33rd Spring, 514 AV - The Pig’s Foot Tavern
She was waiting for her mistress, Bitzer had been busy of late with organization and the leading of the Scars. For the most part Zandelia had left her to it, it was a task that she seemed to relish despite what she grumbled about in her free time. She missed her but did not begrudge her what she was doing, Zandelia was doing the same after a similar fashion. She had had little time for the Scars so far, mostly dispensing what advice she could at the opportune moments. She was building a network that much was true but it was being done in a way which furthered her own goals and that was something that she had yet to reveal to Bitzer. She wasn’t sure if she were doing the right thing but it was time for some truth. As such she had asked Bitzer to join her at the Pig’s Foot for a drink.
Before we move on to other items of business, I hope at least she told herself as she played with the stem of her wine cup – wooden of course. There were no luxuries in Sunberth.
Gone was the pipe smoke today, the fumes that would cloud her breath and taint her mouth for what she had in mind. Gone also were the warriors clothes and trinkets. Whilst she liked the sleek and semi-erotic look of her new Night Leather gear she knew that it would not be appropriate. Instead she had favoured her flaxen wear. The dress was a good piece of clothing all things considered, red and with a yellow pattern of interlocking geometric shapes that ran all across the front of the bodice and curled around to the laces at the back. It hugged her figure admirably and turned her curves into true ridges and troughs. The skirts were long but easily raised – a useful point for this night. Red slippers finished the faced and she liked it.
It’ll work. With no smallclothes on underneath it had better do, I am risking much in what I do tonight she told herself morosely as she downed her third cup of wine. She was drinking to hide her shame and bring upon herself a merry buzzing that would at least get her through the next few Bells.
“Selling one’s body is not the trick, the trick is getting away with it” she muttered, she had not meant to speak it aloud and it brought leering looks from the mercenaries around her. She grinned at them and watched as Merv shook his head and they settled down with groans.
It was not that she was protected so much as Merv didn’t want to see blood spilled in his tavern. He knew exactly what Zandelia were capable of and she found herself wondering if they men knew just how close they had come to death and how much they now owed the silent bar keeper. The waitress, for want of a better term, came and refilled her cup – there were no coins exchanged today. Merv still owed her a few silvers from the down payment she had given previously in the season. And so there she sat, legs crossed at the knee beneath her skirts and drinking wine – for all the world like a common strumpet. She had even managed to borrow some cosmetics from the girl working the bar – always one to try and pretty things she was.
Her lips were rouge and her eyes were well powdered to bring out the green in her one good eye. She still found it amusing how many men still found her attractive despite her dead eye. In her opinion there was a lot of desperation in the city. She caught them looking and blew them a small kiss and watched with interest as they roared and began tp punch each other with triumph.
h the rumours this will start I’m sure…petch it all. Even though I want them to abound to cover my tracks as Web it’s still damned annoying she told herself as she awaited Bitzer’s arrival.
She was Dasoma again, this night.
She was waiting for her mistress, Bitzer had been busy of late with organization and the leading of the Scars. For the most part Zandelia had left her to it, it was a task that she seemed to relish despite what she grumbled about in her free time. She missed her but did not begrudge her what she was doing, Zandelia was doing the same after a similar fashion. She had had little time for the Scars so far, mostly dispensing what advice she could at the opportune moments. She was building a network that much was true but it was being done in a way which furthered her own goals and that was something that she had yet to reveal to Bitzer. She wasn’t sure if she were doing the right thing but it was time for some truth. As such she had asked Bitzer to join her at the Pig’s Foot for a drink.
Before we move on to other items of business, I hope at least she told herself as she played with the stem of her wine cup – wooden of course. There were no luxuries in Sunberth.
Gone was the pipe smoke today, the fumes that would cloud her breath and taint her mouth for what she had in mind. Gone also were the warriors clothes and trinkets. Whilst she liked the sleek and semi-erotic look of her new Night Leather gear she knew that it would not be appropriate. Instead she had favoured her flaxen wear. The dress was a good piece of clothing all things considered, red and with a yellow pattern of interlocking geometric shapes that ran all across the front of the bodice and curled around to the laces at the back. It hugged her figure admirably and turned her curves into true ridges and troughs. The skirts were long but easily raised – a useful point for this night. Red slippers finished the faced and she liked it.
It’ll work. With no smallclothes on underneath it had better do, I am risking much in what I do tonight she told herself morosely as she downed her third cup of wine. She was drinking to hide her shame and bring upon herself a merry buzzing that would at least get her through the next few Bells.
“Selling one’s body is not the trick, the trick is getting away with it” she muttered, she had not meant to speak it aloud and it brought leering looks from the mercenaries around her. She grinned at them and watched as Merv shook his head and they settled down with groans.
It was not that she was protected so much as Merv didn’t want to see blood spilled in his tavern. He knew exactly what Zandelia were capable of and she found herself wondering if they men knew just how close they had come to death and how much they now owed the silent bar keeper. The waitress, for want of a better term, came and refilled her cup – there were no coins exchanged today. Merv still owed her a few silvers from the down payment she had given previously in the season. And so there she sat, legs crossed at the knee beneath her skirts and drinking wine – for all the world like a common strumpet. She had even managed to borrow some cosmetics from the girl working the bar – always one to try and pretty things she was.
Her lips were rouge and her eyes were well powdered to bring out the green in her one good eye. She still found it amusing how many men still found her attractive despite her dead eye. In her opinion there was a lot of desperation in the city. She caught them looking and blew them a small kiss and watched with interest as they roared and began tp punch each other with triumph.
h the rumours this will start I’m sure…petch it all. Even though I want them to abound to cover my tracks as Web it’s still damned annoying she told herself as she awaited Bitzer’s arrival.
She was Dasoma again, this night.