Re: Nick & Wren: Fortunes
"Oui. Enough. As in here. Here, there are payments made for girls to work the streets. The current shérif, he is a good homme. But that has not always been the case in this place, et it has not been the case in many places I have been." It was as it was, and there was nothing to be done for it. The world was filled with a spiral of corruption, and it was easy to get sucked into the heart of that spiral. It was easy to drown, because happiness here was something dependent on money and on power, and those things could find the tarnish living in any soul. Et make no mistake, oui? That these things lived in everyone, saint and sinner, and they were no different one from the other.
She would tell him, if she knew to speak the words, that nothing about her was temporary. Her whimsy was a thing born of lack, of otherworld, of things seen that she didn't understand. It was born of void, and it was not a thing to go anywhere lightly or easily, and it was weighted bones and bated breath. But she did know dirty, and she believed the two could live in unity. Whimsy and filth, and all beneath this tent with the lights casting shadows on tarp.
"But not saying the words doesn't mean they aren't meant," she said of I love you. There was more than anger between these siblings, and she and she nodded. "Oui. I wish to know. I like to know the tales of others, no matter how good or ill they are." She sat back, as if her revelations were completed. "This is just talking, you and I. It isn't fortunes." There was, of course, a colorful bowl that accepted donations for the things she told, but she didn't motion to it, and she asked no money of him. She was no saleswoman, but she listened well, and that was always her strongest asset. It was the thing she sold, truly, this blank slate that knew not how to share the emotions told to her. She made a poor friend, but she made a good listener.