Completed [Sacred Arch Hotsprings] Hope found in a Harlot (Isalie)

[Matthew]

13th of Summer, 513 AV. Memories flickered through his mind as he stared at the natural hot springs. He could remember the woman he had met here some many years before. He didn't think of her much, not being one for holding onto things that passed. Some of his customers were unique though, and imprinted their way onto his mind or body in some way. She was one of those, and this was the place that they had met many seasons before. Chewing his lower lip, he glanced around, soaking in the beauty of the hot springs as the sun slowly began to fall. He had timed his journey right, and was arriving just as the others were leaving, elders and children giving Matthew wide and satisfied smiles. His own aching body screamed for him to get into the steaming water, but he resisted for now, wanting to wait until he was alone before he dipped in. He went ahead and partially undressed though, removing tops and bottoms to leave his tanned and sculpted body in merely a pair of undershorts. He wasn't so sure if he would remove those, yet. It depended on how horribly hot the springs were going to be. It was beautiful out here. He always marveled at nature, never having grown up anywhere outside of civilization. He had been told it was hard to go enjoy the wild in this day and age, and had grown up believing that. On one of his journeys he had been shown the truth of it, attacked by desperate bandits who had been nearly killed by the wilds as well. He had made it out, but it had been a fresh reminder of what was out there. What could get him in the dark, in the trees, in the ruins of the Mizahar world. He took a breath, stepping forward towards the water, choosing to abandon those thoughts to focus on the here and now. Cool blue eyes flicked over the arch of stones, the waterfall pouring from the gap between the arch and short cliff. A pool had formed at the bottom, deep enough for multiple people to wade in. He slowly stepped up to that, peering at it cautiously, wondering if much had changed since he had last been here. After a moment, he knelt down, cupping the extremely warm water in aching hands and lifting it to pour over his dark hair. It streamed down his face and bare chest in little waterfalls, and he couldn't help but gasp, body shivering in delight as the water soothed away some of his smaller aches. He couldn't help but shiver again, in anticipation now, delighted body so very ready to feel his aches and pains go away. His job wore on him more than he thought it would, but he should have known. He had enough medical training to know what love-making did to the body, and what repeated rounds of it would continue to do.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

The springs were something new for Isalie; she had never ventured far into the city, nor had she ventured far this way. As a general rule, people would populate this area during the day, and Isalie made a point of avoiding crowds, whenever she could. Today, though, curiosity got the better of her. Se wanted to see what drew so many people here.

The ex-slave had left Shadow in the woods, tied to a tree and out of sight. Not that anyone would want to steal the damn thing, the girl thinks bitterly, [color=#a1754e]The horse is pathetic, weak, dying no less. It wasn't that Isalie hated her mount, on the contrary, she loved him. Since he had helped her to escape, he had been with her through everything. He was Isalie's only friend. And she was going to lose him. And she resented him for that.

"Stupid horse." She mutters darkly as she trudges along, trying to avoid any stings and pricks from the nettles in the undergrowth. "Why'd you have to go and be so stupid?" Suffice to say, the girl was very worried about her beloved horse.

On the edge of the woods, though, she pauses, glancing around to see how many people were around, and more importantly, how many Knights were around. The Gods were being merciful today, it seemed; there were no Knights. Stepping out, she walks a little further before she sees the springs. In the light of Syna, which was beginning to trickle away, leaving the sky to fade to purple and red, it looked beautiful, and a few chimes passed of the runaway just staring dumbly. To Isalie, standing at a distance, the waters seemed to shimmer and sparkle. Isalie didn't think that she had ever seen such brilliant blue water, and she was mesmerised. A smile creeps into the corners of her lips; she didn't think the world - where the lands were so harsh and the people not much better - could contain such beauty.

She continues to walk towards the springs, but freezes when she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. There, she saw someone, a man, by the springs. He was wetting his face. It wasn't the fact that he was there which had frozen the girl in her steps, though. It was his infallible, chiseled body that had her staring. In her time, she had seen only a few, and none so fine as the one crouched a few feet before her.

Time passes and she watches, just watches. The man seemed so calm, carefree, and confident. And the young woman wishes that she could do the same, be all those things, she wishes she could strip to basically nothing and be proud of herself. But there was nothing beautiful about her marred, imperfect body. A sigh escapes her lips; she would never be able to do that.

[Matthew]

The watching eyes went un-noticed, Matthew not being one who was completely aware of his surroundings. Especially now, when he was so very eager to get into the water that shimmered before him. So many people had told him about the medical benefits of constant bathing in the springs, and he was slowly growing to support that idea. The smell and shine of the place was intoxicating. He gingerly touched a toe to the water and let out a breathy sigh, the rest of his toes curling in delight. The water wasn't burning hot, and was instead a pleasantly warm tempature. Encouraged by this, the harlot slowly stepped in, more sighs escaping from his lips as he continued. Soon, he was in to his hips, little shivers constantly parading through his tired muscles. Taking his time, he slowly sat, lowering his body inch by inch into the welcoming liquid. He couldn't help but let out a moan that was nearly-erotic, the noise well-practiced throughout the years. It was an instinctive part of his facade now, and he almost didn't notice the pleasure of the water had made it slip out. He didn't even care, finally sitting down on the warm stone beneath the water, broad and tired shoulders stretching and rolling to work out some of the kinks. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back for a moment, simply focusing on the feel of the water assaulting his skin. It rolled a bit and then stilled, enveloping him, surrounding him in a theraputic warmth. Nibbling his lower lip in delight, he slowly opened his eyes and began to take in the scenery. It was gorgeous here. Trees loomed in every direction, forming a perfect shield for the natural rock formation of the springs. He felt safe so close to the city, and with so many assuring words that had told him this was a very safe place to be. His crystal eyes raised to the sky, and he stared at the setting daylight, impressed by the myrad amount of colors roaming through the darkening sky. He was usually busy or asleep at this point, and even if he wasn't, the sky wasn't something that existed within the towering walls of Syliras. His eyes drifted back down, a bit quickly this time, his head turning at the same time. By complete happenstance, he caught the girl staring, his eyes meeting hers. Time paused, but Matthew didn't seem bothered. He wasn't, and didn't even find it odd. He had designed himself to be looked at, and felt some small amount of pride that she had been looking. While she could be a murderer or stalker, that didn't cross his mind. That was a much more rare occurrance, or so one would hope. Instead, he offered her a polite smile and a small nod. His words spilled out, elegant and just loud enough for her to hear from her safe distance away. "Hello. I am Matthew." He furrowed his brow, tilting his head, another thought occurring to him. "Were you here first and I am interrupting your time?" He assumed she was much like him, having come here at this hour to avoid the crowds. Realizing he had taken a selfish seat in the very middle of the springs, he quickly rose, warm water falling in rivers from his defined lines. He stepped back, never once looking concerned with his almost-bare body and clinging undershorts. He didn't even seem to act like he was showing off, or attempting to seduce. There was a bit of the second with the way he looked, and the grace of his movements... but it was obviously not intentional. He just looked quiet and calm, moving to one side of the spring to provide her a large amount of room to herself. "I can leave if you expected privacy. I have had a good soak." He was lying, but he wouldn't complain if she did want him to go. Little things like this could build or kill a reputation, which was something he wanted to build. His voice remained polite and calm, his blue eyes never leaving hers, not for a single second.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Blue eyes meet blue, and they remain that way for some time, whilst the man, Matthew, was talking, a symphony of colour to rival the cerulean springs. There were many words Isalie could have used to describe him, but the first that came to her mind was beautiful. Pretty didn't cover it, made it sound like the attraction was transient, or partial. Now that he was looking at her, and she could see his face, the word seemed even more potent. Isalie had been around many men: men who had taken her, bedded her, used her. Ever since she had bled for the first time, her status in life meant that she could not refuse.

Some of them had even been attractive. But never had Isalie seen such perfection as this. The young woman had little education, and limited knowledge of the Gods. But if she had, she probably wouldn't have gone so far as to label his appearance as almost divine in her head.

The runaway slave resists the urge to drop her gaze to the floor, or to stare at a fixed point on the rocks over his left shoulder. In her past life, it was something she would never do; eye contact was rarely a privilege that Isalie had been permitted to have, and it had taken her a long time after she had escaped before she became used to the social niceties that everyone else took for granted as natural. And here, in front of her was a man who seemed to be the very essence of self control. Everything about him seemed to demand Isalie back away. But she doesn't.

"No, no." She says quickly, "Stay." her eyes widen at her free, embarrassing admission, and she takes a deep breath to compose herself again, desperate to keep her façade alive. "I mean... you were here first. Would... would you like me to leave?" Silently, she hopes the man will say no. Not because she wanted the Springs to herself, to the contrary, she'd rather see them used and, even if he wasn't there, Isalie was not going to risk another happening upon her and seeing her scar ridden body.

Not for the first time, Isalie wondered why she had even ventured over here; what had she possibly hoped to find. In recent days, the girl had had an internal debate raging away inside of her: whether or not she should head into the city in search of training, apprenticeship or employment. Her minimal lifestyle had been affecting her for a long time, now, and Isalie had had enough. But there was no way she would find what she was looking for here. She was wasting her time.

Taking a step back, the malnourished creature runs her coarse, filthy and bloodied fingers over one of the rocks beside her. Finally, she tears her gaze away from the man, to loot down at the surprisingly smooth, cool surface. It was soothing to the tips of her fingers, which seemed to be constantly aching or throbbing from touching a stinging plant, or a thorn.

Besides... she muses, he's probably an native, with more right to use them than a wandering urchin like me. "No, I was just looking, anyway." The young woman glance back up and smiles, though it doesn't reach the emotionless, almost vacant expression in her eyes.

[Matthew]

Now that he had spotted her, he took a little time to analyze her. She didn't really seem to be trying to hide, so he wasn't at all shameful about the way he looked at her. It was a coldly polite stare, with those blue orbs professionally running over her. They didn't stare at her like some of the men she was used to, like she was a piece of meat. They weren't admiring either, nor were they disguisted. They were simply looking. She wasn't in the best of shape. It was obvious to see, with her thin body that held markings of some sort, as well as her fingertips. Her hair was ratty and her face was drawn tight, as if she hadn't taken care of herself or hadn't been taken care of. Her clothes were hardly even that, noticably worn and ragged. Tilting his head, he filed it all away, annoyance already tugging at the edges of his mind. Not annoyance at her. Annoyance at her appearance. They were two very different things in his mind, and one of them he was very quickly wanting to fix. After a few moments of this mulling, he finally returned his gaze to her. Even with her timid appearance, she had still managed to hold eye contact. Just slightly, Matthew nodded, this small little thing something that was very important to him. Eye contact meant a lot to the man, and now that he was done studying her, he paid her the respect of once again holding her gaze. At her quick demand for him to stay he didn't twitch a muscle, but when she asked if he would rather her leave, he shook his head. "No. Your body could use a good soak. Why are you so thin? You look injured, and dirty. Are you well?" The questions were sudden, point-blank, and blunt. His tone didn't hold any sort of judgement, just pure and simple honest curiousity. It was the sort that expected her to respond in time. "Come in. Would you like me to clean your hair? No one should have to walk around feeling dirty." He said this quite simply as well, raising an eyebrow, patting the water in front of him to signal that she was welcome to approach it. He had actually combed hair many a time before, and not just his own. At her next words, he paused, the briefest bit of a smile flickering on the edge of his full lips. He was a professional, and he knew he was attractive. He knew he could be intimidating to some. Just by her appearance and actions, he had already noticed that she was a bit submissive. Shy, timid, withdrawn. They were all words that popped to mind whenever he looked at her. So, for her to take that step... it somehow made him feel proud of her. Taking a bit of knowledge from his daily career, he let a slightly playful smile cross his lips, the once-apathetic man taking on a normal expression. "Are you flirting with me?" Chuckling a bit, he lifted a toned arm, beckoning for her. "Come in, I insist now. Though I won't force you to sit through me combing you hair." He glanced at it, the desire apparent in his eyes. The man was bothered by dirt. It was probably obvious, seeing how pristine he obviously kept the rest of his appearance.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

If the situation the runaway slave finds herself in wasn't surreal and unusual enough for her, the man's quick-fire questions and statements were surely enough to make her even more uncomfortable than she already was. Not for the first time, Isalie fought the urge to bolt. Though she was sure it was against her better judgement; Nothing good can come of this, what are you still doing here?! Yet something was.

To say the man was insightful would have been insulting to the pair of them; anyone with some vision would be able to tell how filthy Isalie was, as well as how thin and malnourished she was. Of course she wasn't well. The slight girl doesn't deign to answer his questions, however. The man didn't need to know her like story; he didn't want to, nor did Isalie want to share it. If there was one thing worse than having people searching for her, it was having people pity her.

Subconsciously, Isalie scratches at her upper arm, remaining silent as he continues to talk, and even order her into the water. Her hand falls a little lower, fingers grasping at the sleeve of her old dress to cover her shoulder once more, but as soon as she lets go, the sleeve drops again, leaving her shoulder bare. It had been a very long time since she had received an imperative from anyone; she wasn't sure if she liked it. Biting down on her lower lip, she takes a deep breath, and counts to five. In her experience, Isalie assumes that a man who orders her to do something will not take kindly to her sharp tongue; her previous Master had threatened to cut it out numerous times.

"Thank you." She mumbles, pale blue eyes dropping from his own to stare at a rock somewhere just behind the man's calf. Gone was the fiery spirit she had been cultivating over the past few years. Gone was the individual who had had to develop a tough shell just to survive. Somehow, it was like she had regressed two years, back to the girl she was then. The girl who took anything given to her without complaint, even with a 'thank you' on occasion, just because she knew it would be pleasurable.

Once she had been that girl, and her Masters had kept her well fed in order that she could continue to be that person. Having lived a half life since then, not for the first time Isalie regretted running away. She had been captive, a slave, lower than the parasitic mites who lived off of the rats sharing her bed. But you were living, and had a future. Now? You might not even make it until tomorrow.

Shaking those thoughts from her head, she finally, hesitantly, steps over to the man, and to the springs. Raising her hand up to her hair, which she had previously tied up into a haphazard bun, using loose strands of her own hair to restrain it, she tussles it lightly, allowing it to loosen and fall down her back. Like this, her dark brown locks easily reached the curve of her back, though it was filthy, broken and weak.

Reaching the small pool, Isalie removes her stolen boots, crouches beside it and, taking a seat on the edge, dips her bare feet into the water. A sigh escapes her lips as she feels the hot water soothe her skin. Her ripped, oversized clothes, a stark contrast to her slim, boney figure, remain on for now. Still uncomfortable, she offers none of her own conversation.

[Matthew]

"No need to thank me. Most would find it insulting that I am demanding to wash them. Thank you for not responding with an aggressive snarl." He perked an eyebrow at her, noticing her sudden change in demeanor and trying to figure out what he should make of it. Her gaze had fallen and was now timid, and her entire body was screaming of nervous discomfort. Flicking his gaze over her scrawny figure, he noticed the spots of blood dotting her. Was she cut or injured somewhere, or was the blood just from her fingertips? He furrowed his brow, trying to puzzle it out. Was she on the run from something? Had she just done something horrible? He shifted in the water, the clear liquid bubbling and splashing around him as he tried to get comfortable. Everyone was a puzzle, and this girl was no different. "What is your name?" If she didn't want to offer it, he wouldn't be offended. It was just easier to assign a name to a face. If she didn't give one of her own, then he would assign an imagined one to her and then move on. She was slow in getting to the pool, and even when she got to it, the woman didn't really actually get in. Just just dangled her feet a bit and sat there. Raising an eyebrow, Matthew wondered if he should press the issue further. She wasn't running, so that was a good sign. But she hadn't answered his question, and wasn't trying to contribute to the conversation. Should he ignore her then? He didn't really have any true urge to figure out what she was doing here and why she looked the way that she did. No, that was a lie. He liked puzzles. She was a puzzle. Pressing his luck, he spoke further. "That isn't really in the pool. If you are looking to soothe your body, you at least need to get in so the water actually covers your body. Are you shy? Would you like me to turn while you undress yourself and wait until you are hidden once again by the water?" His questions were oddly apathetic. He didn't have any sort of amusement in his voice at her plight, nor did he seemed interested in the idea of her taking off her clothes. He was just presenting her with options, one after the other, hoping that she would respond well to multiple choice. "I live in Syliras. I am a prostitute there." He offered the simple details about himself, curious if it would help her make a connection. Help her open up. He sensed some sort of distrust in the air, though he couldn't put his finger on why. He hadn't done anything to make her suspicious of him, or not that he was aware of. There wasn't even anything to be suspicious of. His blue eyes searched for her own, then danced down over her, once again analyzing the creature in front of him. She seemed uncomfortable being here, but she had been firm in wanting him to stay. How curious. He arched back, stretching, his body rippling in an impressive display. He was graceful like a cat, all silky and smooth with his movements.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Pale blue eyes look away from the cerulean waters as the girl's gaze flickers over once more to meet the man's gaze. Her own eyebrow shoots up at the way he speaks to her, as well as what he says. She doesn't comment on the words, however, simply responding by crossing her arms over her torso to grab at the hem of her dress. Shifting a few times, she pulls it over her head without offering any warning to the man before she sinks properly into the pool.

Now, without the filthy material to cover her body, Matthew could see her properly for the first time. Her skin was naturally pale, though it had become tanned from spending so much of the season out of doors, under the sun, yet it appeared darker, due to the layers of mud left on her skin. There was little skin on her, however, and little flesh. She was clearly malnourished, but she wasn't on death's door, there was still a remaining attractiveness about her. Her breasts were not large, compared to many, but they were full, and firm. She covers them, supporting them as she sinks lower.

"Better?" The young woman asks sardonically, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. She was uncomfortable; exceedingly so, now that she was naked in front of this stranger. She dreaded to think what the man now thought of her; enough of her back and body was now on display to him, he could know what she was, or at least have an idea as to how her body became so marred. Isalie was embarrassed, humiliated by her past. Not only was she naked physically, but she felt it figuratively: and not the I'm about to get some action type of naked, it was the rip out your heart and piss on your soul kind.

This man, this... Matthew... could think anything he wanted, and could take anything he wanted, and Isalie had allowed it to happen, had out herself in this position. Despite this, she remained smiling, knowing how much a façade meant. Then the man offers an insight into his own life: A prostitute... the ex slave was surprised, initially. But, looking at him, knew that it made sense. There was... a certain allure about him, that made Isalie do things she might not normally do, which was why she was even in the pool.

Isalie couldn't help but associate her own life with his, the only difference was that he had made a choice about his lifestyle. Or he might not have. She winces visibly at the thought. "I'm sorry to hear that." She pauses, "I mean... do you like it? Is that what you want?" The questions she could have asked seemed endless to her, but she stops herself, still not entirely used to having the freedom of no speech restrictions, nor having anyone to talk to normally.

She turns away from him, exposing her back of him as a clear indication that he could wash her, should he please. "My name is Isalie." She finally says, as he had offered his own some chimes earlier.

[Matthew]

Her personality oddly shifted back and forth, from a natural sort of submissiveness to an almost defiant confidence. Narrowing his eyes briefly at the observation, he soon cast any questions aside and let his eyes roam her bared body. He was mechanical in his analysis, blue eyes flickering professionally from one locale to the next. He took in everything he could about her, stealing a quick examination of her chest before it was covered. The picture was slowly becoming a bit clearer, the more and more of herself she hesitantly revealed to the harlot. The lash marks and scars were something he was familar with. He had been lashed a few times himself by certain customers, though nothing so severe that it had caused actual scarring. He felt he had been hit pretty hard, too. He shuddered to think of how she must have been struck to recieve such prominent trophies. "Better." His response was short and sweet, her sardonic tone flying over his head. At her questions, he cast a curious glance at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. "No reason to apologize. I don't particularly like or dislike it, but it does remain interesting. Always a new puzzle. Always a new person to please in a new way." He paused, eyes locked on hers, his next reply hesitant. "I don't know what I want." The response was cryptic if anything, but he quickly moved on. Water fell down his lightly-bronzed definition, traveling the paths of his body as if he had designed himself that way. He stepped forward, once again all smooth grace, his seduction integrated into him so much that it was near second nature to use. He wasn't the best at it yet, but he was somewhat skilled. He only hoped to get better, and making it a basic part of himself would only help with that goal. "A pleasure to meet you, Isalie." Finally he was behind her, and he sat, this particular event reminding him of a similar one so long ago. Glancing over her body, he perused on how to begin with the task in front of him. She looked tender in various places, hard in others, and dirty all around. "I am going to touch you." It was a fair warning, something that he automatically and thoughtlessly gave. She seemed a bit twitchy anyways, so he didn't want to find her elbow in his face when he tried to move her around. Gentle fingers found her hips, and he found her surprisingly easy to adjust. His legs went out to either side of her, placing her between them and just a little bit in front of him. With her properly angled to do what he wished, he decided to start with her hair. He had untangled a lot of messy hair lately. He really should have looked into some sort of cosmetology career. Slightly saddened by the fact that he was about to dirty the crystal clear springs, he cupped a handful of it and slowly lifted. Giving her ample time to brace herself, he let the warm water drizzle into her dirty locks, slowly drenching little sections of them. Patient with his task, Matthew continued to cup water and pour, over and over again, until her hair was completely and fully soaked. Taking his sweet time with it, he slowly began to pick out the biggest of the knots with his fingers, being as careful and gentle as possible. He found himself pressing a bit close to her back, sensing that the physical touch would cause a bit of nervousness on her part. He wanted to break her of that though, wanted to make her a bit more comfortable with him. It would probably take some time, but it was worth a shot. His body lightly flexed against hers, reminding her of his warm presence, and he calmly just kept tugging away at what knots and dirt he could find. "Where did you get those scars? And why haven't you been eating?" Once again, he was forward and blunt with his questions. At least he was giving her a good couple of chimes between each short interrogation, instead of just blurting out all of his questions at once. And he had a lot of them.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Surprise was the next emotion that came to the girl, as she quietly allows her slight body to be manoeuvred to the man's liking and convenience. Why should she fight him on something so simple like this? He was offering her something that most Sylirans would not; treating her like an equal, of sorts. And even though he had practically ordered her into the waters, his washing of her was for her benefit, not his, and she was grateful.

She nods slowly as she listens to him talking, telling her about his work. For the first time since meeting him, she gets a sense of how cold and calculating the man really is. Everything about Matthew radiated warmth and compassion, but his words told a completely different story. Isalie herself, well she supposed herself to be the opposite; a cool exterior, but an internal fire burning to be cared for. She supposed, for his line of work though, he needed to maintain a certain distance from everyone around him, particularly his customers.

She closes her eyes, reminding herself not to fall into his trap. Clearly the man was a skilled actor, if her assumptions about his were correct. He'd have to be, to be successful, he'd have to make many women, and men, feel loved. No matter what he was doing with or to them. His voice breaks her out of her reverie and she responds, "That's fine..." she says softly. In the water, she was calm and soothed, and she could feel his chiseled body behind her, adding to the comfort.

A sigh of pleasure escapes her as she feels the hot water trickle down her back from the man's hands. As he soaks her hair in the water, she cups her own hands and fills them with water. Tilting her head forward, she rubs her hands over her face, hoping to clean some of the dirt herself. She watches with satisfaction as the droplets that return to the water appear distinctly more brown than previously. She then tilts her head back again. Every now and again, she winces in pain, sometimes even vocalising her discomfort. After everything she had been through, the girl had a relatively high threshold for pain, but she was not infallible.

The blunt questions don't floor her, this time. "How do you think I got them?" The young woman asks him in a low tone. For two years, she had managed to avoid every talking of such times, but with this man, she didnt think she'd get away with nothing. "I was... disobedient," the sarcasm drips from her words, "and what else is a Master to do with a disobedient slave?" She shakes her head, taking a deep breath as an effort to steel herself lest the walls, and her façade, drops.

She doesn't deign to answer his second question, however, thinking the answer too obvious to dignify speaking aloud. Glad that he couldn't see her face, she rolls her eyes. Weren't her clothes enough of a give away? Maybe the comment about her history would be enough instead. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, she says, "I'm sorry." As if she should feel guilty for running away and having no way of sustaining herself. Once again, she felt... rebuked by him, subordinate in some way, and she acted it.