Wherefore Weep I Then?

Content Warnings: Click here for warnings

"But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners."

February 17th

Wake up. 

A gray, cloudy day. What time is it? Not late enough, I know that. I could go back to sleep - no. I can't hide from this.

Get up. Feet on the floor. Now, wash up, brush out my hair, put on a dress. Three things, Cecily. Just three more things.

Someone's been in to light the fire. Should I call the maid? No. I don't want her. I don't want help.

What color do I wear today? Gray? Or black? Black. They expect black. Black is respectful, appropriate. I'll wear black for Mother. Mother never surrendered her dignity to what he was.

My Man’s as True as Steel

"Admired Miranda!"

February 1st

One look at the street on which the Palamon brothel stood sank Puck's heart. If Hermia had seen where her beloved cousin had been going all these months, she would have lost her mind. It was hardly the worst place to be found in the Old City, but it was dark and lined with nooky buildings and alleys in which people could be easily lost. For all Puck knew, every building could have been filled by honest people. His gut told him otherwise, and his mind told him to keep walking.

The inside of the brothel was a relief: it was calm and relatively clean. Puck had aimed for the common supper hour, that the place might be as empty as possible. There was only one other person in the room. The young woman behind the counter had a gimlet eye turned on him. Self-conscious, he smoothed out his coat.

"Can I help you?"