I’ll say it.
ICly Sage isn’t happy. *sigh*
A friend of mine in-world offered to round up several known Poet personalities in SL Gor to play a panel of Poet Caste elders to sit in judgement of the li’l ragamuffin girl who wants to be a poetess. Sage is presented to them by Panner and then she’s allowed to perform her work for the panel. And this sounds like a great RP scene. And I need this scene with the poets. I want to RP my caste change, not just change name tags one day OOC and expect folks to go along.
Problematically, as if I already don’t have a lot of time free, every time I log on I’m hounded by my FC. He’s like this puppy that constantly wants to be petted. It’s infuriating. He entertains himself enough when I’m not online — as I hear it he keeps the kajira quite busy — why can’t he entertain himself when I’m there too? The reason. He’s a jealous!
No really! He makes smartass comments in IM to me all the time about my male SL friends in Gor. I bitch at him for it. But he does it anyway.
If he’s online he’s right there by my side annoying the shit out of all my friends with his ignorance and abbrasive emotes. Insulting my city, it’s warriors and Gor in general.
WHY THE HELL DOES HE RP GOR IF HE HATES GOR?
Oh wait, probably because of all the free BJs he gets from the kajira.
I’m so tired of this. Tired of arguing with him. Trying to make up. Trying to move on. This takes more emotional energy than I’ve got AND IT’S NOT ADVANCING MY STORYLINE.
OK, yay. He got me out of the dregs. And I gave him a lot of leeway for that favor. But his leeway is about to run out. Seriously. I’m throwing down the gauntlet. I’ve suffered this irritation for nearly 6 weeks. I won’t tolerate another minute of it. One more insult to my city or my friends and I’m going to beg the Praetor to dissolve the companionship on the grounds that he’s a spy for (insert current enemy here). *Ha!*
Permalink
1 Comment
I’ve lost sight of who I am and tonight a friend brought that back into focus. (Aye, my friend – you know who you are – if you read this you’ll be amused to know that for once a woman is pleased to have been put in her place.)
Sage is not an ugly person. She was raised to be kind and gentle. She was brought up to be a Lady. She was not made for fighting or intrigue. She was not born to live in hard and desperate times. At the center of who she is, what she wants is to spread joy through her poetry and to laugh with her friends and family. But of late, the laughter has been forced and worse, almost always at someone else’s expense. And that is not who she is.
So here’s to refocusing. Letting go of the bitchy side that’s taken hold and being the sweet, young, kind woman who walked into Port Kar all those ages ago. I’ll write my poetry and smile with my friends. I’ll encourage them to take more BTB roleplay and if they must target folks for their antics, let it be in fun, and not let OOC drama bleed over into the roleplay.
I worry about our world, the community that’s been built in Port Kar. Drama and infighting can tear it down. And there are a few personalities who seem to drive people away. I don’t want to be part of the problem. I want to be part of the community. So. A promise to myself to be better behaved from now on. Be Better. Be above the things that anger me and let them go. And hold on to the things that keep me coming back.
Permalink
2 Comments
“Give & Take”
(A duet spoken by a Captor and his captive.)
Dark eyes drink in female flesh, naked, bound
(Naked, bound, weeping, belly to the ground)
His blade, precise, parts her bonds by firelight
(By firelight, she flinches from steel and might)
Calloused hands on hips roll her to her back
(To her back, her wide eyes meet his so black)
A rough, sure touch, he assesses her charms
(Her charms on display, breasts, belly, legs, arms)
Cruel laughter, gentle touch, teasing her heat
(Her heat, oh shame! A proud woman’s defeat.)
Steel locks round her neck, proclaims her his prize
(His prize she yields, his kiss quelling her cries.)
Permalink
1 Comment
This is a kind of rambling free-form dialogue between the author and her inner character as we search for Sage’s motivation in life and work towards achieving some of her personal goals IC.
——————–
Lately the question is on my mind: “What does Sage want?”
I know what she would say IC if asked that question. So I’ll record those answers here:
HOME: A nice house with many rooms and several slaves to tend it. A strong man whose deep voice carries down the long halls and announces his arrival home. Possibly children, should her companion desire it and she love him enough to consent.
REKNOWN: She comes from a long line of people who enjoy the spotlight. Grandfather was of the entertainers and performing is in her blood. As well, her father, being a fine craftsman of stately robes in the city of glorious Ar she understands that it is often beneficial to have one’s name known by those in power.
But would having all of that really satisfy Sage? Would she wake each morning with a smile on her lips and welcome the day, pleased with her life if she had all of these things? Who’s to say.
What about Love? Doesn’t she want that?
Well. Sage has yet to feel true love. She’s felt admiration. Lust. Respect. Desire. There are very few men she’s met in her life that she feels she could love, if given the chance. Unfortunately, none of them felt strongly enough about her to help her out of the dregs. None of the men she knows felt strongly enough about her health and well being to offer her a home and hearth when she was destitute. So, can Sage love? Perhaps. But will she do so willingly, letting go of her anger and pride? Possibly not of her own free will.
No, none of the men she wanted offered her hearth and home. It wasn’t until a stranger came to Port Kar with a crooked smile and an overabundance of boyish charm that Sage found a way out of her miserable circumstance. He’s kind. He’s generous. He tries to do right by Sage. And at times, she surely enjoys his company and his affections. But does she love him? No. She sees his weaknesses and judges him harshly for them.
I think Sage could never love a weak man. Pity him, yes. Use him to her own ends, definitely – her time on the docks of Port Kar hardened her in ways she’s only just now discovering. But never love him. She holds an inward disdain for weak men. Men who indulge in vices to the point of lecherousness. Men who allow themselves to be brow-beaten by women or cajoled by slaves. Men who whine or complain that they dislike this or that, but do nothing to remedy or remove themselves from the situation.
So my next question is: “What is Sage destined for?”
I won’t record that answer here because I’m not certain of her direction. Perhaps when the FC ends she’ll find herself destitute again, living on the wharves. Or perhaps, she’ll have a caste again and won’t need the support of a man to survive. I suppose there is the possibility of another companionship eventually. Though whether for love or gain that remains to be seen. And as always, on Gor, there’s the possibility of slavery, as she is a pretty thing and once she is without a FC she won’t have a man to stand up for her.
Permalink
Comments Off
“If not restrained by his command I would lick the dust from his boots.”
I read that somewhere recently, don’t remember which JN book. That statement seems to me, the very definition of unreserved devotion.
A desire to please that is so intense, a slave would willingly and without reservation humble themselves so completely before another human being, putting her belly to the ground and serving in the most menial and degrading way imaginable.
As a reader, I like to roll the words over in my mind. Reading the quote again, it seems, the love is not only on the part of the slave: The first part of the quote: “If not restrained by his command … “ implies her Master thinks enough of her that she need not be so humbled or mistreated.
It’s a quote that resonates with me, personally. I see it as a glimpse into the culture of Master/slave.
Permalink
Comments Off
Me and my Karian Homegirls
Just a quick post with a fun pic I took recently. Sage is on her way – up? down? – fuggit. At any rate, I’m trying to become respectable, but I love my friends who’ve stuck by me all this time so I keep finding myself caught up in dreggy antics. Huzzah! LOL.
Permalink
Comments Off
In SecondLife (SL) you meet a lot of interesting personalities. When you travel in SL Gor you meet many interesting personalities, but most of us usually have something in common. Gor. Recently, in the past month or so, I began RPing with someone who claims to love Gor. But every time they get a chance they badmouth players who I know as longtime SL-Goreans and then harp on how much such-and-such city sucks or how such-and-such city is a laughing-stock.
Now, most of the time I tried to brush this stuff off. I understand strong personalities often have intense reactions to other strong personalities. But the more I’ve interacted with this individual the more I’ve come to see that they are not a strong person. Tearing down other peoples’ policies makes them feel smart, even though they have no policies to offer of their own. Bashing peoples’ actions and belittling their methods makes this person feel smart, though they refuse to acknowledge that these other players have a reason for their methods.
As if all of that isn’t annoying enough, I’d made the mistake of engaging this individual in my own RP scenario and allowing myself to be come friends OOC, often voice chatting about our day when things IC were slow.
For the past month, whenever I log on this person is right there wanting to know how I’m going to entertain them and when we can be alone to chat and RP one-on-one. At first I thought it was just their enthusiasm and that things would taper off and eventually I’d have most of my RP time back to myself, with this personality folded into my groups’ mix. Not so.
The more I get to know this individual the more I realize they have only their own interest, entertainment and indulgence at heart.This realization finally hit me a few nights ago during an RP session with just the two of us.
Everybody reading this probably knows what cyber is. And I’m going to admit it, right here in black and white, that I’ve indulged now and then with individuals who’s personalities I’d enjoyed and who had gained my trust.
I enjoy written cyber scenes, I consider them a fair exercise in creative writing. Anyone who’s ever tried to write a body of work that contained a love scene knows how intimidating that first draft can be. Good love scenes can make or break a written work for me as a reader.
So, yes. I indulge. Some of you might think of it as a nasty habit, but I’m going to assume the ones that think that have their own nasty habits, like picking their noses or not washing their hands after they pee. *ahem* … Now that I’ve dished and defended … My point.
We’re engaged in some one-on-one RP and this person keeps popping in on voice. I’ve explained more than once that I often have trouble voicing and RPing at the same time, especially during intense scenes such as sex, fighting or arguing for one’s own neck. Yet time and again this individual has no problem popping in and babbling away when I’m doing my thing. Even more irritating, if I don’t respond I get the 3rd degree in IM. After repeating myself several times during our scene, that voice and RP wasn’t working, this person finally said “Oh, well can we just voice then?” … And I responded with a “no, I like the long typed out emotes. Can we just play this way?” … after which I got a vague response, something like “ok” … then not 1 minute later a voice over the earphones asking me, to put it politely, if I was “into” our scene.
That was it. It finally hit me. This person doesn’t care what I want. This person doesn’t care what I get out of my RP or how my storyline develops or even if I’m enjoying myself as a human being. This person wants to be entertained and humored and placated and my needs or desires be damned.
So I logged.
Folks, RPing with me is a privelege. Not a right. I remembered that the other night. And I’m going to stick by that philosophy more firmly. I suggest you all do the same. Having standards, setting boundaries… these are GOOD things.
Permalink
Comments Off
As a modern woman why would I find a world like Gor facinating? I’ve asked myself that question a lot recently and here I’m going to try to explain my reasoning.
I’m a proud woman. I am proud of my accomplishments concerning education and career and I openly speak my mind when I’m confident I have something valuable to contribute. I work hard to be a credit to my profession and a point of pride to my family, my husband. I am a Free Woman. I try to behave as such.
But. I do so enjoy dominant, masculine men. I love the look in mens’ eyes when they watch a woman who’s form they approve of. It’s a totally male reaction and as a woman I cannot help but respond to it.
Many men in this modern time have had that look beaten out of them. Our society rebukes those who would express their feelings openly. I despise weak men. I despise men who would accept another’s pity. I despise men who would beg or whine to get their way. I prefer a direct question. An honest statement. A blunt directive.
Gorean philosophy states that all women are slaves, only some have not yet been collared.
I don’t know that I entirely disagree with that philosphy. Even enjoying my independence as I do, I often wonder, is there a man out there who could truly Master me without crushing the creative spirit that keeps my heart beating? But I like to think the answer is yes and that the man I married, that I love heart and soul, will someday embrace the philosophies I hold so dear and find the will and desire to master me entirely. Until that man emerges, I’ll be happy with what I have and occasionally fantasize of a more perfect world. I believe we all indulge in that, to one extent or another.
Permalink
Comments Off
The love-sworn heart
Standing on the ramparts
Cloaked shadow at his back
The bowman smiles at midnight stars
Moments before the attack
The killer’s blade plunges deep
piercing armor, mail and breast
and though the blade feels miles long
it’s barely inches deep in his chest
The bowman’s form fell from the roof
and lay sprawled on the stones below
and though his blood seeped from many wounds
he struggled and refused to let go
An old acquaintance happened by
before the bowman ran out of fight
and hauled his friend aboard a ship
with little hope he’d live out the night
The ship set sail on rocky seas
And the bowman fought for breath
and each time they thought his fight was done
He’d gasp and dodge his death
As if her memory tied his soul
tight to this mortal realm
He’d cry out in his fevered sleep
and her name was like a balm
A hand later he sailed back into port
Wind and salt in his hair
With a limp and sigh he set out for home
Sure his love would be there
Their cottage looked somehow wrong
as he approached the familiar door
and he shivered when he stepped inside
And set boots on an unswept floor
The hearth was cold, the dust long-settled
and his guts wrenched in horror
He staggered through a cloud of death
and burst in on her corpse slumber
His throat let loose a mournful sob
as he brushed her cold lips with a kiss
Small fists clutched to her silent chest
She’d yielded her heart for his.
Permalink
Comments Off
Wrapped in folds of linen and lace,
Nine veils layered to hide her face,
Jealous eyes mar her features.
She’d never admit it
But she’s often considered it
And she hates herself for the weakness.
The girl flounces by, long hair, bare thighs,
Obedience and desire plain in her eyes.
What wickedness and shame it kindles.
The lady steps lightly in the kajira’s path.
Angry at the beauty she lets free her wrath
And takes a whip to the slavegirl’s back.
The camisk is shred, the girl’s back runs red.
A bellow from the door fills them with dread.
Woman, has your mind come unhinged?
I buy you a wench to serve and to fetch
And you bloody and break the wretch.
What use is the beast if she’s dead?
The whip still gripped in her hand
The lady’s eyes watch her man
As she says with a cold, soft tone.
She’s learned her lesson
And no doubt she’ll hasten
To do my bidding when told.
And as for her serving,
She can refrain from furring
My man in my bed when I’m home!
That finally said, her vision went red
and she raised her arm high over her head
The whip clutched tight in her fingers.
Her man, a warrior, easily disarmed her
And cast her from him with a curse.
Woman you forget your place.
You raise a weapon against your own man?
I should take your life as the codes say I can.
But instead I’ll take your freedom.
And so our lady is a lady no more
Only a slave scrubbing pots, sweeping floors
Her jealousy smothered by steel.
And on those nights when she’s taken in hand
And her Master enjoys the fire lit by her brand
She yeilds in his arms, only a kajira.
Permalink
Comments Off
