~Claÿre~

It was the same day as always. The same procedure as the last eight months. Waking up before dawn, fetching her mother and herself breakfast, checking the books and available girls and then going to the market for fresh vegetables and ordering their daily needs like fish, meat, drinks or other small snacks.

She would get her first client in a few weeks. She fears it. A lot. And is excited about it. A bit. She had her experiences with both genders, but it was all so fresh and sometimes she dreamed about it. Like in nightmares.

~Life & Death~

He sighed, caressed the smooth facets with his bony fingers. The obsidian glimmered in the faint lights from far above, the facets showing thousands of lifes, layer over layer. Moments, sometimes weeks or even years before their demise.

"Which one shall it be?" asked Life at his side, her petals were in spring like the world itself was it too. She intertwined their fingers and Death somehow felt her warmth, her love and for whatever reason could smell her. Like a fresh apple, just bitten by the frost of the night.

"I do not know right now." he grumbled. "Too many good options. Too many bad options. I can't oversee every facet of their life. The stone... you know..."

"...doesn't show their lifes, just the last moments or years." she repeated the same sentence like the last times. "But if it is years..."

"You know I can't know what they were doing years before that."

"Which is a curious thing because both of us are supposed to know that."

"Yes." A thing which frightened both. "How am I to choose... how am I to choose who is worthy? Who is kind, compassionate, patient enough to do what is in need of doing?"

"I can only give the same answer I give you as always." She stood up, kissed him on the forehead of his skull and pressed his head against her warm chest. "You know it when the time is right. You did it the last times and you'll do it this time as well."

He sighed again, kissed her breastbone - which was tapping his chin against the green wood of her chest - and nodded. "Is it always the same? With me and you?"

"Always. But it is always different as well. You and me."

~Claÿre~

It was sticky, it somehow itched, her body was hot and she was ashamed of herself while in dire need of an even hotter shower. The client grinned as he was getting dressed - she envied him of his robes, they were fine silk and cotton - and waved as he vanished out the door. Her mother came in as she was getting out of the bed.

"Wasn't that bad, hu?" she smiled, her linen robes showing more than hiding.

"Yuck." She made a face as if she had noticed a bad smell.

"Ah, you grow on it eventually."

"He was gross, Mum!" Claÿre grabbed the dress from the floor and clothed herself. "Are all clients like this?"

"No, love." Her mother laughed. "Some are even more gross. Others... are kind. I think you learned a valuable lesson because he was somewhere in between."

"Lesson?" she hissed at the person she was forced to call Mum. "What kind of lesson? That men are always the same? Women even worse when it comes to... to this?"

"Yes. People are full of shit. They have needs and they come to us if they can't fulfill them out in the wild. There is a reason nobody is warming their bed and we are fulfilling their need. Sometimes we listen. Sometimes we cry, sometimes we bleed. And sometimes all of it at once." Her eyes looked grey like cold iron out of her face, her mouth a thin line. "Go, get a shower and a refreshment, your next client awaits you in an hour."

~Death~

Another failed attempt. Death couldn't blame any of them. Losing your life, your family, your loved ones, even your pet, could be a mind-shattering experience. So he guided the four spirits into their afterlife, luckily he didn't need to separate them.

After that he visited the Spiritfarer. They were busy attending spirits of all kinds so his visit was quite short. There are things he need to do, but the gods needed him for a brief moment. He visited the Caretaker and made sure that everything was in order.

A meeting with Life on the matter of saving a child or not was held and they decided it was not her time. Not now. So she was getting better over the course of weeks. Both treated themselves to a bit of time together which meant they were spending their days in the workshop, telling stories, giggling like young teenagers and embracing the other one with hugs, cuddles and small kisses and soft words. Or no words at all, sometimes words weren't enough for what both Eternals felt for each other.

And the search would continue. There should always be time for a break.

~Claÿre~

Swearing and grumbling she made her way to the market and back. The rune on her neck was still burning from the punishment, her ears hot from the embarrassment. Being in the same room with Mum and a few clients to... work with? Never in her life was she humiliated like this!

Thinking about plans and solutions she crossed the busy streets. The University and the Tower was too far away and the possibility to find a skilled mage in the few hours of her free time was really narrow, to say it optimistically.

There was only one friend in the whole bordell of twenty girls plus Mum. And even her she wouldn't tell a thing about her plans. Hulwar was not friendly and the people in this country even so. Some were kind, but those easily got crushed, fell into despair, both or sacrificed for various reasons.

The rune would kill her. Slow with searing her flesh away or it would explode her head. Both were not a desirable option.

Poisoning Mum wasn't an option as well. She would kill all of the other girls including herself because the rune was connected to Mum in a way she didn't quite understand. But if Mum dies, everyone else dies.

For a moment she felt a shiver and had the feeling someone was watching her. She turned around, eyeing the busy street, but nearly every person, be it Human, Elf or one of the Dragonborn was minding their own business, hurdling about their daily lifes, their errants or having chats with companions or storekeepers. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as she could see and nobody batted more than a few seconds to look at her or in her general direction.

Must have been the wind, her imagination or nothing. Get on with it, girl, those parsnips aren't going to carry themselves!

~Death~

Death shuddered. His bones were rattling quietly as the Silver Elves held one of their rituals and sacrificed a goat and a few drops of their own blood to worship him. It gave him nothing; no power, no might, no more bonds than he already had. But their chanting had power and so it reached him. Faint, as a whisper, but strong enough to give him a shiver.

Life was dealing with the Druids which meant she was wandering in their midst and thinking about matters of Life. The Druids were an interesting species, to be honest.

The Stone hummed. Another life had appeared in one of the facets. Which was more often the case after this war. The Wandering Healers, hospitals and Alchemists were overworked with the aftermath, but it was getting better. Meaning that more people died than lived. Be it because of infections, weakness or the help came to late.

Death took a look at the face in the newly filled facet. It was young, a girl, more than a woman now. She looked around the moment he laid his eyes on her. She felt his presence somehow. Or was it a coincidence? Did she hear something? Could be. The Obsidian didn't transfer sound. Luckily, otherwise it would be a cacophony, even in this large hall.

"Hm." made the huge skeleton, waved his bony hand and a scroll appeared in front of him. It gave him some details on her or any other person showed by the Obsidian. Death knew all of those people, but the scrolls gave him a more clear structure. Sometimes with all those names and characteristics he got a bit mixed up from time to time. It was getting worse the closer he got to the end of his cycle.

"Claÿre." he grumbled, lost in thoughts. He tapped on the Obsidian and she looked around. Like she had sensed it. How could that even be? His accumulated knowledge, the wisdom of ages, and experiences said nothing about a mortal who could sense the gaze of an Eternal.

Interesting.

GONG!

"Not you again." Death smiled - it felt like it anyways - and send the soul back to the mortal realm, the same way it has crashed against the Obsidian stone, like the last centuries.

Alright, back to Claÿre. Maybe she was worth a second look when she could sense his gaze. Death stared into the facet, tapped on it and she swung around, as someone had screeched or spoke her name.

Unusual for mortals.

"Hu..."

~Claÿre~

The potion was strong and bitter. She made a mistake and so she had to pay to price for it. Medicine needs to be working, not to taste good.

"Bah!" Claÿre spit out, a lump of sluggish green vanished into the garden. She was careless, now that life has to pay the price for it. Either nothing would happen or it would hurt, not even Mum was sure about it. It differed from woman to woman.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, tried not to throw up, because the potion was horrible and made her body twitch. Luckily she had no other client until the evening so she drank some water, curled up in her bed and tried to sleep. She wished for the cat to come back, be the feline companion was already gone for a few days and she thought, maybe the cat has found a new, good home.

In the morning she cleaned herself and cared for the bruises on her arms, breasts and between her thighs. The client was a woman, a gorgeous one, but she was sadistic. Claÿres throat was still sore from screaming and begging her to stop. It was part of the game and she never muttered the safeword, but it was a close one. She never begged for pain, she always wanted to be touched gentle, to be caressed, to be cared for.

"Claÿre?" shouted someone and suddenly Mum stood in her small chamber. "Urgh, girl, you should pray to Luseus that those nasty bruises have vanished soon."

"Well, Mum", she hissed, "I wouldn't need to pray to him if you wouldn't allow our clients to torture us."

"The client makes the rules and what the clients wants, the client gets. The payment is also very good for the bit of paint you have to endure."

"Your payment." Claÿre rose from her kneeling position and presented the brothels boss her entire body. "Apart from a bit of food and a ceiling we never see anything from the Sovents you get. Not even decent clothes we can call our own!"

"I know." Mum smiled her crooked smile. "You and the others are my hard working bees and I am the queen. I protect you and the entire hive."

That was not how a beehive worked, but before Claÿre could say anything, Mum made a fast step, reached out, grabbed her left nipple and twisted it. Claÿre screamed out of surprise and sudden pain, stumbled to the ground, the rune in her neck burning like fire just like the sensitive organ.

"Make yourself pretty.", said Mum with the same smile as before. "I'm going to present you to a few clients and then you need to go with Olera to the market. We need some more parsnips and turnips."

"Yes, Mum." Claÿre hissed, protecting her breasts with her arms. The older woman nodded satisfied and left, well knowing that the young woman on the ground was hers and hers alone.

~Death~

He grabbed his scythe, took a last look and nodded before leaving his palace. He had decided and now he had to carry out what was necessary.

~Claÿre~

"Can you take this?" asked Claÿre the other woman Olera, a brown-haired beauty with the face of a young girl, which was kind of her appeal. Clients loved that about her, while she had the body of a grown woman.

"Sure, love." Olera took the full basked from Claÿre, who already got a heavy basket full of parsnips and three bottles of heavy red wine. Nothing fancy, apparently the cook planned for some kind of stew. "Did you anger Mum again?"

"Tsk.", made Claÿre and clicked her tongue. "You could say that. I complained that there is no parallel between what we bring in and what we earn. Even when our clients torture us. She just laughed and pinched me."

"Is that why you are walking that way?"

"No, my last client was way into torture. I didn't say the safeword, because I knew it would make her angry and the next time would be more unpleasant." Claÿre sighed as they crossed a smaller street. "Minimising the damage, you know?"

"Pft." Olera chuckled. "Yes, I know. My customers think I'm a child, a baby, but use me like one of their women or whores at home. Horny people share one braincell deep down in their core."

Claÿre laughed, because Olera was right, horny people indeed share one and only one braincell with each other. She wanted to say something funny at Olera or something wise or just kiss her - which they did from time to time - but as they stepped onto the busy street, Claÿre saw something on the other side of the street. A figure with a huge scythe with a shimmering blade (silver maybe?), a somehow steaming robe and... only a skull?

"Claÿre!" shouted someone, probably Olera. To be fair, Claÿre was distracted by the figure on the other side of the street who was ignored by the other pedestrians, despite its form and displaced nature.

She didn't feel pain, she heard only the neighing of the horse, the noise of the wheels and was wondering why the earth was spinning so fast. She felt only the numb collision in her side, at her arm and back and suddenly she  could see the clear sky and the rooftops and Olera, the beautiful child-like face screaming and crying.

"Medic! Help, please, she is hurt, we need a healer!"

Who was hurt? Claÿre noticed a warm liquid on her lips, simultaneously she also noticed that she couldn't feel her legs anymore and that she had difficulties to breathe.

"Hello." Suddenly the figure with the scythe and the robe stood beside Olera, the blank skull shimmering in the morning sun. The eyes were not hollow, but glimmed in a faint blue. Claÿre suddenly knew who that was and, to her surprise, she wasn't afraid. Curious maybe, as if she has gathered knowledge she shouldn't have.

"Hey...?", she answered with a question, coughed a bit and saw that the liquid on her lips was indeed bright red blood. Olera looked a bit baffled, as she wasn't sure if Claÿre was talking to her.

"A cart has hit you.", said the figure, the lower jaw only moving slightly. "It crushed your spine, broke your legs and ripped apart a few organs. You're bleeding out, Claÿre."

"I thought I had more time..." said the mortally wounded woman with a feeling of relieve and despair.

"Everyone thinks that." The figure sounded amused. "Life is not fair. You should know that. Death is the great leveller. I come to the rich and the poor; to the walking and the crawling; to the holy and the unholy; to the Garladans and the Elves."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"To help you, you stupid bitch!", screamed Olera while gesturing to the people gathering around the women. Apparently she really doesn't notice the figure in black who Claÿre was talking to.

"I want to give you a choice." The figure drew closer without making a sound, but from her narrow point of view Claÿre could see boney toes moving under the black robe. "I can't heal you and your healers aren't fast enough."

"What is my..." She coughed and a huge amount of blood spluttered out of her mouth, something made squelching noises in the rough area of her abdomen. "My choice?"

"You die.", said the figure matter-of-factly. "Nothing can change that. You can now choose between living a different life or going forward, see your parents and siblings again and be happy for the rest of your existence."

The figure extended a boney hand. Claÿre didn't think long. Her parents abandoned her and she knew she had siblings, but thats about it. So she reached out and grabbed the surprisingly warm hand and then the figure pulled.

~~~~