I learned that the second night I was there. But she took me in. She cleaned me up. She showed me the first kindness anyone ever had. She clothed me, she bathed me, she taught me the ways a man should treat a woman.
She also taught me a little something her father had handed down through the generations... the Bouche knives. The first time she laid those long slender knives in my trembling hands I was in love, and not just with her. The knives sung to me. The begged to be unleashed.
I learned that the knives where not a giving master, but demanded respect. They could quickly take my blood as my enemies. Long nights I stood in front of that training dummy. Thump. Thump. Thump. The blades flicking back and forth across the arteries. Thump. Thump. The edge looking for the hole in the defenses.
I smile now just thinking of it.