Inanna (fight_for_me) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-03-22 13:17:00 |
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Current mood: | crazy |
Current music: | "This Town", The Go-Gos |
Entry tags: | ba'al hammon, inanna |
Who: Inanna (fight_for_me), Ba'al (my_carthage)
What: A last hurrah - having fun before the end.
Where: The Bronx, Sin City strip club and then on the street.
When: Sunday night, late.
Warnings: Ishtar!crazy, ramblings, sex, drugs, blood, I dunno what all else.
Any stripper knows how the crowd at a club tastes different on different nights. Friday nights are wild and high, like E and poppers, a roaring rush before the Sunday-morning crash; Tuesday nights are smooth and mellow, like an old whiskey drunk real slow, burning so nice on the way down. Sundays, though, Sundays are something else entirely. The mood on a Sunday night is hard and desperate, straight shots on a hangover to cover the bile in the back of the throat. The death of the weekend makes everyone rush to get in as much living as they can.
Inanna was in a Sunday-night mood. Now that everything was settled and she only had to wait for the dark of the moon, she was ravenous for life, while she had it, and for the pleasures that were not to be found in Ereshkigal's kingdom. She was dancing for all she was worth, infecting patrons and strippers alike with all the lusts that were hers, and the desires in the club were heightening. Her women danced and writhed with the passion of her long-ago temple girls; the patrons, men and women, pursued like her warriors; it was good, so good, when the first couple broke the no-sex-in-the-main-room rule, and the rest quickly followed.
As the lust permeating the air pushed the mortals toward a full-out orgy (too modern and too Roman for Inanna's taste, but she had to work with the times), the ancient goddess wrapped her power around her like a regal cloak and left the club. She was glowing, high on some improbable combination of drugs and power and lust, and ready to spend it all while the moon still shone, ready for sex and blood. The first mortal she saw, a young one, hardly a man yet, was so honey-sweet that she left him hardly marked at all, just dazed and sated in an alleyway. The next one wasn't so lucky, after he had the poor judgment to attempt to hold onto her once she was finished with him -- she summoned up her ancient craft and found her lioness's claws just for a moment, and a moment was all it took to slash his throat open.
She threw her head back to laugh, loud and wild, at the desperate gush of blood, at the twitching body, as she strode from the alley in search of further quarry to take, to fuck, to conquer. In her heart she was singing, the words of her favored priestess, her best-loved prophet, her En-hedu-Ana: In her joyful heart she sings the song of death on the plain. She sings the song of her heart. She washes weapons with blood and gore, she makes the dust red. She comes with the voice of Ickur, she howls destruction with the thunder and the wind... She is mighty! She is unconquered! Praise her!
Inanna would be remembered. The people would know her names until the end. Even in the Underworld, she would remember her purpose, and she would come back. She was the Lady, after all. Even if her desires and her needs were tearing her apart, even if she had asked her Death to take her down again, she would not die in the Underworld. She, the Ornament of Heaven, the Morning and Evening Star, daughter of the Moon, sister of the Sun, Lady of Heaven and Earth, would always return.