The Offering (Lesbian, Gay, Girlxgirl)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Brielle was pressed for time. When she slipped from the house a while ago, the sun was still colossal and glorious, blinding her if she stared at it long enough. She had to squint and cover herself with a woolen shawl before going about. Now, the sky was a warm orange glow, the subtle beginnings of dusk falling like a shadow on their city. The sun, which had partially left her sightless, had turned into a small ball. It could fit nicely on her palm if she held them against the sky, but Brielle had no time for such games, and so she walked on to her destination.

The city was restless. Any other day, only people coming home from work would be seen on the streets. They'd be dog-tired, shoulders slumped, and quick to walk to reach their homes. It was different today. Everywhere she went on the market, Brielle bumped into someone. She didn't recognize any of their faces, but she was sure that if they stared long enough, they'd know who she was. Hers was a face people wouldn't likely forget.

There were high and low buzzes of conversations all over. Sometimes the talking was an incomprehensible sound, like the buzzing of a bee that was meant to stay in the background. Sometimes the words made sense, and when they did, Brielle tilted her head to listen.

"It's tonight, isn't it?" an old woman by a fruit stall said. Her voice was loud, carrying, as if the man she was talking to wasn't a few feet away.

"Yeah," the man said. "They're going to announce our defender on the square. Have you heard what they were saying about her?"

"Talin? What of the girl?"

The man gave a dubious look. "And I thought you were updated with the rumors. Some market seller you are." He beckoned the woman with a finger until they were close enough to whisper. Still, Brielle could hear them when she paused. "They said she's cruel, brutal. She murdered kids when she was ten years old."

It was the woman's turn to look dubious. "You talk as if they wouldn't kill Talin back. She was doing herself, and us, a favor." She noticed Brielle listening and frowned. "Run along, slave. You have no business here."

Brielle ducked her head and wrapped her woolen shawl tighter against her face before wandering off. She was relieved that no one saw who she was, only her clothes.

Slaves of their time were required to wear coarse tunic that were usually hand-me-downs from the masters. Though hers were newer than what others wore, everything was the same, she was a slave, a nothing, an anonymous stranger who wasn't out and about without permission from anyone.

Snippets of conversations about the announcement happening later made it to her ears, but Brielle wasn't listening anymore. She'd heard enough about it, not only from the market-goers, but from the master himself. She concentrated on the smell instead. One couldn't go into the market ignoring them.

When she rounded the corner, the citrusy aroma of oranges, lemon, and lime changed into honey-cured bacon, so powerful that she could taste the sweetness on her tongue. Why did she torture herself so? Brielle knew that she wouldn't eat until after the announcement was done. Even then, her master had to be served first. She had a long way to go.

There was another turn, another corner. She passed several alleys, crossed roads, entered shop's front doors and exited through their back doors, before she finally broke through the street that she came for.

Brielle gazed at the lonely house with mixed feelings. There were other houses on each of its side, yet that particular house was all she could look at. Three stories tall, a basement, an attic, and a garden at the back. She had it burned at the back of her eyes, memorized each room, every nook and cranny. Brielle swallowed the lump on her throat and crossed the street towards it.