A Polished Bronze Rat Is Shorn

I didn't want to be in Corinth.

I mean, I REALLY didn't want to be in Corinth.

But it wasn't as if I'd had a choice. Which was starting to be kind of a regular thing for me lately, and I was getting extremely sick of it. I'd been spending a quiet afternoon, just kicking back, sitting in the shade eating some fruit (Ok, it was someone's orchard, and I doubt he would have appreciated my "pruning") when Strife showed up.

Smirking, of course, in that irritating self-satisfied way. "Ares wants me to deliver a message to someone in Corinth. When I'm done I want you to show me around and stuff."

Already I was not liking this idea. "Since when do you need someone to show you around?"

He'd wrinkled his nose at me in a way that I might have found cute if I wasn't already starting to get ticked off. "Yeah, but it's, like, your hometown. I never had someone show me around their hometown before, and I thought the idea sounded kinda cool."

And, of course, he'd ignored my arguments, as usual. So here I was, in some anonymous dockside tavern, doing my best to drink enough of their rotten ale that I'd stop noticing how nasty it tasted. I thought about getting a room, and when Strife showed up, dragging him up to it and keeping him busy enough to forget his idea of having me show him around Corinth. But instead I just kept downing mug after mug of that cat piss the tavern’s owner was passing off as ale, and getting more and more irritated. Late afternoon faded into evening faded into night, and I got more and more edgy. When I felt the tap on my shoulder, I almost jumped out of my skin. I whirled around on my stool.

"Well it's about---" and stopped. It wasn't Strife.

"Jasne? I thought that was you!" It was Dieclos. Someone I'd known, a long time ago.

"Um. Hi. Yeah, it's me." I managed a weak smile, but my stomach lurched. All that nasty ale seemed to be catching up with me.

"So when did you get back in town? This is awesome! I haven't seen you in so long! Are you back for good?" He'd apparently had a drink or two himself, and it had put him in a good mood.

"Nnnn. No. I'm just..." Dammit, where WAS Strife already? "I'm not, like, BACK back. Just kind of passing through, you know?"

"Well I'll just have to try and change your mind." He smiled. I remembered his smile. "You look great, you know. I'm so glad to see you're growing your hair back, I never thought the short suited you."

Well, that was it. I was on my feet and running before my mind knew what was going on. I wasn't really thinking about where I was going. I felt weird, sweaty, cold and kind of tingly. There was a buzzing in my ears and my vision seemed to have narrowed to a point.

Where I ended up was at the end of a deserted pier in the Old Quarter, the part of the harbor that had fallen to disuse. My stomach gave another warning turn and I dropped to my knees in time to retch over the side of the pier.

"So who was the guy?" Strife. Finally.

"Oh, hi!" I spat, trying to clear my mouth. "I'm so--"

"Don't 'oh hi' me," he snarled. "Who was that guy you didn't want me to see you with?"

Aw, fuck. This couldn't be happening. "No, it's not like that." I tried to stand up, but my head was spinning too much. I managed a half-sit, half-sprawl.

"So what is it like?" He leaned against the railing.

"Dieclos is this guy I used to hang with when I was younger. My brother's friend, really. He was..." I looked away. "He was my first."

"Whaddaya mean, 'first'?"

"Strife, when a woman says 'first' like that, there's really only one thing she means."

Strife dropped to one knee and grabbed me by the shoulders, hard. "I think you have some explaining to do." He looked angry.

"Dammit, I told you, it's not LIKE that!" I pulled loose and grabbed the railing, pulling myself to my feet. "I grew up here, you know that much. My mom... well, she really couldn't be bothered. It was my Great-aunt Jilat who raised us."

"Us?" He still sounded kind of pissed, but he hadn't tried grabbing me again.

"Yeah. My older brother Jocen, me, and my sister Jiri. Jiri and me, we were close. We used to do each other's hair, we both had real long hair. Jilat always said she could tell when we were mad at each other, because our braids would be done up real tight. When we-- when I was nine, Jiri got run over by a wagon. It took her three days to finish dying. She... I kind of lost it for a while. But Jocen, he was there for me. Most guys wouldn't want their kid sister tagging along all the time, but he took me everywhere." I couldn't help smiling a little.

"We used to get in so much trouble... at least, until we got better at not getting caught. Dieclos was Jocen's best friend. The three of us did everything together."

I slumped over the railing, resting my face against the old, worn wood. "Then when I was thirteen, Jocen fell off a roof. He'd been trying to get away from the city guard. He broke his neck. He was fifteen years old."

I spat over the edge again, trying to get the sour taste out of my mouth.

"Dieclos and I were both pretty upset. We swiped a few wineskins, came out here to get drunk. It wasn't very good wine, but it was a lot stronger than we were used to. We were, like, lying down, looking at the stars. Talking about Jocen. After a while he stopped talking. He rolled over and just started kissing me. I just kind of lay there. I was really drunk, y'know?" The bile taste was still strong, and I wanted to spit again, but my mouth had gone dry.

"Anyway, after a while he just...did it to me. By the time I realized what was going on it was pretty much over. After, he just kind of looked at me, and stroked my hair a little. 'You've got real pretty hair, ' he said. 'I've always loved your hair.' Then he fell asleep, or passed out or something." I looked at the water. I could see the moon, reflected in the waves.

"So, he was out cold or whatever, and I took out my knife. And I kind of sat there for a while, just looking at him. And then I cut my hair off. It was the first time I'd ever cut my hair, but I just hacked it off, still in its braid, and I just left it there, and I took off. A few months later I left Corinth, and I never came back." I turned around then and glared at Strife. "Until now."

Shit. I'd done it again. Forgotten I was talking to a god. Was this the time I was gonna get myself killed? Strife was being real quiet, which couldn't be a good sign. He was never this quiet. When I saw the knife in his hand I knew I was in really deep shit. He put a hand on my shoulder pressed, not too hard, but I got the picture, and knelt down. He pulled off my skirt and tunic. I was a little surprised he didn't cut them off, or just magic them away.

"Lie down. Don't move." He sounded serious. More trouble, `cuz that REALLY wasn't like him. He spun the knife around in his fingers with one of those ridiculous little flourishy gestures that poser types think make them look tough. Which WAS like him. I shivered a little when he started running the knife up the length of my leg. He didn't cut me, but the blade was really sharp. I could feel all the tiny hairs being cut away.

Um. Strife forced me down and stripped me in order to SHAVE MY LEGS?

Only, he wasn't stopping with my legs. This was really starting to freak me out, but I kept very still... that little knife was too sharp to fuck around with! I clenched my teeth as he scraped the blade across my pubes. He handled the knife carefully; all I really felt was the hair coming loose. He brushed it away gently with his free hand. I had to catch my breath at that... scary as this was, it was also kind of a turn-on.

But what it mainly was, was damned weird. He even ran the knife along my arms. Then he laid a hand across my throat.

"Okay, you, like, REALLY wanna keep still now. And close your eyes."

I felt him trace the knife over my eyes. The little freak was cutting off my EYELASHES! And my eyebrows. He gently blew the hairs off my face.

"You can open your eyes now. And sit up."

Opening my eyes was easy. Sitting up took a little work, but eventually I managed it. Strife cupped my chin with one hand, and raised the knife again. I shivered, but he only ran it across my scalp. It didn't take very long. I felt my too-long hair fall in loose strands down my shoulders and back, and the cool breeze on my bare head.

"Jasne. Look at me."

I tried to turn my head away, but he forced my chin back, making me face him. He looked so solemn, I could hardly believe it. He pulled his hand back, and drew the knife across his palm, leaving a narrow line of blood. Huh. I didn't know gods could bleed. He placed his bleeding hand on my cheek. The whole thing was odd, almost ritualistic.

"Jasne, I.... I don't give a damn about your hair." His voice sounded so soft, almost lost.

Oh. Oh SHIT. This was starting to sound suspiciously heavy, and I had no idea how to deal with it.

So I didn't. I turned my face to lick and nuzzle at his cut palm. The coppery-seawater taste of his blood chased the last sting of bile out of my mouth. He gave a little, whimpering whine, dropped the knife (I heard it fall) and pulled me closer to him..

"Um... Jasne, I..." he giggled nervously. He was thinking too much. Well, THAT I know how to fix. It’d also keep me from thinking too much.

I tugged at the collar of that patchwork leather thing he always wore. "Off." I'd have just taken it off him myself, but I had no idea how to unfasten the damn thing.

Luckily I didn't have to. Good point about messin' around with gods... their ability to make clothes go bye-bye when they're inconvenient without having to fumble with `em. I pulled my mouth off of his hand and started nuzzling at his neck. He wrapped his hand around the back of my head. It was weird as all fuck feeling his touch on my naked scalp, but kind of sexy, too. Strife ran a finger up the length of my spine and a liitle prickle went through me. If I'd had any hairs left, they would have been standing on end.

"Kiss me."

"Uhhh... don't think you want me to do that, I was just puking into the harbor, remember?"

"Don't care. Kiss me."

Well, okay. If he didn't mind me tasting like blood, puke, and nasty-ass cheap ale, I wasn't gonna argue.

I was glad I hadn't. I already knew Strife was a pretty good kisser, but he really outdid himself this time. His tongue probed my mouth nimbly, but with all the urgency I'd come to expect from him, like he wasn't sure he would get his fill. He was gripping my arms too hard, pinning me against the worn planks beneath us like he thought I might try to get away. His cock rubbed against my newly-bared mound, and I whimpered into his mouth a little… the sensation was too much, I could feel the heat coming off of him and the throb of his pulse. I pressed my hips against him, trying to get him to hurry up and just FUCK me already. He raised his ass, pulling away from me, and I groaned aloud, and craned my butt into the air, trying to capture his cock. He nuzzled my neck for a moment, then bit down almost viciously, finally plunging his cock into me at the same moment. I practically shrieked. He raised his head, and stared into my face, just STARED at me, thrusting into me with a frantic kind of energy. It was unnerving, but not so unnerving as to keep me from slamming my hips up to meet him, fucking him as hard as he was fucking me, and it didn’t take long, not for either of us, and I was grunting with the effort and he just kept up that weird level gaze, and I just closed my eyes and I was coming, coming hard, and now I did shriek, and while I was gasping for air I felt him shudder above me, and the sticky warmth as he shot into me.

When I opened my eyes he was still looking at me, but he was sitting up and fully dressed.

“It’s okay, you know.” He said that real quiet, in a calm voice that didn’t sound like him at all.

“What’s okay?”

“It’s okay that you don’t love me.”

And then he fucking disappeared on me, did that god-vanish thing while I was sitting there with my mouth hanging open trying to make sense out of what he just said.

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