Jul 26, 2023 8:49:02 GMT
Post by Callisto Tengoku on Jul 26, 2023 8:49:02 GMT
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[attr="class","iwbtr-ly-1"]was i born to be
[attr="class","iwbtr-ly-2"]more?
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The Red Light District was a place infested by greed and lust; everyone who partook understood their place in this self-contained ecosystem, and each acted in accordance with their role. There were those who danced that line of libido, who played upon the tongues of their clientele, there were those who hooked the gullible into their schemes, with games that left their players in ruins, and there were those who offered the view beyond sobriety, who played amongst the community as its core pillars. Without the deeds of the plugs, the wax of the candle wouldn't be there to burn the night away, and the uninhibited passion of the night wouldn't sing the way it did.
[break][break]
Callisto, like many in this system, did not partake in his work for charity's sake. He did not keep the night alive out of the kindness of his heart, nor did he do so to indulge in its embrace himself — rather, his work was another factor in steadying himself in life's waves, maintaining the ship of home for his and his mother's lives. It wasn't his luck to revel in this aspect of the world. No, that wasn't quite it; it was more likely that fate never held such a thing in store for him. He could come close to it, even touch it, but never grasp it as others could.
[break][break]
Perhaps, though, these were excuses he made for himself. There was nothing truly standing in his way, after all; drop the familiar boundaries of subtle professionalism and he was more than capable of dancing the night away, just as he'd seen others do. He was sure he could even enjoy it, too, but what awaited him if he took that path? When he awoke the next morning, hungover and lying in bed with another man, what came next? Did he simply return to life prior, pretending that it never happened, or did he continue to become that person, devolving into nothing but a shallow imitation of his former self?
[break][break]
It was such that he maintained this distance, this invisible boundary. His responsibilities were far more important to his well-being and overall happiness than moments of passion, regardless of the settling feeling of monotony. Besides, his life was plenty exciting enough in this field as is, so why raise more troubles to busy himself with?
[break][break]
Callisto shuffled through the crowd, with his thoughts drifting off to such notions as he made his rounds. A buyer here, a junkie there — plenty who wanted to take their night from good to great; and, of course, Callisto was in no short supply to make those dreams a reality. Hands slipped between each other, with pockets never seen drawn from yet all the lighter, as he danced about his customers.
[break][break]
"Good night for ya," laughed one as he placed a bill in Cal's palm.
[break][break]
"Solid lad," went another, stowing away an offered baggie.
[break][break]
They weren't liars, at the very least. No, they were customers appreciative of a well-meaning businessman, who'd more willingly disparage his products if they failed to meet their expectations. But that was all they knew of him, in the end. They weren't aware of why he danced this line, of his past in this scene, nor the factors that brought him into their company. Neither he nor anyone else was anything more than a stranger to anyone else — everyone present was here of their own avarice, even if Callisto would never admit to his part in this game.
[break][break]
He wondered if others, too, complicated the matter.
The Red Light District was a place infested by greed and lust; everyone who partook understood their place in this self-contained ecosystem, and each acted in accordance with their role. There were those who danced that line of libido, who played upon the tongues of their clientele, there were those who hooked the gullible into their schemes, with games that left their players in ruins, and there were those who offered the view beyond sobriety, who played amongst the community as its core pillars. Without the deeds of the plugs, the wax of the candle wouldn't be there to burn the night away, and the uninhibited passion of the night wouldn't sing the way it did.
[break][break]
Callisto, like many in this system, did not partake in his work for charity's sake. He did not keep the night alive out of the kindness of his heart, nor did he do so to indulge in its embrace himself — rather, his work was another factor in steadying himself in life's waves, maintaining the ship of home for his and his mother's lives. It wasn't his luck to revel in this aspect of the world. No, that wasn't quite it; it was more likely that fate never held such a thing in store for him. He could come close to it, even touch it, but never grasp it as others could.
[break][break]
Perhaps, though, these were excuses he made for himself. There was nothing truly standing in his way, after all; drop the familiar boundaries of subtle professionalism and he was more than capable of dancing the night away, just as he'd seen others do. He was sure he could even enjoy it, too, but what awaited him if he took that path? When he awoke the next morning, hungover and lying in bed with another man, what came next? Did he simply return to life prior, pretending that it never happened, or did he continue to become that person, devolving into nothing but a shallow imitation of his former self?
[break][break]
It was such that he maintained this distance, this invisible boundary. His responsibilities were far more important to his well-being and overall happiness than moments of passion, regardless of the settling feeling of monotony. Besides, his life was plenty exciting enough in this field as is, so why raise more troubles to busy himself with?
[break][break]
Callisto shuffled through the crowd, with his thoughts drifting off to such notions as he made his rounds. A buyer here, a junkie there — plenty who wanted to take their night from good to great; and, of course, Callisto was in no short supply to make those dreams a reality. Hands slipped between each other, with pockets never seen drawn from yet all the lighter, as he danced about his customers.
[break][break]
"Good night for ya," laughed one as he placed a bill in Cal's palm.
[break][break]
"Solid lad," went another, stowing away an offered baggie.
[break][break]
They weren't liars, at the very least. No, they were customers appreciative of a well-meaning businessman, who'd more willingly disparage his products if they failed to meet their expectations. But that was all they knew of him, in the end. They weren't aware of why he danced this line, of his past in this scene, nor the factors that brought him into their company. Neither he nor anyone else was anything more than a stranger to anyone else — everyone present was here of their own avarice, even if Callisto would never admit to his part in this game.
[break][break]
He wondered if others, too, complicated the matter.
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[attr="class","iwbtr-credit"]SELKIE
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