Closed That Itch (Violet)

[Nevin Margaitis]

Herald's Arms
61st of Summer, 515 AV

Livi’s neck burned; a sure sign the entire citadel watched her, despite the fact that most of its inhabitants were outside its walls at the harbor, attending the swim competition. She tucked her chin to her chest, pulled the collar of her white shirt up as far as it would go and moved quickly through the corridors. Many times she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. Though twice she paused in her progress to hover in a corner and stare blankly at the whorls on the pads of her fingers when another came too close for her care.

The Herald’s Arms loomed in front of her, a dark stain consuming her, much like the one that marred her mother’s cheek. She didn’t have the guts to lift her eyes as she reached for the door, pulled it open and stepped inside with one long stride. Her back was slick with sweat by the time she made it in. The strong stench of sex riddled perfume filled her nostrils as she entered the smoke-laden room.

The services offered here had been something Livi had always avoided. Places like this were no place for people like her. She doubted there would ever be someone who catered to what she needed, but for some reason, her recent experiences had been weighing on her will. Ever since her run-in with Elann at the bazaar, she’d been over-thinking everything. She’d been finding herself lonely in ways she was bored with entertaining. Tonight was her chance to see the place for herself, once-and-for-all.

She scanned the tables scattered across the floor. Many were empty, as she’d hoped. Still, there were enough patrons at the rest to make her stomach do a flip. What she really wanted was a drink, but the bar seemed impossibly far away. Instead she decided to sit at the first free table inside the door, with her back to it. That way she could keep an eye on the men around her and hopefully no one who came in would recognize her. She leaned back against the chair and watched as women flocked to the men. All it took was a smile, a wink, or a gentle touch to get them upstairs. It would take far more than that to get Livi anywhere. She sat rigidly on the hard wooden chair, her hands clasped tightly on her lap, waiting for a server as she considered how much further she was willing to go with this insanity.

[Violet Y'laerth]

515 AV
61st of Summer

Violet's hand moved swiftly, the wide chopping blade rocking in swift, short strokes, the tip never leaving the surface of the cutting board as the metal edge effortlessly sliced through the bundle of leeks. She kept extremely good care of her knives, as much or even more so than a knight cares for his sword. When she confirmed employment at the Herald's Arms, she immediately went to the Bazaar to get a sharpening stone and a small scrap of leather. A sharp knife was essential to cooking; no respectable chef would work with dull knives. It was overwhelming being in such a massive market, almost frightening, yet exciting at the same time. Nearly everything she could ever want or dream of was available to buy, and more.

Violet scraped the chopped leeks into a bowl with the blunt side of her kitchen knife, tapping the far edge of the wooden dish with the blade to get the last of the remnants of leek off the knife. Violet hated leftover remnants; every morsel left behind, even on cooking implements, was a little less flavor, and when that flavor was a spice from a city several years travel away, flavor was immensely valuable. Violet set down the knife and board, grabbing a cloth towel to wipe her brow. She wore a ramie scarf as a bandana to keep her bangs out of her eyes, and hair out of the food, something else she had acquired at the bazaar after starting work.

She moved over to the table, fishing a key out of her apron to unlock her spice chest. She used to carry her spices with her to work and back home, but decided to splurge and bought a chest with a good lock, so she could leave them at the Herald's. Selecting 4 tiny jars, she sprinkled several varying amounts into a mortar bowl, grinding it up with the pestle, putting the spice jars back and locking it up before moving to chop up a few onions. Grabbing a frying pan, she tossed in the onions and spices, scraping out as much as possible from the mortar with her wooden spoon. Having grown up in an entire family and sect of cooks, Violet was used to the most elaborate and flavorful dishes, but her years travelling and actually purchasing spices for herself, she had learnt the real price of taste, as well as how to make it stretch while still providing a meal worthy of respect. Violet set the frying pan on a grate lying atop a tall brick fireplace with the towel wrapped around its handle, ensuring the handle wasn't over the pit, as she stirred the spiced onions with her spoon.

She went back to the table, starting to chop up some more vegetables while she waited a few seconds for the pan to heat up, and get some relief from the heat of the fire. As she heard the sizzling and smelt the onions, she quickly returned, the onions browned on one side as she stirred the spices around. Perhaps a bit too browned. Violet swore under her breath. She always messed up the onions. Having grown up in the north, Violet was completely overwhelmed at first by the heat. Summer itself was hard enough to handle, much less in a kitchen with a roaring open flame. She envied the server and barkeeper sometimes, though her love of cooking made it mostly worth it. She just wished they'd invest in an oven. Finishing up with the spiced onions, she scraped them into the same bowl with the leeks, finished chopping the remaining large pile of vegetables and tossed them all into a massive stock pot simmering with beef and stock, adding a dash of salt from a small bowl on the table.

Violet sighed as she sat on a stool by the table, taking a few moments to catch her breath and cool down again. The soup would take a while to simmer as the flavors cooked together. She washed up the bowls, cutting boards, knives and mortar in a nearby dish basin, laying the towel out on the table and setting the cleaned dishes down on it. One of the servers had recently fell ill, leaving them a little short-handed, so Violet was pulling double-duty today as both cook and waitress. It had been a bit rough at first, but it was rather quiet at the moment, especially with the swim competition going on. Most everyone would be buying food from the vendors at the waterside.

Violet dipped her cleaned spoon into the pot to take a taste. It was a simple recipe, one of the few she had done enough times to have memorized, but it tasted well enough. Thankfully the spices, as well as the flavor of the onions themselves were pretty much enough to cover up the flavor of burnt onion. Violet suspected, or hoped, at least, that the customers would be too distracted with watching the companions or too drunk to notice the subtle taste.

The sound of the front door closing reached Violet's ears, and she hurried out of the kitchen, a blast of hot air following after her, but as the doors closed she felt the cool air of the common area wash over her. She caught sight of the new patron just as he sat down at the table nearest the door, his back to it. She moved towards him, her towel still tucked into her apron spotted with a few spice and tomato stains. Not that she cared. If anything, being less appealing was a good thing, as it made the awkward conversation of what her occupation was, and, more importantly, wasn't, happen less frequently. Fortunately, the establishment owner, Nathan Louger, was very strict on boundaries when it came to non-entertainer employees and wasn't afraid to enforce consequences. Brothel or no, it was a respectable establishment, and Nathan worked hard to keep it that way.

Violet looked down at the young man sitting upright in the chair, seeing the apparent, and quite common nervousness in his stance, and putting on her best reassuring smile.
"Welcome to the Herald's Arms! I can get you something to eat if you wish, there's drinks served at the bar, and if you're looking for companionship, simply nod to one of the ladies or gentlemen with a green sash, or, if you feel more comfortable, you can wait and someone will come to you to see to your needs."