Loyalty
PG. 12/13/2004.

My mistress' lover is dead, and she has forsaken her mother's world.

No longer will his deep musical voice echo against the thick walls of this house; no longer will the mirrors, the closed gateways, reflect bronzed skin. She has laid him to rest in the garden, reclaimed by the earth, and nothing remains of him but a few possessions--and a lingering scent of musk in the air, which perhaps only I can smell.

She sits on the cold floor, and weeps, and I cannot offer much comfort. I, too, have long since abandoned one world for another, and still cannot help but mourn its loss; though I would have been dead a thousand times over, had I stayed.

I curl myself in her lap, nuzzling her hand. "You may feel as if you were alone, in all the world, my lady," I whisper, "But I am always here."

End.

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