---𝐊𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 is three things:
A lover, a psychopath and a liar. Trapped between her own two perfect visions of hell,
Kiara wants to free herself from the service of others, yet her only way out of this trap puts her into servitude of...
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It wasn't just a spark It was fire and it roared It wasn't just a dribble It was heavy rain that poured
~🔥~
Once again, Kiara sat on the end of her rustic four poster bed, its frame draped with luxurious cloths of dazzlingly white silk. The bed itself lay messy, the pillows heaved over each other in a crumpled mess. The duvet was slung off the foot of the bed, dangling over its edge and resting on the polished hardwood floor beneath.
"See you around!" She said calmly
She didn't how many times she'd sat there, clothes falling limply around her slender form, as she tenderly kissed her latest lover goodbye before watching them leave, cursing them and counting their money the second they were out of sight. Her bright smile quickly turning to a curled and crooked lip. Kiara often wondered who she hated more: the men or herself. But it was always the same conclusion. It was always them.
Sighing, she looked to distract her mind. Gazing down at the palm of her hand, Kiara slowly wriggled her fingers, taking in a deep breath. Something started to spark between them, as if the flow of air between her fingers was creating some sort of unseen friction.
What is happening to me,
The sparks grew bigger, until a flame emerged; a slither of fire that Kiara absent-mindedly twirled between her knuckles.
There was a knock at the door.
In a lurch of panic, Kiara quickly clenched her fist, extinguishing the flame. The knock came from Verva, the owner of the establishment in which Kiara worked. She never waited for an answer and a moment later, her head was around the door, smiling pleasantly.
What does she want from me!
"Kiara!" Verva greeted,
"Good work this morning, my girl. It's quiet downstairs now, the parade is starting. Why don't you go down and see if you can drum up some business for later? I'm sure you'll find more there!" RVerva Said cheerfully
"I'm sure you'll find more at the parade!"
Kiara said nothing, she just nodded. Verva had learnt to accept no more than this and skulked out, closing the door behind her. Kiara took another soothing breath, lifting her nose to the ceiling, she tried to quell her inner anguish. If there was one thing she hated more than letting men do what they did, it was going into town to convince them to do it.
Heaving herself up, her body clearly rejecting her mind's purpose, not wanting to leave the solitude of her room, she headed for the door.
Kiara emerged from what she not so fondly referred to as her carefully disguised prison, into a lurid courtyard of redstone walls; walls covered in climbing flowers that wove their way amongst the wooden slatted windows and two-story terraces that sprawled across this affluent corner of the city. The sun-soaked shrine in the centre, a bronze statue of some old dead hero, shimmered in the light. Kiara sneered as she passed the metallic monstrosity. Every time she saw it there, she wondered why nobody else seemed to spot the vulgarity beneath. A hero of the people, standing guard outside a house of pleasure, corruption and despair.
"What a day!" She said sarcastically
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Against the wall of the brothel, Kiara spotted a fellow worker, head between her knees, weeping. Some girls couldn't handle the life they were forced into. Kiara didn't pause to comfort her, she wasn't interested in more tedium than she was already subjected to today.
The heat of the high-noon sun pummelled the sandstone paving along which Kiera wandered, bringing beads of sweat to her forehead. Why they called this city Coldmore she'd never know. Eight years she'd lived here, and it was never cold.
Like seriously, No Winter, not breeze , it rarely rains in here! I like to call it Hotmore.
Why is it called like that? Out of all names!
She'd always thought to ask about the name, but dreaded the idea of an answer longer than a sentence or two.
People liked to talk too much.
This district of the city rose high with more two-story redstone houses. Narrow and constantly splitting off in new directions, the streets were like a maze. You could easily get lost here, easily lose an afternoon, but Kiara didn't care. It was quiet here. Just how she liked it. A moment's peace. Time without a man in her ear.
It was remarkable, Kiara mused to herself as she made her way further down the streets towards a growing sound of cheers and screams somewhere beyond the maze of houses, that despite being told hour after hour how beautiful she was, she felt anything but.
Not that their opinions would mean much to her under a different circumstance anyway.
Kiara had little interest in what most people had to say.
