#a debt

Heart pounding, Arya managed the tiniest of nods. Jaqen H'ghar took his hand away. The caller was black as pitch and she could not see his face, even inches away. She could smell him, though, his skin smelled clean and soapy, and he had scented his hair.

"A boy becomes a girl," he murmured.

"I was always a girl. I didn't think you saw me."

"A man sees. A man knows."

She remembered that she hated him. "You scared me. You're one of them now, I should have let you burn. What are you doing here? Go away or I'll yell for Weese."

"A man pays his debts. A man owes three."

"Three?"

"The Red God has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life. This girl took three that were his. This girl must give three in their places. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest."

He wants to help me, Arya realized with a rush of hope that made her dizzy. "Take me to Riverrun, it's not far, if we stole some horses we could---"

He laid a finger on her lips. "Three lives you shall have of me. No more, no less. Three and we are done. So a girl must ponder." He kissed her hair softly. "But not too long."

“Well, hurry up. You know how Lady Brightstar feels when people arrive after she has shoved that damn golden spoon of hers into her fat mouth.” The sindorei stepped toward the door as he placed his red gloves on. He took one last glance in the large, wall-sized mirror and fixed his blonde hair, pulling back a few lingering strands around his ear. He was a smug looking noble, as most were, but he lacked patience and in the eyes of many in the noble community, class. Nonetheless, his was a family of money prior to the fall of Silvermoon, and therefore, accepted among the nobles. Lord Werrin Dawnfury, possibly a distant relative to many of the Dawnfuries in the city, but not one of notable repute. 

“Dear, it is Lady Brightdawn, not Brightstar, and it’s not my fault the servant brought our clothes late. I’ll just have to get rid of her when we get back.”

“She was a waste of air anyway. Hurry up, Olieda!” Werrin grabbed his cane and stood perfectly still for a good five seconds before he sighed dramatically and looked in the mirror once more. He looked older than what he was, but he smirked at the dignified way his expensive clothes and items around him made him appear. His eyes lingered to a small dedication along the bottom of the golden mirror:

Lord and Lady Dawnfury, for their dedication to the children of Silvermoon

He scoffed at the plaque and took a small vial from inside his robe. Opening it, took a tiny scoop of dust and lifted it up to his nose. “Fuck the children,” he muttered and snorted the dust. He closed his eyes as he rubbed his nose a bit and sealed the vial, exhaling with an exaggerated widened mouth before he took another breath and opened his eyes. He liked what he saw: a dignified man who was a “hero of Silvermoon” because he knew the right people and dealt with the right villains. 

“Olieda, I’ll be outside. This is ridiculous! You’re taking forever!” He watched himself once more as he spun toward the door, his blond hair following behind him. As soon as he opened the door, he stopped and gasped. Not one foot had stepped from behind the doorframe when he noticed a man standing in front of him, wearing a violet pinstripe suit and a large hat covering his face. He stood posing with his legs slightly widened and his hands resting on a cane placed in front of him. Werrin’s eyes narrowed. “Get off my property. We have no business tonight,” he growled through gritted teeth. He knew the man, or rather, the undead man, and while he was firm with his demand, his insides felt as if they were melting. 

The undead man’s hat slowly moved upward, revealing two glowing orbs behind rose-tinted glasses. A smile sat comfortably on his face. Werrin stared at the man’s eyes and exhaled quietly in relief. Blue eyes were not good, that much he knew, so he wasn’t in trouble. “You’re absolutely right, Werrin. We do not have business tonight…”

“But we do.” 

Werrin’s fel green eyes widened upon hearing the voice beside him. He hadn’t heard the voice before, but it came at him with a cold, menacing sound that he didn’t have to hear the voice before to know whose it was. The noble slowly turned and saw a man dressed in a black suit. There was a black leather mask on his face in the shape of a rat and blonde strands of hair peeking over the leather. The mask slowly turned to look Werrin, green eyes glaring back at him. “I would close the door if I were you. We wouldn’t want you to be a widow, now would we?” the masked figure spoke softly.

Werrin reached back for the handle and he gulped loudly as he closed the door. He noticed the undead man walk closer to him and he backed against the door. “I don’t have any business with you tonight. I-I don’t understand.”

The masked man canted his head to the side and then to the other, and Werrin could hear a chuckle echo within the mask. “Tell him.”

The undead man drew a small notebook from within his jacket and made his cane stand alone as he pulled the red ribbon from the book to the exact page he needed to be. “Two hundred thousand in gold. Due a two weeks ago. Your excuse: I have a charity event to attend, but you’ll have your money tomorrow.” The undead looked up at Werrin. “Tomorrow was two weeks ago.” He snapped the little book shut.

“I’d say I was extremely generous by giving you two weeks.” The masked man’s body turned toward Werrin, pushing away from the wall. “I’m a sensible man. You have money. My money. Hand it over.”

“I…I don’t have it. I mean, i do, but right now is not a good time.” He looked back at the door he was leaning against. His wife was about to walk out any moment. “Come tomorrow…tomorrow I…”

The masked man grumbled under the mask and the undead reached out to turn out the nearby  lights. As soon as it turned dark around the home, the masked man lifted his mask, reached out for Werrin’s throat, and stared at his face, noses less than an inch away. “You won’t have any more tomorrows, fucker,” the blond man whispered hoarsely. “See, I don’t do this. This here? I don’t collect because those who make deals with my Kingdom pay on time and if they don’t, he finishes the job,” he said, gesturing to the undead man. “But you, you’re a noble; a man of high repute, who has been honored for feeding the children and who visits the whores at my bordello whenever he needs a fuck. For your kind, you better believe I’ll be there to finish the job. I bet your heart tastes so tender because it is soft and weak. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum,” he muttered, tapping the man’s chest. 

“I…I can get…let me go get it…”

“I’m tired of waiting.” The blond man squeezed his throat tighter and Werrin’s eyes widened as the small sharp object in the blond man’s grip punctured his skin. As the man’s hand slid across Werrin’s throat, warm blood began to spill out over his red and golden outfit. Werrin slumped against the door and the undead’s eyes began to glow blue. He extended his hand out and a portal opened beneath the noble. He fell through and down into the Rat Kingdom, where the Ratz would swarm the noble’s body as soon as it hit the ground.

The front door opened and a woman stepped out. “Werrin?” she called out into the darkness. A cold hand reached for her hand and someone leaned down to kiss it with cold lips. “He’s gone, ma’am,” a gentle voice said, and soon, he was gone too. Olieda pulled her hand back and she gasped. 

“I’d sought death and was rewarded with far worse a fate: the rebirth of my soul, for the rest of time, all my sins shackled to its core.”

-Excerpt from  A Debt, by @cow-very-punk-of-u

He wasn’t weak, and how dare she believe he was, and how dare he act like he was. […] He bit his tongue, he clenched his fists at his sides: an act of defiance. Not cruelty, not revolution-- defiance, a fist at his side

-Excerpt from A Debt, by @cow-very-punk-of-u

What he wanted was a silence so heavy it could swallow him whole: the sort he’d known under the mountain. Where he could hear his own heart beat if he listened hard enough, and if he reached out, he might feel another’s heartbeat under his fingertips

-Excerpt from A Debt, by @cow-very-punk-of-u

All she was, it seemed, was energy, vibrating, blood screaming against her skull and muscles alight with her magic. It swelled against her skin, driving her forwards, answering her rage, a release of all the things she’d held back. Ashes rose to her vision when she blinked, a memory that was not her own leaving sand scarring her face when she paused for too long 

- Excerpt from A Debt, by @cow-very-punk-of-u

The Debt Ceiling Deadline Has Passed, And Now The Biggest Test Of Donald Trump’s Presidency Begins…

By Michael Snyder

Economic Collapse Blog

March 18, 2017

  The Debt Ceiling Deadline Has Passed, And Now The Biggest Test Of Donald Trump’s Presidency Begins…

      On Wednesday, the temporary suspension of the debt ceiling ended, and so now the federal government is not going to be able to go into any more debt until the debt ceiling is raised.  For the moment, the Trump administration can…