Thread: A Devil's Game ::: {Ariamella & Prince of Smut}

RE A Devil's Game Ariamella Prince I am here to help you... to transport you to a different world. Please, tell me what worries you, Balthazar urged again as Macy hesitated. Once she began to speak, he settled in to listen with visible excitement. And yes, I have taken a job before that I thought was much better than it turned out to be. Shitty as you say, yes... but even in a shitty job you may still find some true joy. Balthazar was a skilled listener, nodding, furrowing his brow, and tsking at the right times to draw more out of her and encourage her to hold nothing back. At key moments, he'd mutter in French to show his understanding of Macy's situation, issuing occasional tasteful phrases like Merde , C'est nul! or Oh puree! Macy's plight seemed to strike a nerve and he was shaking his head in sympathy by the end, a dark frown on his lined face and his black eyes sorrowful. Mon ange , it breaks my heart to hear your plight. I can tell how intelligent you are. How driven, ambitious, and hardworking you must be. To have what you deserve snatched from you by...., replied Balthazar with his face suddenly growing hard. ....these putain ! Yes, these whores! Salopes . Tramps. Morue . Sluts. Who futre their way to promotions and steal your credit. A woman like that, who uses her looks and her body to get what she wants, not her brain, well.. it is terrible, so terrible! They must be punished. Balthazar exhaled as he shook his head a final time, then sat back and looked thoughtful. Although, sometimes you can learn from them. Not that you'd ever be a common putain , but sometimes their tactics can be usurped in nobler ways. You aren't a putain , I know, so you don't understand them. It almost would be easier if you spent time walking in their shoes, to know your enemy. I've always thought that you shouldn't, say, scorn a beggar on a street as beneath you until you've been a beggar yourself. Once you've climbed from a low valley on your own, only then can you look down with pride. Can you truly hold yourself above someone else if you were just born above them? Can you deserve greatness if you've never truly experienced misery? Would you even appreciate your glory without knowing what ignomy feels like? murmured Balthazar while looking up absently at the painting above the check-out counter, his eyes distant and manner almost as if he was speaking to himself. With a start, he turned to Macy and a sly smile crossed his aged face. Pardon ! I ramble as an old man who gets philosophical. What matters is your problem and how I may help you make it go away in a practical means. And it turns out I may have just the book for you! said Balthazar with a clap of his hands at the end. Without waiting to hear Macy's answer, he stood up excitedly and walked to his desk to unlock a drawer. He withdrew a large, leatherbound and very old book and carried it reverently over to Macy before presenting it to her formally. Voila ! This is a very ancient and rare book, created hundreds of years ago and imbued with special magic. It is rumored, and I can't make a guarantee, to fulfill the dreams and ambitions of a person who signs their name within it, said Balthazar. The dark leather was very aged, with faded spots and many darker stains across it. Worn brass fixtures were used for its heavy spine, in the flat rivets that appeared to bind the leather to some harder material under the cover and back, and for a clasp used to keep it closed. In a spidery calligraphy across the front was written The Book of Wishes, for those with Most Desperate Need