Somewhere Someplace

“Take care now! Haha! See you…bunch…tomorrow!” so…attemptedly…cheered and spoke one of her managing peers, waving a sweet goodbye to the last patrons who finally departed the tavern. It was empty, devoid of patrons and customers, and it was messy and in ruin; everyone’s masks fell off.

“…I hate new year so much…” a peer lamented in exhaustion, her figure immediately tumbling down to a chair, lopsidedly sitting.

Even their superior commanding presence, the tavernkeeper, was exhausted. He yawned in grander, which caused her peers to yawn in a cascade which trickled to her…for she proceeded to yawn in kind; goodness…so contagious this impulse was.

The tavernkeeper, having tidied up his end of the tavern, immediately stepped out; putting on a Far Western coat of sorts, he made way for the door. “Well…I’m calling it, you two, tidy this place up for tomorrow…one extra silver will be added to your pay” he stated, pointing to the foreigner and another; “Anyway, I’m out” he waved a simple goodbye, departing the tavern with speed.

Tavern maids all around sighed in relief that they had not been selected for the late-night cleanup; they quickly made way to the staffroom to collect their things and leave, not really sociable but…still chatting somewhat among themselves, letting loose all their suppressed irritation from their long day.

“See you all, good luck!” so cordially said and waved one departing peer.

“I swear to Trinity in Heaven above, I will kick him in his manhood if that aborted bastard touches me like that again, pfft!” so complained one peer to another as they made way to depart through the main door.

“I know right! I mean, we’re maids, but we aren’t whores! Boss needs to actually…protect us and kick those gropers out, you know? Why do I even work for him… Pfft…seven measly silvers a week in this economy? Pfft…greedy tail-suckers aren’t tipping enough either, ugh” so replied the other.

“Honestly, being a peasant was easier…never had to work that much…and at least I never had to worry about rent!” so lamented another.

“Yeah…but at least you don’t have to worry about being raped to death by goblins, bandits, and…entire armies” so replied another.

“Eh…I’d rather die quickly in a village raid than endure a city siege…”

One by one, the ladies trickled out and away, the world outside calming as late night’s silence took hold, until left within the tavern were only she and her, both waiting for the others to clear out so that they could…actually begin their chores. “Well, let’s get this done, I guess…” her exhausted and overworked peer said mellowly, standing up.

“…you may…rest more, I can do the most; I am fine” the foreigner said cordially; “You look as if the…ehm…‘shit’ ” she added, observing.

“Oh I feel it as well… but you sure? At least let me…move the chairs to where they need to be” her peer replied.

The two began to tidy the messy tavern up, the foreigner wiping and cleaning away the tables and floor as her peer reorganized the chairs and…tables…and other relevant things.

“How much you get in tips today?” so asked in small-talk her peer.

“…ehm, I think…ten of the silvers…and seventy of the…copper-bronzes” the foreigner responded cordially but also rather…exhausted herself, her charm and pleasantry difficult to retain, flatness entering her voice.

Her peer groaned; “Copper and bronze… Wow, I sure love it when they tip us worthless nothing, ugh! Lady-groping bastards…” she complained…rather loudly; “You can’t even buy grain with that anymore! You need silvers for everything!”

“The only benefit is when they mistake the gold for the bronze” the foreigner replied in apparent humor.

Her peer chuckled; “Fertility’s sacred seed-bucket, that’s right alright… I just wish I’d be tipped a platinum by a drunken idiot; I’m surprised they haven’t confused a silver for one yet—wife-cheating morons, pfft” she replied.

“And, what of you?” the foreigner finally inquired, cleaning away at the floor.

“Bah…a coin-pouch full of worthless coins from a bygone era, that’s what–well…besides six silvers” she replied somewhat scoffingly; “Not even a thousand bronzes are worth a single silver anymore…and don’t get me started with copper! It’s so annoying! It’s not as though we need to actually live, you know!” she complained.

“…maybe they just want to… Hmm…what is the word? Oh, rightly…‘court’ you?…us, I mean” the foreigner replied.

“Yeah maybe… Just give us shit-coins in hopes we ladies get desperate enough to marry them…then we ‘don’t have to work’…besides caring for all the kids they’d want us to pop-out…” she replied, before sighing; “…honestly, I’m certain that actual children are easier to handle-manage than these drunken man-babies…less touchy too—or at least not touchy in that way…” she remarked.

-||-

The foreigner barged into her apartment, rather dramatically in a rare genuine display of affect. Her face was empty and flat, yet her soul and essence were relieved. « Ôh dolçissima finalitas… » her breaths faintly blurted out; oh, sweetest finality. Truly, what a day of labor it had been.

She looked around, peering. It was dark both outside and especially so within her apartment, for the sky was cloudy and obscured the bright atmosphered moon this night.

She yawned for the nth time this day, making way to her room, tossing her handbag…gently…to the corner as she entered. She hastily tossed off her heeled-boots and stripped down, not even bothering with placing her attire in the closet, before she hopped straight into her bed, becoming thoroughly assimilated with it.

She realized…in bed…oh, her mask was still on. She quickly took it off, placing it on a side-table near. Normally, she and those like her…tended to feel weird, uncomfortable, strange, and generally not-so-great when being without a mask.

She could differentiate and tell all the fine and minute details of a well-designed masquerade apart better than she could a true human face; masks were their faces, in a sense. However, with this mask…it mattered little; she had no attachment to or identification with it; there was nothing to read or say from it; it was even more devoid of meaning than her own…more convenient…true mask.

Her ignited eyes stared into the ceiling. Ever since she started sleeping regularly, her…entire being seemed to have adapted and changed around this schedule. No longer was she able to tolerate and endure…an absurd degree of hours of active labor, and she was beginning to realize this fact; this day had demonstrated such changes very thoroughly.

In just a year, she had changed in many ways…yet, fundamentally remained the same. Adaptive and plastic, far more so than most; so quick to change…yet also so quick to stagnate; so quick to adapt only to so quickly regress or maladapt.

She closed her eyes, her mind fading away into slumber’s obscurity. She still…had no idea what she was even doing anymore; though, truth be told, she stopped having any idea ages ago; they all had.

-|||-

“MASK!” so shouted in frustration the tavernkeeper, seeing the hastily readied foreigner stumble on in, who instantly froze from his accusative point; “TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES, GODS’ SACRED!” he lashed in lambast.

All the patrons and waitresses stared in silence, her peers looking away, turning red in secondhand embarrassment.

Indeed, the foreigner had overslept…quite so. She was…not accustomed to really waking herself up, truth be told. She relied…perhaps too much on her former associate to do such a thing. Her former associate had been the one who introduced her to…well, everything…but also this job specifically, and thus they would awaken together and would usually go as one.

Once again, she donned expressions and demeanor of shame, guilt, and sorrow as she approached the counter; “…struggle sleeping, I wake up late… I give sorry” she lamentingly responded, halting before it.

The tavernkeeper calmed, his angry red face fading, but his arms were crossed and his foot was tapping. “Fine, fine, listen: if you were anyone else, I would’ve fired you for this, but since I recognize your hard-workingness, I’ll give one more chance. But, come in late again, even a minute, and you are done, got it? I’ve been more lenient with you than anyone else” he stated assertively.

“Thus, it is so…sir” she responded, face down and evading eye contact.

“But I am cutting your pay for the next few weeks… Time is coin these days and wasted time is wasted coin” he stated; “Now, get to it” he ordained.

She nodded with a faint bow, before she immediately withdrew away; passing through the wooden door, she promptly shoved her bag into the wooden cubby-thing. She was not completely ignorant of the consequences of her…oversleeping, she just did not quite understand the…problem. She was not necessarily late in any meaningful sense, and she always made up for it by staying extra hours past closing. Time in general…tended to be something so easily…lost to her.

She departed the staffroom and into the tavern, which was even more packed at this early hour than it had been the day before…and especially than it had been the day before the day before. In fact, outside as she had walked or rather had…speeded to her job, denizens were flocking all around in droves, chanting and ganting and panting and banting—among a myriad of other such ‘-anting’ noises.

It was almost like there was a parade going on…well actually…there was a parade going on, but she had not the frameworks to really understand what a ‘parade’ truly was beyond just being…another form of local denizen weirdness and excessive noisemaking.

Truly, it was going to be a busy-busy day.