It is the smell. Even if you close your eyes, your brain knows where you are just by the smell. I have been here before, the message my body is telling me, even if i remembered none of it. Servitude. Destitude. Hopelessness. And not the least, pain. The sting of the whip across the flesh of my back might have brought dispair to some. For me, it was like a hug, welcoming me home. Again. I was stragely calm. Push, pull, the total of my existence.
The man delivering abuse to my body was not evil. I did not hate him. I know hate, and i did not feel such for this man. Push, pull, that is all he wanted from me. The whip was only a tool, telling me to try my best. Still, his breath was numbered in fewer days than my own. I would consider it a matter of principle, if i had any. Did i ever have any? Is that why i am chained to the oars?
I hated snakes. I hated Orc, even though i do not remember ever seeing one outside of paintings and tapestries. But the mere image of them caused a seething within my gut i knew for certin was hate. I hated Devon. Not because the love of my life betrayed me for him, though that would certainly be enough. Not because Arryn removed me from her life by chaining me to these oars to stand at his side, though that would have been enough. It was his eyes. I hated snakes. I hated Devon.
Both the man laying waste to my back and Devon were poor judge of characters. Had they better insight, i would be treated better, left alone or killed immediatly. But here i am. More the pity. For them. No matter how i long for Arryn to be happy, she deserves better than myself, my very breath is fear enough if she was looking for that happiness from...Devon. She had enough time to get to know me. Did she not know better than to let me live? Push, pull, and the sting of the whip. i was in a mood.
