22nd of fall 516av ♦ evening
robern's reaches & the castle commons
“Vos?” His gruff inquiry struggled to penetrate the din of the brothel and his brow narrowed in consternation upon realising his dastardly counterpart was no longer in his company. Petching cunt. The bastard would slink off to treat himself while Ora did the work.
Begrudgingly, he pushed his empty mug away as he moved to vacate his barstool and braced himself against the thick, damp heat of the crowd he pressed into. He did his best to ignore the fresh pong of sweat, musk, perfume and tangy need, resisted the urge to close his eyes to shut out the memories of old they hearkened him back to and, instead, turned his focus fully on finding that bloody bastard cutpurse.
He had gotten nothing out of Brega or the staff that were in the know regarding Daggerhand business and he was ready to leave as that had been his only reason for coming here. It was painfully obvious that Vos had tagged along to sate his appetite for cunt. Ora grumbled at this; he wanted out and as soon as possible. The brothel had never been his choice haunt due to his all too painful familiarity with the industry. Moreover, he was a simple man keen to get on with his job and move on to the Pig's Foot to see if Merv knew anything about the debtor he was after or the job he was meant to do with his wayward companion.
Straining to peer through the sea of bodies that filled the bustling brothel, he tried again, “Dira's cunt, Vos, ya petchin'-”
His words were cut short as he felt a warm hand weasel its way up his shirt.
“Awe, c'mon darl. What's the rush? Vossy's just getting his kicks is all.” Tissi's sugary words mirrored her hand, snaking their way up and into his ear.
He froze for a moment, muscles tightening as he resisted the urge to jerk away, casting her a warning look.
She ventured on, disregarding his surly glare as she leaned into him, oozing practised confidence as her thumb dragged playfully across the sparse chest hair his loosely done shirt exposed “Y'now, it wouldn't hurt ya to let one of us take care o' ya sumtime - ”
He missed the teasing smile she gave him, attention back on the motley of bodies that were milling around him, desperate to find his lowly counterpart.
“- let us loosen ya up.” Her lips split into a cheeky, toothy smirk as her small hand slipped into his shirt, emphasising her words by trying to give his body a shake. His bulk barely budged save for his shoulders which gave a small sway.
“Piss off, Tis.” He growled with a sniff as he scratched roughly – unconsciously – at the back of his off-hand, visibly in no mood for this shyke. He waved that hand to fend hers away which she wisely dropped.
The squat, sparsely dressed woman took enough of a step back to put the necessary space between them that she knew he was comfortable with and folded her arms across her full chest, visibly offended. She wasn't going to push him, she wasn't that daft.
“Where's 'e at, Tis?” Ever flat, his tone brokered no argument.
“Up there wi' half the girls, mos' like.” Her words were equally curt but, spying the twitch of his nose as it flared and the flex of his jaw, she had second thoughts and changed her tone, words lightening as she tried to excuse what she said, “Y'know how he is when he's 'ere, Ora. Thinks he's a king entitled t' all our cunts withou' payin' cuz he got that bloody ink on 'is arm.”
He stared blankly at her for a tick, a furrow forming between his dark brows and she shifted uncomfortably, ready to prattle on more when he interjected dryly, “And what is Ora s'pose to do bout that, uh?”
It was Tissi's turn to stand there, staring, the air between them growing increasingly more uncomfortable by the chime as she visibly contemplating her next move. She frowned, shrugged and motioned with a tip of her head to the spiral staircase towards the back of the commons they stood in, voice losing its pluckiness, “Narvna's got 'im.” Then, adding, as if it was worth him knowing, “Pretty sure Rikke's with 'em, too.”
Ora didn't care to know as evident by the sneer on his freckled lips. She was missing the point and his patience was wearing thin.“What room, Tis.”
Noting this, she pursed her lips and tightened her arms across her chest, kohl-smudged eyes shying away, as she sighed “Third one once you're up there.”
Her bravado returned once his back was turned, calling out to his stocky form as he ploughed a path through the merry-makers, “Wouldn't hurt ya t'be friendly once'n a while. Maybe one a' us wouldn't mind bein' more helpful, ya ken? And I don't mean by givin' yer pecker a tug!” Garnering no response, she called out a little louder, rocking up onto her tiptoes as if that might help, “A thank you woulda been nice!”
Begrudgingly, he pushed his empty mug away as he moved to vacate his barstool and braced himself against the thick, damp heat of the crowd he pressed into. He did his best to ignore the fresh pong of sweat, musk, perfume and tangy need, resisted the urge to close his eyes to shut out the memories of old they hearkened him back to and, instead, turned his focus fully on finding that bloody bastard cutpurse.
He had gotten nothing out of Brega or the staff that were in the know regarding Daggerhand business and he was ready to leave as that had been his only reason for coming here. It was painfully obvious that Vos had tagged along to sate his appetite for cunt. Ora grumbled at this; he wanted out and as soon as possible. The brothel had never been his choice haunt due to his all too painful familiarity with the industry. Moreover, he was a simple man keen to get on with his job and move on to the Pig's Foot to see if Merv knew anything about the debtor he was after or the job he was meant to do with his wayward companion.
Straining to peer through the sea of bodies that filled the bustling brothel, he tried again, “Dira's cunt, Vos, ya petchin'-”
His words were cut short as he felt a warm hand weasel its way up his shirt.
“Awe, c'mon darl. What's the rush? Vossy's just getting his kicks is all.” Tissi's sugary words mirrored her hand, snaking their way up and into his ear.
He froze for a moment, muscles tightening as he resisted the urge to jerk away, casting her a warning look.
She ventured on, disregarding his surly glare as she leaned into him, oozing practised confidence as her thumb dragged playfully across the sparse chest hair his loosely done shirt exposed “Y'now, it wouldn't hurt ya to let one of us take care o' ya sumtime - ”
He missed the teasing smile she gave him, attention back on the motley of bodies that were milling around him, desperate to find his lowly counterpart.
“- let us loosen ya up.” Her lips split into a cheeky, toothy smirk as her small hand slipped into his shirt, emphasising her words by trying to give his body a shake. His bulk barely budged save for his shoulders which gave a small sway.
“Piss off, Tis.” He growled with a sniff as he scratched roughly – unconsciously – at the back of his off-hand, visibly in no mood for this shyke. He waved that hand to fend hers away which she wisely dropped.
The squat, sparsely dressed woman took enough of a step back to put the necessary space between them that she knew he was comfortable with and folded her arms across her full chest, visibly offended. She wasn't going to push him, she wasn't that daft.
“Where's 'e at, Tis?” Ever flat, his tone brokered no argument.
“Up there wi' half the girls, mos' like.” Her words were equally curt but, spying the twitch of his nose as it flared and the flex of his jaw, she had second thoughts and changed her tone, words lightening as she tried to excuse what she said, “Y'know how he is when he's 'ere, Ora. Thinks he's a king entitled t' all our cunts withou' payin' cuz he got that bloody ink on 'is arm.”
He stared blankly at her for a tick, a furrow forming between his dark brows and she shifted uncomfortably, ready to prattle on more when he interjected dryly, “And what is Ora s'pose to do bout that, uh?”
It was Tissi's turn to stand there, staring, the air between them growing increasingly more uncomfortable by the chime as she visibly contemplating her next move. She frowned, shrugged and motioned with a tip of her head to the spiral staircase towards the back of the commons they stood in, voice losing its pluckiness, “Narvna's got 'im.” Then, adding, as if it was worth him knowing, “Pretty sure Rikke's with 'em, too.”
Ora didn't care to know as evident by the sneer on his freckled lips. She was missing the point and his patience was wearing thin.“What room, Tis.”
Noting this, she pursed her lips and tightened her arms across her chest, kohl-smudged eyes shying away, as she sighed “Third one once you're up there.”
Her bravado returned once his back was turned, calling out to his stocky form as he ploughed a path through the merry-makers, “Wouldn't hurt ya t'be friendly once'n a while. Maybe one a' us wouldn't mind bein' more helpful, ya ken? And I don't mean by givin' yer pecker a tug!” Garnering no response, she called out a little louder, rocking up onto her tiptoes as if that might help, “A thank you woulda been nice!”
~ c ~
