Departures

Originally posted September 28, 2005

I watched her go from the front porch, trailing my brother as he strode with purpose from the House; from our House – his house. It wasn’t long ago, I was the traveling recluse. Looking for purpose in life; finding brief satisfactions in the bottom of bottles and between the thighs of countless women. Not so long ago that I thumbed my nose at society, at ‘civilization’. I still love to travel. I still love adventure. I no longer set foot on uncharted paths, however, to escape. My brother still does. He is no longer the jovial sort of fellow that takes life’s trials with a shrug and a smile. Things affect him deeply. I think, in that way, he and Sana are much alike; as alike as a slave can be to a man, of course. They are good for one another.

“Joy is…” he started.

“Asleep,” I finished.

We did not speak further. He did not look back as he traveled past the small cafes that line the street near our House; his House. Sana did. She glanced over her shoulder several times. She did not see me on the landing before the front door, nor near the street as they rounded the corner where the Great Theater of Pentilicus Tallux stands. His legs are long. He is a tall fellow, lanky some say. A girl must struggle to keep up with him; most girls, at any rate. Not the auburn asleep on my couch, nude and scented with fragrant oils. She is taller than most. She is not his, however. She is mine.

I wonder, at times, if she does not wish to be his again.

She was not overtly jealous when I took both Emily and Sana into the House. There were others then; Plythias and Salen, Xajow and his Free Companion. Tyr and Sevan. Oman, too, still lurked nearby. Sana was Kettle & Mat. Emily was lovely décor, a phenomenal dancer that was mine for nearly nothing; House Girls. One by one, the free persons in the house left or simply faded away. Extended vacations. Secretive duties. The House Chain, by default, became my chain. Who would not want Eager Sana and Beautiful Emily on his Chain? I did.
Three; one wore a collar bearing my name and two were no less beneath my thumb than the first. Still, she was content – happy even. Then suddenly there were several more – another chain. How many were on it when I first snatched it from the grip of Jenny’s fingers even as I snatched her from her own perverted definition of ‘freedom’? Four? Five? Six? I do not recall. Without Emily or Sana there is still Nirah, Evona, Portia and Kawena on that Chain; the infamous Whore Chain. Is she less content now? Less happy? I don’t know. It has been on my mind the last few hands since the sul-peeler was picked up by my wander-prone brother. Given a choice and dismissing issues of pride, he would much rather have taken the auburn, my ‘Sandal’. There is the crux of the matter, however. Gorean males rarely dismiss issues of pride. It is within our nature to hold such matters to a high degree of relevance. The most impoverished of peasants in his small hut is no less prideful than the most exalted of Ubars. Marlenus himself, Ubar of Ubars, could claim only a pride equal to that of a peasant, no greater. Woodsman, Artisan, Traveler - however mybrother chooses to identify himself, carries that same degree of pride. He is a good fellow. Sana cannot help but learn from him.