PM to join [House of Immortal Pleasures] Birds of a Feather (Irriari)

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

86th of Winter, 514 A.V.

Luc needed an escape.

It was very easy to come up with a full list of why he needed an escape. His troubles were not numerous, and were, in fact, extremely simple to understand. Problem #1: he was wanted dead by an unknown criminal mastermind that had made six attempts on his life so far and was nearly successful with half of them. Problem #2: daily he was greeted with threats of being disinherited from the Nitrozian estate - just last summer he had been cut off from his allowance! - and he was well aware of just how serious Sitanos Nitrozian intended those threats to be. Problem #3: he was swiftly running out of friends in this shithole of a city and found more enemies everyday. And finally, Problem #4: his life was a mess of drugs, alcohol, whores, violence, and the biggest tragedy was that nothing else but his vices made sense. Usually when Luc was confronted with a difficult problem, focusing on the particular components of the problem would give him some relief, or at least a plan of attack. He liked to analyze things, and when he could divorce his troubles from the stress they caused him and just focus on them as equations that needed solving, usually a solution would present itself.

But there was no solution for this, except dying. That would always solve his problems. Luc didn't want to die, though, so the only thing he could barter for was more time. And to get enough time to figure out his problems, and not succumb to overwhelming feelings of despair, he needed an escape. It was a simple process, one he had grown extremely accustomed to over the last three years.

Unfortunately, no escape could present itself. Something was always getting in the way of his attempts to enjoy himself, and tonight, it was the gods-be-damned thumping.

Thump. Thump. Bang! Crash! A final terrified squeal punctuated the chorus.

Groaning, Luc closed his eyes and tried to push the annoying sounds from his mind, but of course it was impossible. The more he tried to ignore them, the louder they got, coming from the room below him. The House of Immortal Pleasures was usually a nice retreat for him, a little quiet abode he could slip to whenever things got too stressful... but they also catered to all clients, and sometimes that meant putting up the thumping. And, usually, Luc would be alright with that, could understand the inconvenience... after all, he sometimes put girls and boys through a bit of a thumping too. He could comprehend the urge. But right now, the thumping was just too much for him to handle. Underneath his naked body, the whore continued to writhe and moan pleasurably, deciding to overlook the fact that he was getting soft and had slipped out of her. She was a new girl, fresh and inexperienced, eager to please with her fake sounds of pleasure and overwrought wriggles, hoping to get a fancy tip out of her rich customer. And, usually, Luc appreciated the extra effort, finding the attempts to put on a facade flattering. But as he was swiftly learning, nothing that was 'usual' applied right now.

The girl noticed that he had stopped thrusting, and frowned. "Are you alright, honey?" She cooed, placing a tender hand on his cheek.

In disgust, Luc pulled away. "No," he snarled, making the girl blanch. Shaking his head, the Nitrozian pushed himself off the bed and brushed himself off, wiping the woman's sweat from his skin. "I'm not alright. Why else would I be here? What kind of whore are you?" He shot a livid look at her before reaching for his breeches and belt, wincing as another bout of thumping came from below. Stupid bastards. Ruining my fun. Gonna talk some sense into them. The prostitute was silent as he put his breeches on, not bothering to comment on the numerous bruises that coated the Nitrozian's flesh. She hadn't asked about them when he first undressed, hadn't asked about them during - it was an unspoken law at the House that you didn't ask what your clients had been doing prior to entering the building. You didn't ask about their jobs, you didn't ask about their lives, you just lay back and spread your legs. That was a rule that Luc could usually enjoy having, but right now he felt... lonely. Wouldn't it be nice if someone just asked what a mess I was? Wouldn't that be swell?

Huffing, Luc stormed out of the room and into the hall, heading downstairs to confront the source of the thumping. It wasn't hard to figure out which room it was coming from - just as he arrived on the floor below, a piercing scream blasted out through the corridor. Gritting his teeth, the lawyer approached the door to the room and rapped on it twice sharply, raising his voice. "Look, you stupid vagik," he hissed. "Nobody else wants to hear your petching pillow talk! Keep it down!" Figuring that he wouldn't get anywhere with the door shut in his face, Luc rapped once more on the wood. "Look, open up! Come out here and talk to me."

[Irriari]

Irriari had been planning this night for the better part of a week. While her coin purse was dwindling, she saw no reason to save her mizas at the expense of losing out on the finer things in life. Namely, she missed the House of Immortal Pleasures. The building and the gauzy furniture that the owner had painstakingly chosen were of little concern to the zith. The primal side of her ached for the rhythm of a panicked heartbeat, the gasping breaths of prey that had tried to escape and failed, and the quivering that came with the realization that anyone could revel in such sadism. All these things were available, if one paid the price. Of course, Irriari knew that she would have to pay double what the humans did. Her rough handling of the girls that worked there limited her visiting hours to the end of the night. If the girl was still a broken mess by the time Irriari departed, the matron of the house could clean her up and send her home until the next night she was scheduled to work. Of course, there were limits on just how far she could damage them. Minor bruising was fine, gaping wounds were not. Psychological torment was also allowed, provided she didn’t bother the other patrons or break the girls to the point that they were no longer able to work. Thankfully, the types of girls that were drawn to work in the House of Immortal Pleasures were hardened to the world and the cruelties that were prevalent within it. Whether they were forced to work in the brothel by necessity or whether they simply enjoyed the line of work, one would be hard pressed to find a working girl that was delicate. At the end of a hard night, the girls of the house would console each other, count their mizas, drink a glass of wine, and fall asleep in a bed that was dry and comforting. They were not slaves, but Irriari doubted they saw their lives as anything but a cycle of bleak nights accompanied by meaningless days.

It was dark outside, and the zith knew that the House of Immortal Pleasures would only be open for two more bells at most. The majority of the patrons had visited earlier in the night. A few stumbled home to their wives, while the rest ended up at the Silver Sliver. Irriari made her way to the back of the first floor. The girl taking mizas at the front had given her a key for room 7A. It was at the far end of the hallway, flanked to the left and right with identical rooms. The lock stuck, but eventually the zith managed to find the correct sequence of turning the handle and pulling the door inward for it to open. Irriari dropped the key on the floor near the entranceway. The metal key reverberated as it hit the wooden floors. The zith took her time unbuckling the quiver that was strapped to her torso. The girl on the bed was already inching backwards in a vain hope that moving away would somehow distance her from the monster that had walked in the door. Surely the girl hadn’t been told she was there to please a zith. As the quiver hit the ground next to the key, Irriari pivoted on a clawed heel and appraised the girl that was sitting on the bed. Her hands were clasped together, knuckles paper white as she forced a smile to her lips. Loosely curled brunette hair cascaded down her back in a way that was meant to look effortless. Irriari had no doubt that she had spent a bell styling it to get it perfect. They all did similar things—they primped, preened and donned their laciest attire. Some hoped that they would be spirited away by a rich patron and others dolled themselves up as a form of escapism. The girls eyes scanned the floor, seeking her own form of escape. Zith were not known to be rich patrons. All of her work was for nothing. Again.

Surprisingly, the girl spoke. Her voice was timid, but she didn’t stutter.

“I don’t know what you want, but I’m sure I could please you.”

For a moment, Irriari was interested. She stepped forward and watched the girl’s demeanor change. Her clasped hands shook, and she quickly moved them to the bed, pressing them against the sheets as if she was smoothing them. The top of her foot was curled downward towards the floor at a painful angle. Did she really think that escape was possible? Irriari continued moving towards the girl, noting the tiny changes in her behavior. The girl spoke bravely but her behavior betrayed her. By the time Irriari placed her hand against the girl’s cheek, the harlot was breathing in a rapid tiny gasps. By Rhysol, she was trying to keep up her façade, but it was cracking all the same. No one could breathe like that for an extended period. It just wasn’t enough air. Irriari stroked the girl’s cheek lightly, marveling at the satin texture. The zith leaned in closer and looked into the girl’s deep green eyes. Irriari spoke, her voice carrying a hint of sympathy.

“You want to run, don’t you?”

The girl nodded quickly.

“They didn’t even tell you that I was coming did they?”

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Do you know what I want you to do for me? Do you know what zith enjoy? Surely you’ve heard stories. Tell me, and I’ll be nice to you.”

Irriari waited, and allowed the girl to catch her breath. She stroked the girl’s hair lightly and nodded. The zith waited for the single moment that she had grown to know too well. The human in front of her was filled with dissonance, unsure as to whether the stories she had heard about the zith were true. As she felt the tenseness ease out the girl’s shoulders, Irriari sat on the bed next to her. It took the girl two chimes to finally speak. A faint blush rose to her cheeks.

“They said that zith were all ferocious. They say you enslave humans and eat us. I’ve heard that you hunt in packs. But that can’t be true. You’re much kinder than what I expected. When you came in, I was so afraid. I thought you were going to hurt me.”

Irriari nodded and laughed lightly at the smile the girl wore. She was both proud and relieved. The zith continued stroking the girl’s hair and massaged her shoulders slightly until her heartbeat was finally calm. Irriari dragged her clawed fingertips up the girl’s neck. She shivered from the sensation, but she was too calm to panic. As far as a bell with a stranger went, this was one of the more preferable ways to earn a few mizas. Irriari tugged on the girl’s hair lightly, experimenting. Her heartbeat quickened for a moment until she realized that it hadn’t hurt. Irriari moved closer to the girl and tightened her grip on her hair slowly. By the time she realized that she was held immobile, it was too late. A small whimper escaped the girl’s lips, and her eyes widened in fear. Irriari’s voice cut through her panic.

“Look at me.”

The girl turned only half the distance needed. The vice grip on her hair prevented her from moving the rest of the way, and the zith laughed. If the girl had fought through the pain and moved the entire distance, she would have respected her. As ys, humans were all too weak when it came to pain. Irriari traced a clawed nail down the girl’s ex.osed back as she spoke:

“Everything you heard was true.”

The girl went perfectly still.

“Run.”

Irriari pushed the girl away to the side of the bed, and she scrambled to her feet and attempted to get out the door. She was too slow. Irriari blocked the door, grabbed the girl by her shoulders and threw her to the ground. A hint of adrenaline surged through the zith at the prospect of a new hunt. The girl pushed herself to her feet and ran to the far corner, trapping herself. The zith slapped her across the face, producing a beautiful scream of pain.

The hunt continued on for another ten bells before Irriari heard the sound of footsteps stomping through the corridor. The girl was a quivering mess on the bed and too scared to run anymore. It was a pity- she had paid for a full bell of fun and barely got half of that. A loud knock on the door echoed through the room. Reinvigorated, the girl looked up, hoping for a savior. The loud insults of a man left her wilting back onto the bed. The man demanded that Irriari come out and face him. Fine. The girl was useless anyways.

Irriari opened the door harshly and glared at the man standing outside of it before speaking.

“Are you going to stop me, human? I can see to it that you end up just like her.”

[Lucillus Nitrozian]

Lucillus Nitrozian

It was a rare moment when Lucillus Nitrozian had a chance to behold how truly stupid he was, but when it occurred, it was truly a sight to see.

In the tick immediately after the words, "Come out here and talk to me," left his mouth, Luc realized that he was stepping into some dangerous territory with no possibility of escape. He had no plan for what to do once that door opened up, no idea of what he was going to say when confronted by the face of the man - or woman - that had been giving the poor girl below a relentless beating. He might have been able to run away, had his feet not fastened themselves to the ground and his spine turn ice cold, refusing to move. Staring straight into the wooden door with a grimace fixed to his face, Luc cursed himself under his breath. Are you petching kidding me, you dumbass? You're seriously going to call out the person very likely to be taller and stronger than you for a showdown? What did you think was going to happen, they'd shut up because you asked them? This is a whorehouse, people come here to get away from public notice... intruding on someone's privacy is a quick way to lose a couple fingers. And if it did come down to a struggle, Luc wasn't going to win. He had left his knife upstairs, was dressed only in his silk breeches, and was guaranteed to be much scrawnier than whoever was inside the bedroom.

Understanding that he was most likely doomed, Luc steeled himself for what came next. As the door swung open, seemingly inches at a time to the panicked Nitrozian, he puffed out his chest, curled his fists, and prepared to start swinging at the -

Oh, petch me.

It was a zith.

There was a zith inside the room.

All he saw at first were wings. Wide, black as night, looking exactly like the wings that bore the species of his nightmares, they made his stomach turn and heart stop. Next he saw the hair, bright red, the colour of blood... this too gave him cause for panic. And then there was the fur, and the black eyes and the black claws and glaring expression - he would have started running had terror not paralyzed him below the waist. His eyes wide and clearly shocked, Luc gave a momentary glance into the interior of the room. He saw the girl on the bed, the poor, pathetic girl bundled into herself, bruised all over and weeping in fear. The Nitrozian might have felt some urge to rescue her from this monster had he not been thinking only of his own survival. What can I do? He thought, staring into the eyes of a creature he had taught to fear all his life. What can be done? Nothing. I'm dead. I'm dead because there's a zith in Ravok and it's staring right at me and it's pissed and it's going to kill me. He was only dimly aware of the zith's threat, too focused on his internal panicking to care.

I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead...

But if that was the case... then why did he feel so alive?

Like a bucket of cold water getting dropped onto him from above, Luc was suddenly aware of the electricity that shot through every nerve in his body. Every hair on his arm was standing, every inch of his skin prickling, every little movement the creature made gave him a new jolt of fear... it was exhilarating. The whore that he had just been with was unable to give him so much sensation - hell, he doubted that any whore in this place could make him feel this way! The truth dawning on him, Luc donned a savage grin that must have seemed confusing to the zith female. The reason that I didn't run wasn't that I was scared... I liked it. He had spent his whole life in Ravok and the shoreline of the lake, had spent every waking moment in the presence of humans and humanoid slaves, that being confronted with an actual monster gave him the sort of thrill that even the best drugs could not beat. Here was something truly dangerous! Here was something truly powerful! In that moment, the nightmare of the zith seemed more real to him than any other thing he had ever known in his life.

He had to get more.

He needed more.

Struggling to recover from the initial shock of coming face to face with an actual zith, Luc refocused his gaze and stared into her eyes. Rhysol be good, there's no mercy in them. No pity. "I'm - I'm not going to stop you," he responded, his voice shaky. Giving a quiet nod, the lawyer summoned all his willpower and brushed past the zith, unable to breathe as he did so, stepping deeper into the room. Once he was on the other side of the creature, Luc let out a quiet sigh and turned his back to her, looking instead at the quivering girl. "She's yours...?" He asked, his eyes trailing down the woman's battered form. I know the House has no remorse when it comes to good business, but... I can't believe they would just feed someone like this to a zith! Taking slow steps to the side of the bed, the lawyer reached out his hand and dragged it gently along the bloody covers. "You did quite a number on her," he murmured matter-of-factly, tone betraying little of his inner thoughts. When he finally came to the girl's side, Luc let out a quiet hum and brushed his hands sweetly across the whore's brow. Hopeful eyes turned to him, the thought of escape clear in the girl's mind... all she had to do was ask...

He could not hold himself back. Seizing on that terror that had brought him so much joy, Luc gave a sudden snarl and tightened his grip on the girl's hair, yanking her head back. The whore gave a surprised cry of pain, but he quickly snuffed her voice with a firm hand against her mouth. "Stay back," he directed at the zith, low and purposeful, trying to entrance the creature with an initial push of hypnotic power. His intent was clear; he tried to suggest to the creature that he was not just some weak human come to spoil her fun, but someone far stronger. Someone worthy of a challenge. He appealed to her baser instincts, making himself sound powerful and savage. All the while, his eyes were fixated on hers, hands tugging firmly on the brunette's hair. "You don't like this, right? Someone playing with your toys? Well, you know what?" He asked, twisting his grip and bringing forth another muffled scream. "You don't deserve a toy like this if you can't play nice with her. Obviously, you have no skill with this... no finesse... just beating and hitting like a simpleton. Look, you've already broke her! What a waste."

Pretending at disgust, Luc released his hold on the girl and let her collapse onto the bed, struggling for breath and pawing at her bloody scalp. "Get out of here," he growled, gesturing her over to the door. The whore only needed to give him a quick look before bounding for the exit, uncaring of whether a zith was in her way or not... frankly, a quick death would be better than more torture. Whether or not the zith prevented the girl from leaving, Luc stepped away from the bed and stood in the centre of the room, spreading his arms wide. "You want to have fun with someone? Try me. Let's see if you work your charms on someone tougher."