Achieving overbind is not the easiest thing.
— Loveless Gal —A day-to-day, slice-of-life quest and investigative thriller, set in an ‘early modern’ fantasy setting, and written in first-person-perspective.
— Archives —Loveless Gal archive: (3 threads)https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=loveless%20gal%20quest
The Green Lamps district - once, a territory whose sole residents were punks*prostitutes and folk needing of their service. Since such distant days, many, many establishments have taken root within it; alehouses, eating places, teahouses, and its freshly birthed, outlandish*foreign kin, coffeehouses. Confederacies of such breadth can become so mighty, it intrenches itself as inalienable (yet outlaw) part of society. And amongst us - the freefolk - for better and worse, none could rival one within our capital, Clawflash; an island surrounded by the five great rivers, the center of commerce, the place where knowledge can coalesce whether it be inborn or outland, the spearhead of our country’s advancements! But such a romance is so often repeated without mention of its particulars. “You will sneeze. Inhale.”The inmingle of knowledge is useful, I will admit that much; extraction of the placenta, suture of the umbilical cord, orientation of the skull — midwifery is hardly the province of most women, let alone men. “They’re here, child.” Whilst I wash off the stench, Judar, having momentarily retired from the frontage, enters the room holding a great and lumpy sack. The brothel-keeper scuttered away as speedily she did appear once I seized it. “The fish stench fluid will linger for two or three weeks. Laxatives ought to hasten the removal. Stay near warm places. Wash yourself with warm towels.” Wearily, I make a repeat of the which I have said to so many others not so many moons ago.“…”“A- hah.”“Tha- thanks, Sirawun. I- I owe you one.” Her voice is still nervy from the pain. A small bunch of huffs and pants follow her attempt at leaning further back. I begin to undo the sack’s many knots. “Diligence in maintenance of your body would have been nice. Safflower. Crocodile’s tail. Rue. Any of these - in sufficient amounts and concentrations - would purge the child before it could quicken.” Malcontent seeps through my words, a little more than I wished. The sack opens regardless. “I shall retire to the forest. If you need of anything, ask Nipar.” I seize the freshly strangled child, thumbing the cloth a tad deeper in his mouth before joining him with the rest of the children. A moment scantly passed before the ropes were wheeled around and tied back, resuming normality.“I am- I never wished for this.” She’s long accustomed to the contents by now, but Tuhnidar’s eyes dimly lingers on the sack. “I know.”
Undesired pregnancy is not a particular outlandish to the Green Lamps district, but more often is the case, they are consequent not from frequenters, rather, colleagues. In any case, such difficulties are often resolved through 2 roadways; termination of the child within the body, and outside the body. The former, more efficacious, but may expel blood more amply. The droning of insects gets louder with each step I take in the back garden, with only the occasional crackling of dried leaves as respite — They’ll be exceeded by those cocks and gulls soon enough. With sufficient measure from the brothel, I relieve my shoulder of the shovel and the bundles tied to each end. After a while, the difference between bone and flesh becomes less significant; a slush, held together by an increasingly frayed skin.“mhm.”Something stirs amongst the branches — not that I have any intention of unearthing it, given how promiscuous*indiscriminately mingled the leaves are. So I ought to leave off with it…The persistent stirring has loosened quite a number of leaves on my hair, of all things. Prodding the branches in retribution, I feel not the creaks of old branches, rather, a coarse, leathery thing. “¡hAaH!” In consequence, a piercing cry, as if a puppy’s - but the which that came down was far more queer; promiscuous entrails and a head so full of hair, it bears more resemblance to a ball of yarn. Well, one impregnated with leaves and splinters, I suppose.Shortly after the pile in its entirety falls down, I see a sliver of tallow-white skin and cracked lips underneath such sluttish*slovenly hair. “… pretty.” It hops and stumbles towards my feet.Hardly the first woman who complimented and wished to nibble on my calves. But. As much as I wish to indulge her, the sweaty, rotten smell from her mouth (and my current obligations, I suppose) dissuade me from such a course. “Thanks, ma’am.” I kneel down to pet her head. It’s cold. “But I am occupied.” With a sigh, I stand and walk back to the sack.“hungry.” Her head twitches and turns as I seize the corpses and bury them. The hound-like enthusiasm in her pants dies down as the sack grows more flaccid.Subsisting on carcasses, troubled water, and what else, isn’t much a living. I suppose I might as well — I toss her the last one.… Scantly a moment passed after sinking her teeth into the infant did she choke and cough out bits of fat and bone. “Tch.” It got a chuckle out of me; like watching folk step on horseshit in the rain whilst I was safely inside an eating place all over again. I continue my laughter for a moment before fetching a dagger behind my waist.
“All these ‘ifs’ and ‘when’ and ‘could’ -- I do not entertain hypotheticals, mister Sirawun. The world is vexing enough. A reliable course for those abortives first, then we’ll talk quarters and pay.” The brothel-keeper softly refuses my ask. It still hurts regardless. “Hah, she smothered it?” Marna brushes his finger across his eyes as we try to find a cookshop this early in the day. “She did~” Exhausted, physically and mentally, I moan. Not that Green Lamps at four is not much to look at, either.“The notion was stillborn, in any case.” I drag my feet across the coarse roadway as we walk. My fingers cling to my cuffs for warmth. “A shame that wasn’t the case a week ago.” The cold air makes apparent his accompanying sigh. Can’t say I wished for otherwhat either. Then again…“never send a woman to do a man’s work~” Breathily, I make light of the which that had come to pass recently. “H— tch, hahaAhA. Ne-- never send a woman–” It didn’t take long before both of us were laughing as if mad. It’s just as well; we exhausted the laughter from child rape a long while ago - it’s time we talk of a matter less outlandish. Runny eggs and rice return warmth to my cheek; fish sauce and onions give texture and life to the meal; tofu milk, a remedy to shivering calves and fingers.“See you ‘round. I’m off. Best of luck on that course of yours.” Having breakfasted, Marna takes his leave. No doubt he’ll fall asleep during the mid-day again. Probably with his man-catcher still in hand. (Sira by my lonesome yet again!)Hm. Abortive medicine. Or ingredients of it, in any case. There was only ten last time; I know damned well this difficulty does not envelop the entirety of Green Lamps. Asking those siblings will be my best shot, unfortunately. I need some sort of lubricant to - even - be allowed in that gambling house. ( … )The clocktower bangs its drums as hours go by. My hands grow heavy with bottles of rice wine and chocolate bricks. I ought to get something for my folk before I leave the market district.>Blood pudding & brightly-colored clothA buttery jelly made from pig’s blood. A nice snack for Warin. She deserves better than scraps of rice and troubled water. And according to the Players of the Art, having such cloth around should make someone like her more lucid. I’m sure she can be of help. The faster I solve this difficulty, the less suffering my colleagues will be in. I do not enjoy digging graves.>Cacao shells & Mali* Jasmine candlesIt cannot fully quell the irregularities of the body a week after giving birth, but chocolate tea ought to bring some frith and stillness to her. Tuhnidar (according to her folk, at the least) has a fondness for such a flower. When a man falls - as opposed to a log - you don’t stomp on him. Judar extended her hand to me when I had nothing. I shall advance that.
>>6161730brutal, holy shit>>6161732>Blood pudding & brightly-colored cloth
>Blood pudding & brightly-colored cloth
>>6161732The return of Sira! Excited to see how it loops into Gal & Company's saga. Welcome back, QM!>Blood pudding & brightly-colored cloth
Writing.
A sneak-peak.
Wrapping up the flashback, see you tomorrow.
