The Dark Era GPSL

Such a strange day. It's been hard and Letitia sets her own feelings and faults aside. She needs a distraction and her distraction is usually the twins. That's what she calls them, knowing they aren't twins at all, or even brother and sister. They might as well be. Their connection is just as strong.

There are very few that Letitia allows herself to care for. She's usually so good at separating what she needs to do and what she shouldn't do but sometimes emotions bake. Love is something that often just happens. There's no stopping it. It's a large, unwieldy force and to try to control it is to have it destroy everything.

That's how it had been with Rebekah and Miles when she found them in the snow. It had been love at first sight. She had wanted to protect them, unaware that some magic might be an influencing factor. It didn't matter. She didn't care if there was. They were an anchor. A reason to keep going.

Out from the carriage she jumps, not waiting for Drew as she hurries into the Wytchwood and up the grand staircase of the whorehouse. When she gets to Rebekah's room she doesn't even knock. She just hurls open the door and tarries in, worried and excited to hear how it went, to make sure that she is alright.

"Are you alright?" She looks around the room to find her, "I would have been here sooner but I got caught up."

"You could have done worse for your first time." She tells Rebekah, who is on one side of the obscene red velvet couch in the parlor. She doesn't say that once the bloom is rubbed off, it would get worse. Not every one that stumbles into Marceline's is young, handsome, and well scented. Most are old and dried out like prunes.

There was nothing worse than a horny raisin.

Fletcher had been coming to Wytchwood for a long time. He was tall, broad, and exceptionally pleasant to look at, but she hadn't brought this up. Rebekah might remember him if she'd decided to describe him, but she thought it would be better for the girl to be pleasantly surprised.

The glass Letitia holds seems like it is filled with red wine, but is not. It is a sherry glass half full of the new blood that had just arrived. Not too much, just enough to pink her pretty places. She's waiting for her own cull to come claim her, and she doesn't want to fill up before he does.

"Don't worry, dearest. You're a spool of lovely. He'll want to unwind you a little at a time. He'd paid a great deal for having you. Let him." There's a knock at the door, and she wonders if it could be either Fletcher or Owainn early for their appointments. She fusses with Rebekah's hair just in case, wanting her to present perfectly, hoping that Fletcher is as kind to an innocent than he'd been with her.

Sometimes too kind, but that was a lifetime of experiences biasing her for the more extreme measures of her sexual pleasures.