78, Fall 519 AV
This was a dumb idea. Normal people don’t try to do things like this.
Normal people already know how to read, idiot.
The walk from the Commons to the Reaches wasn’t too particularly difficult; just follow the Mudway up. It was the constant self-doubt and self-recrimination―gnawing at him the whole walk―that made it a good deal more difficult. He’d had a perfectly good schoolhouse to learn from when he was a boy, but did he? No. He went out and did dumb shyke by himself instead. Was climbing helpful in his day to day life now? Not even remotely. Would the ability to read and write be useful? Petching yeah it would.
Even if he could forgive himself for being an idiot kid, he’d had years in Syliras as an adult to fix his problem. Compared to Sunberth, Syliras had been a safe haven. Baelin had just been too blind to see it. Compared to the serenity of Black Rock, things in Syliras had seemed so much riskier. Again: idiot.
And now he was in Sunberth. Where there was no schoolhouse, no tutors that Baelin knew of, and just no good, obvious way to fix his problem. If he was a child, he imagined he could find something. But as a grown man, Baelin wasn’t about to just drop in to the orphanage and beg for a lesson. Even if they’d allow it, Baelin just couldn’t wrap his head around actually doing it. And the library they had here? Just the thought of going in it and hassling the librarian for a one on one was enough to make him want to strangle something. Just no.
However… while he might not know of a way to get an actual writing tutor, he did know of a way to pay for someone’s time. Which was why he was now walking up the northern fork of the Mudway, entering a part of Sunberth that he’d not bothered spending time in before. Because here, in the Reach, was Brega’s.
A full three-stories, it was one of the tallest buildings in Sunberth and hard to miss. As Baelin approached it, he couldn’t help but feel like he was walking into a trap. It looked as rundown as the rest of Sunberth, and he could practically feel thugs watching him as he walked. But, trap or no, he was going to do this. He’d spent a lifetime using every excuse under the sun to not do this, and so now no excuse would stop him. Shyke, someone could stand on the roof of the brothel and scream down It’s a trap! and Baelin would still walk in. This. Was. Happening.
He patted his waist, checking for the umpteenth time that the sheet of parchment and small bundle of charcoal sticks he’d purchased on the way here were still there. And they were. No excuses.
Pulling in a deep breath, Baelin pushed open the front door.
An explosion of red bombarded his senses. Tapestries draped the walls, gaudy couches were haphazardly arranged around the massive room, and people filled the space. Some were sprawled on the couches, wearing very little clothing. Several of them turned to the door to flashed him a smile. Others were scattered around the room, considerably more dressed and armed with blunt weapons.
“Welcome to Brega’s!” A young man sitting close to the entrance hailed him, his grin wide and welcoming. Baelin blinked at him, not quite processing the outfit the guy was wearing. “Can I help you with anything?” Were those…just tight pants with the ass cut out?
Nope. He couldn’t do this. Baelin turned on his heel and moved to walk right back out. And then froze on the spot when he heard a quick flurry of footsteps behind him, defensive instinct halting his exit as he braced for whatever was coming. But all that happened was a light touch on his elbow, and a gentle tug for him to turn back around. Stiff as a board, Baelin complied.
Her eyes and cheeks accentuated with kohl, full limps painted a soft shade to compliment her bronze skin, and short, black hair neatly brushed out… She was beautiful. “Hey, now,” she purred, stepping in close, “Don’t be shy. C’mon.” She gave his arm another little tug, almost playful, and smiled, “Let me show you a good time.”
Baelin let her pull him further into the room, not daring to speak, parchment and charcoal momentarily forgotten as she led him back towards a spiral staircase, Baelin could barely even form a coherent thought as he followed her. She too was barely dressed, but her exposed skin felt more like a welcome than anything unsettling. A short top that hung loose above her belly, held up by nothing more than thin straps; it showed off the curves of her back and the soft tone of her abdominals. Baelin found himself wondering if how many sit ups she could do, before pulling back from that line of thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, Baelin saw the guy that had greeted him roll his eyes, but Baelin paid him no mind. He and his exposed butt could stay right over there, where Baelin wouldn’t have to deal with it.
“You can call me Rose,” the woman said over her shoulder, still leading him in a more or less direct path to the staircase, “What kind of good time are you looking for?”
This was a dumb idea. Normal people don’t try to do things like this.
Normal people already know how to read, idiot.
The walk from the Commons to the Reaches wasn’t too particularly difficult; just follow the Mudway up. It was the constant self-doubt and self-recrimination―gnawing at him the whole walk―that made it a good deal more difficult. He’d had a perfectly good schoolhouse to learn from when he was a boy, but did he? No. He went out and did dumb shyke by himself instead. Was climbing helpful in his day to day life now? Not even remotely. Would the ability to read and write be useful? Petching yeah it would.
Even if he could forgive himself for being an idiot kid, he’d had years in Syliras as an adult to fix his problem. Compared to Sunberth, Syliras had been a safe haven. Baelin had just been too blind to see it. Compared to the serenity of Black Rock, things in Syliras had seemed so much riskier. Again: idiot.
And now he was in Sunberth. Where there was no schoolhouse, no tutors that Baelin knew of, and just no good, obvious way to fix his problem. If he was a child, he imagined he could find something. But as a grown man, Baelin wasn’t about to just drop in to the orphanage and beg for a lesson. Even if they’d allow it, Baelin just couldn’t wrap his head around actually doing it. And the library they had here? Just the thought of going in it and hassling the librarian for a one on one was enough to make him want to strangle something. Just no.
However… while he might not know of a way to get an actual writing tutor, he did know of a way to pay for someone’s time. Which was why he was now walking up the northern fork of the Mudway, entering a part of Sunberth that he’d not bothered spending time in before. Because here, in the Reach, was Brega’s.
A full three-stories, it was one of the tallest buildings in Sunberth and hard to miss. As Baelin approached it, he couldn’t help but feel like he was walking into a trap. It looked as rundown as the rest of Sunberth, and he could practically feel thugs watching him as he walked. But, trap or no, he was going to do this. He’d spent a lifetime using every excuse under the sun to not do this, and so now no excuse would stop him. Shyke, someone could stand on the roof of the brothel and scream down It’s a trap! and Baelin would still walk in. This. Was. Happening.
He patted his waist, checking for the umpteenth time that the sheet of parchment and small bundle of charcoal sticks he’d purchased on the way here were still there. And they were. No excuses.
Pulling in a deep breath, Baelin pushed open the front door.
An explosion of red bombarded his senses. Tapestries draped the walls, gaudy couches were haphazardly arranged around the massive room, and people filled the space. Some were sprawled on the couches, wearing very little clothing. Several of them turned to the door to flashed him a smile. Others were scattered around the room, considerably more dressed and armed with blunt weapons.
“Welcome to Brega’s!” A young man sitting close to the entrance hailed him, his grin wide and welcoming. Baelin blinked at him, not quite processing the outfit the guy was wearing. “Can I help you with anything?” Were those…just tight pants with the ass cut out?
Nope. He couldn’t do this. Baelin turned on his heel and moved to walk right back out. And then froze on the spot when he heard a quick flurry of footsteps behind him, defensive instinct halting his exit as he braced for whatever was coming. But all that happened was a light touch on his elbow, and a gentle tug for him to turn back around. Stiff as a board, Baelin complied.
Her eyes and cheeks accentuated with kohl, full limps painted a soft shade to compliment her bronze skin, and short, black hair neatly brushed out… She was beautiful. “Hey, now,” she purred, stepping in close, “Don’t be shy. C’mon.” She gave his arm another little tug, almost playful, and smiled, “Let me show you a good time.”
Baelin let her pull him further into the room, not daring to speak, parchment and charcoal momentarily forgotten as she led him back towards a spiral staircase, Baelin could barely even form a coherent thought as he followed her. She too was barely dressed, but her exposed skin felt more like a welcome than anything unsettling. A short top that hung loose above her belly, held up by nothing more than thin straps; it showed off the curves of her back and the soft tone of her abdominals. Baelin found himself wondering if how many sit ups she could do, before pulling back from that line of thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, Baelin saw the guy that had greeted him roll his eyes, but Baelin paid him no mind. He and his exposed butt could stay right over there, where Baelin wouldn’t have to deal with it.
“You can call me Rose,” the woman said over her shoulder, still leading him in a more or less direct path to the staircase, “What kind of good time are you looking for?”
WC: 909
