[ P ] nectar of the gods

P

ower is an intoxicant greater than any wine. So many wolves live and die in the pursuit of it, and so many are depraved by it, the desire for it. It comes as no surprise this parliament is corrupt, at least according to the greying stranger. Some degree of corruption is unavoidable — it's the spirit of the game, after all. "So, what do you propose then? Kick them out, and place someone else in power?" Nyx surveys. A shadow of a smirk tugs at her lips. "Who is to say this someone will not be corrupt himself?"

In any case, someone must be on top and those that crave dominion all have a little bit of corruption within them, because they will take any measures necessary to ascend. In the fallen prince's view, it isn't necessarily a bad thing; it's simply lupine nature. To some degree, it's necessary, even. Nations need authority. Factions need direction. If wolves are left on their own without a leader, they will establish a pecking order amongst themselves.

The problem is the systems created by avaricious men designed to give themselves supremacy, like land ownership and arranged marriages and treating women like property, whether as their wives or their daughters or their whores. As long as a man sits on the throne, our fate as women will never improve, her mother had told her on that night she explained her reasons for slaying her own father. Thus, it was my duty to overthrow him. Your grandfather may have been one of the better ones, but he was still a man; and all men benefit from our oppression, whether they realize it or not.

The old queen's words still ring true. If things are to truly change for the better, then a woman must take the crown.

Her acquaintance's proposition to cure poverty is idealistic indeed. "If fewer resources go to the king, would the excess really go to those in need, or will the village leaders luxuriate in their new bounty?" The man said it himself. Greed corrupts men. A change in law will not alter this truth. It isn't only Parliament, everyone wants more for themselves.

“Even one unwilling lady or child is too many,” the grizzled wolf laments, and yet he is in full favor of an industry built on the backs of the unwilling. Pleasure is meant to be freely given and enjoyed for the sake of; when it is turned into a transaction, it is no longer freely given. Prostitutes don't want the intimacy, they want to be paid. Otherwise, they would only take the clients they find desirable. But of course, her acquaintance is a man.

"Righ’ now, brothel keepers do wha’ they like when they like it with nah oversight nor consequences," says the old man.

"And why do you think that is? Because it is outlawed? No. It is because noble men like their whores as much as any other man, so they're happy to look away from the abuse as long as they get what they want," Nyx retorts. It is illegal in Rionnach, is it not? So why are the brothel keepers being allowed to do as they please without consequence? Wouldn't one think they'd be getting arrested? The reason is obvious to her.

"Say what you will but fundamentally, brothel keepers see their women as property. Assets. Legalizing prostitution will not change this fact. What it will do is give them a good cover for what loathsome things they do behind the scenes; they are, after all, running a legitimate business." She finishes in a droll tone, that smirk of hers appearing once again. It quickly vanishes, and instead she squints and arches a brow in confusion as the man calls her a 'picaroon', whatever that means.

He can have his wine. Tempting, it is indeed, but she knows better than to accept random drinks from strange men, and she cannot say she is dying to converse much further with this one. It was certainly intellectually stimulating, but also a reminder of how she really does not enjoy male company. "As much as I'd love to sip good wine, I'm afraid I have somewhere I must be," the dark prince excuses herself, pushing the shell towards the man before rising from her seat and taking her leave.

// exeunt Nyx unless stopped

@Pan

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

“W

here thar be power, thar be corruption—always, poppet. Thar’s no escapin’ it. Ye put ye or I on the throne, and we’re bound t’ be corrupted, too.” Even Pan was not immune, and he would be the first to admit it. Those who desired to do good and would wield the fang to bring about that goodness and peace would find themselves descending into depravity eventually.

With her next comments, Pan chuckled. “That depends on who ye put in charge, don’t it?” He lapped up another sip of his wine. “Do ye think the bonnie King Adahm really knows what his people be needin’? ‘Course nah—he sit on his pretty throne, drinkin’ his fine wines, waited on hand and foot, and we can do nothing ‘bout it. A regional lord has a far better chance o’ knowin’ his people, walkin’ the lands, surveyin’ the needs o’ those who be servin’ directly beneath him and their families.”

Pan wondered if this woman enjoyed being contrary for the sake of it. “Aye, no two wits ‘bout that,” he said to her logic about corrupt men looking away from a crime. “Is that not me point? It is outlawed, and still women suffer—outlaw it all ye want, but so long as corrupt men exist, thar will be consequences for the little people.” He finished his shell of wine, savoring the smoky and tart tones of its rich body. “I want change,” he added. “What we do right now ain’t enough.”

“I don’t be disagreein’ with ye. I think we can both agree on that point.” They did not differ fundamentally on the morals, it seemed, at least not from Pan’s point of view—they disagreed on execution, and it might be best to let that argument settle for now. Politics were complicated. What further complicated them was when folks were not willing to chat.

The woman then excused herself, rather abruptly. He nearly laughed at how she reacted to his mimic of an insult. “Have a good night, poppet. Sorry ye can’t stay longer.” Pan shrugged as she exited, pulling the shell of wine closer to him with a paw. He would enjoy two drinks of his best wine tonight, and, truthfully, he was a little glad that it was not wasted.

Pan exits.

@Nyx

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck