Junar 27, 1448
"Happiness is just a few coins away!" The pimp's call rings false one last time as I leave the cesspool that is Vehl. For over forty-five years I slaved for these 'coin collectors', but no more. They finally cast me out, damaged goods, no longer an asset to their trade. As if I had ever been anything else; I am an outcast for life. Squeezed out by my mother and left in the gutter. Weened and nursed by the handmaidens of Vehl's lowlifes, only to be sold into service. No care for my person, no tears for my plight, only the cold shine of coins.
Thus, I grew up in a house of ill repute or perhaps dubious luster, depending on your council. I slaved in the kitchen and in the seedy, little rooms. I was kicked and beaten, until the day that I -despite everything- blossomed into a rare and delicate thing of beauty. My skin an unblemished white, my hair a smoky brown and my eyes a strange swirled grey, I was considered to have potential. I was still young and needed to be trained in the arts of 'entertainment'. Oh sure, they taught me a few other things as well, like throwing knifes, juggling, dancing and acrobatics. All useful in the 'career' they had envisioned for me. And I was a quick study too, eager to get away from the dirty bedpans and kitchen offal.
Then, barely of age, it was my grand opening night. They showed me off; my beauty and my skills, my perfection and my 'innocence'. Then, a bid was held. All hush-hush, of course. Only on a need-to-know basis, you know? Still, news of my particular 'talents' had traveled far and certainly among a certain circle of the rich. I fetched a fair price for my first 'night' on the town. More than fair.
The first years after, I spent in luxury. 'Suitors' came and went. I was an unparalleled success, every businessman's dream. I shared a certain measure of this wealth. I enjoyed fine clothes, good food, occasionally some nice company, once real love, even. Then, when the novelty wore off, my 'business' dwindled. They put me on sale and customers came cheap. A long and blurred period of my past, this, which I care not to remember.
And then, last year, it happened. One day I was fine -well, measured by their standards- and the next I was not. Dark spots had appeared on my once 'revered' skin. Just a few at first, which went away after awhile. Then more and more, in harder to conceal places. Before long I could no longer hide this awful truth; I was blemished and in a most unattractive fashion too. The spots came and went, apparently at random. Some thought I was possessed or of demonic stock, but when one day the spots stayed, I was considered rife with the Plague. And thus, with a kick to my back, I was thrown back in the gutter from whence I had came.
So, once I was Pearl, spotless white delicacy of Vehl's nightlife and the talk of the town, if you knew where to listen. Now, I was nothing. A sick cur, a thing not to be stepped on -preferably- lest I rubbed of something noxious on your shoe. I hid myself from view, surviving on scraps left behind by others. I expected to die at any moment. I shivered and hungered, I feared and I wept, yet I kept on living. My body grew thin and my mind emptied. All horrors and ills of the past just withered away. I grew still inside. And then, I looked upon myself and the spots had gone. It felt strange, a lightness come upon me, a feeling of being cut loose from all the world. I think I smiled, briefly.
So, what was I to do? Go back on my tracks? I had a good laugh at that. No, maybe I could fashion a new life for myself. No longer at the center of attention, but more at the fringe of things. Be modest, skimming the surface, unnoticed. Slip a few things here and there. Putting my few other talents at work, I found that I could and make an easy living.
After awhile the dark spots came back, and... went again. Over time, I have learned that my mood controls them. If I am on the brink of letting myself get too close to ordinary life, with its ties and attachments, they appear, only to disappear if I let go again of the warmth of others. Is it a warning sign, or stress-induced? Or perhaps I am cursed. I know not and no longer care, for it keeps me true. I have become quite adept at 'collecting', keeping myself well-maintained with some extra to spare. I felt it was time to leave Vehl and look for richer hunting grounds. You know, perhaps happiness is just a few coins away...
