(no subject)

[annwfyn.livejournal.com]

Ruth Riley sat quite still in the dark.

She had not moved for several hours. She was hoping that if she stayed still for long enough she would fade away into nothingness. She would become smoke, like her mother and her father had done before her.

But she had not changed. Her body was still as solid as it always was, only now the room was thick with the scent of smoke and pork crackling, as salty as sin. That was how Ruth's fear smelt. And Ruth was afraid. In the name of the god of her fathers, she was afraid.

No one had told her for almost a month that she had been made a non-person.

A whole month in which she had gone about her business, in which she had walked through the streets, not noticing whether anyone was following her, in which she had slept the careless sleep of the secure.

And all that month she had been a non-person.

Old memories ran through Ruth's head. She pushed them back down into the depths of her skull. She didn't want to think about that kind of time. She didn't want to let it haunt her still.

But how could she forget about it when someone had made her a non-person again.

All her instincts screamed at her to run. Don't wait. Don't linger in the place where she wasn't wanted. Get out. Find a new patron. Find somewhere safe.

Then somewhere, deep inside, another voice growled.

Maybe Ruth had been running long enough. Maybe it was time to fight back. And maybe she would find a way to ensure that the next time offerings were given to the fire, the sharp acrid smell of an executioner's blood would linger on the air.