Ladykylin

I have reclaimed my body. I am comfortable in my own skin, probably for the first time since I hit puberty, I am completetly happy with how I look. With the good and the bad, the bit of a gut, and the strong back. I am not ashamed, I am not proud, it is mine. And for that reason I should love it. Several years ago, something happened, something that I don’t think either of us will ever forget anytime soon. A terrible sick man, changed how I felt about myself in a way I doubt he could ever comprehend. The pressure of being female that had grown since early pubertiy came to a horrible bursting point. I didn’t want to even be human for a while. I did not hate men, I didn’t hate anyone in particular, and hated being a phyiscial being. I wanted to be more, the human body was not something to be celebrated, it was something to be tolerated. I dind’t see buety there, just the physical trappings of a person. I wished to be andrgonous so I wouldn’t have to worry about the issues that being either gender create. I wished I could just opt out of the whole issue, at least until I met someone worth going through that mess for.

But I’ve changed, life drawing, has changed my perception. I’m finnaly at a point where I’m completely comfortable in my own skin. I can stand naked and be comfortable with my own nudity. I am me. I have finnaly reclaimed a self comfort that I lost in the early years of puberty. For the first time in a very long time I’m comfortable with my own skin and my own head.

All becuase I let myself be seen, I put myself on display, and I saw something beutifull, I saw me. As I could never see myself in the mirror or a picture. There is nothing more forgiving then the eyes of an artist.

That is why I’m going to keep posing, I really hope you can understand that, or at least accept it. This is something I am going to do, and keep doing.

Nudity, sexuality and the media.

Something which I kind of hate the media for doing is protraying nudity as inherenty sexual, to the point where most people aren’t even comfortable in thier own bodies. In a way it’s like hte media, or perhaps society, or both, whatever, has claimed us, by telling us what are boides are for. Males are taught that females are for sex and beyond that mystery, between that and the mess of hormones teenage boys have to go through, it’s not a wonder there are so many guys that have such a warped idea as to what a female is and wants. Really it’s not that diffrent. And then you get the shit girls get fed. You have to be pretty, you have to be thin, but not to thin, you need ot dress right, oh and that hair anywhere but your head, it’s gotta go. Oh and wear a short skirt, but not to short or else your a slut. They become self concious, they lose what is thiers, their body becoems something they are told what to do with, rather then something they do what they want with.

I don’t know what I’m talking about I’m rambling. I just find how uncomfortable people are in thier own skin to be worrisome and alarming. I recently posed nude for a life drawing class, and I feel so much more at ease with my own body then I ever have. I feel prettier then I ever had, yes even more then when I was dolled up for my sister wedding or for graducation, becusae this was just me, and some of the stuff those artist made while I posed was absolutely stunning. And it was me. I am beutifull, just me, no fancy dresses, no makeup, no mircle diet. I am beutifull.

And so are you. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.

Crow paced on a high roof top

_Well you’ve done it now Crow.

“Not like I could have done anything diffrently.”

_No, but you could just walk in line for a little while, wait for the baby _

“NO.”

Do you know how to take care of a crying squabbling child?

“It deosn’t matter, I’ll figure it out. I’ll find a way.”

Really?

“I didn’t come this far to just give up.”

Who said anything about giving up? Just delay

“Jevel woudl end up dead becuase he trusted me.”

Jevels a fool, you can find another to replace him.

Crow shook his head, willing their to be silence in his mind.

I’m not that easy to get rid of.

“You are not real,” Crow shouted, turning around there was no one there, no one but him, alone on a roof top. Just him, and the crows.

He’ll die either way. Do you thinking helpin you will endear him to them?

“He’s not a fool, and he wants to help, I’m getting out of this.”

And if she dies becuase of the pregnancy? You know what they did, why she really shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant

“It deosn’t matter, I’ll not be their pet anymore.”

No you’ll be insane, you know what it really is that keeps me quite.

The glimmiering red, always dark no longer how bright the light. There was some in his pocket, he’d taken it off Phil.

And how long do you think it would be until you lost control again?

“I didn’t have her before.”

And if she dies?

“Then you’ll finnaly get what you’ve been after the whole time,” Crow said. “Becuase I won’t care anymore.”

and until then

“I’ll make you a treaty.” Crow said, swallowing hard.

I’m listening

“You help me get out, and I won’t always stop you.”

You’ll hate yourself for it.

Crow shrugged.

What if you die before she does?

“Consider that your inscentive to help keep me alive, instead of help keep me inline.”

It was thinking, Crow could tell when it was, some unused part of his mind was being sorted through, rearranged. If you agree to stop trying to get rid of me then it’s an accord.

“I’ll only agree to that if you agree to be silent when Adele or our children are around.”

It’s presence churned, thinking, long and hard. We have an accord

“Then we’ve got work to do.”

Crow dropped down infront of the sprawing building that made up a whore house and drug den, and of course there was gambling to.

“Who are you?” One of the door keepers asked, “This is an exclusive establishment.”

“I’m the Silver Crow.”

The two watchmen looked at each other, fear followed by doubt crossed their drug sunken faces. “Gonna need some proof of that.”

“Sure.” Crow said, flicking his wrist, a throwing knife going deep into the second watchmen’s eye, he stumbled backwards a half step, then crumpled to the ground, dead.

The first guard backed off as Crow retrived his blade. “Where’s your boss?”

“He’s in side, I don’t know where, ask someone in there, you don’t get door duty if your in the know, I don’t know, he’s in htere though” The guard rattled off the words, as Crow approched, blood dripping throwing blade held in a casual grip. “I swear I don’t know anymore then that.”

“Alright,” Crow grabbed the dead door guards coin purse and weighed in in his hands, “After tonight you work for me.” He tossed the still living guard the deadmans money.

“Okay…”

“You want to leave now,” Crow said, and headed inside.

Dim light shone over the drug den, the stink of opium and hatch mingled with acrid sweat and whore’s perfume. None of the patron’s in thier drug brought oblivion noticed him, the drug dealer and bar tender at the back of the room did.

“Who are you?”

Crow sighed. “I’m the Silver Crow, tell me where your boss is, and I’ll let you keep your job after I kill him.”

“There’s a right high bounty on him,” One of the more lucid patron’s said, “Some fancy duke will make it worth the while of anyone that can seprate the pretty elven head from the rest of em.”

“Look I’m having a rather bad evening, so if you draw your sword, your going to die,” Crow said, stepping through, barely distrubing the saw dust on the floor. “So whose going to tell me where the big bad boss is?”He flipped the throwing blade across his knuckles.

A tall beareded fellow shifted his weight, his hand still heavily on his sword, by his stance he used to be military, and failed at being a mercenary to, probably becuase he drank to much.

“Well?” Crow asked again, the bearded solider of fortune shifted again, “I’ll make it worth your while.” The throwing knife turned to a large golden coin.

“He’s up stairs, the master suite, it’s the last door on the right,” The barkeep said.

“Don’t lie to me, it’s not a good idea,” The throwing knife flew through the air, and pierced through the bartenders ear leaving the top split and bloody. “That is the only warning any of you are going to get.”

The solider of fortune shifted again. “You know where he is.” Crow said, a new throwing knife in his hand, “Please don’t lie, I’m not particualry fond of torture.”

“He’s in the backroom, there’s a hidden door behind the bar, just pull on the hookha pipe hanging off the wall there.”

“Good man,” Crow said, and flipped hte fat golden coin towards him. Crow did as the solider of fourtune had said and ended up in an even dimmer room, he adjusted to the darkness quickly.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed tonight.”

“That’s to bad, becuase I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.” Crow said, shoving a thick curtin aside, and entering a bedroom of sorts. It had beds and cushions, and several people sleeping, all slender barely dressed women, sitting over a chess board was Nortien, and Phil. “Didn’t expect to see you though Phil. How’s the hand?”

“Just fine.”

“Pity.”

“Didn’t I tell you never to come here Phil?”

“I’m contracting a buisness deal, after our litte swarie in the market square I was resassigned.” Phil said, “Someone else entirely is responsible for dealing with you.” The noblemen said.

“Were you the one that put the price on my head?”

“No hte emporeor himself did that, I’ve never seen him so furious.”

“Surpsied your still alive.” Crow said.

“Only reason I am is becuase giving you such a long leash wasn’t my idea, in fact I was agasint it. The idoit Talshien spent a week in the dungeon before finnaly dieing. Don’t envy him in the least.” Phil said, he managed to meet Crow’s gaze for a few long momments, before looking away.

“And you spent a little time there to didn’t you.” Crow said, “Nothing quite like agony to make one grow a spine.”

“It’s a terrific motivator, as I’m sure your aware.”

“This pretty boy is the Silver Crow?” The Nortien asked, his juandese yellowed face screwing into a grin which was missing half it’s teeth.

“I’m at least twice as old as you are you disgusting waste of breath.” Crow said, “You are not a part of this conversation. Do not speak again.”

“Crow what’s wrong?” Adele asked joining him on the balacony where he stood braced agasint the stone railing, his bare scare covered back glistening from sweat in the moonlight. He didn’t move. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Your burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you are not. Your in withdrawl.” She said.

“I’ll be fine then. I just needed some cool air.”

“Did you ever consider that you might actully need the drugs they were giving you?” Adele asked, leaning agasint the railing looking at his drawn face.

He shook his head, “This isn’t new.”

“But it is worse.”

He shook his head again. “Just longer.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Point me in the direction of something or someone that needs a beating,” Crow said.

“Does that actully help?”

Crow shrugged, “sometimes.”

She turned around, “How about the owner of the whore house that turned down our genrous offer to buy it.”

He gave a devlish laugh, “You realize he’s the head of the mafia right?”

“I’m sure you can handle his thugs,” Adele said, “And I think you’d make a fine mobboss.”

Crow gave another laugh, "Then I should probably get dressed properly.