[The Clinic] Sore spots

by **Fallon** on January 17th, 2014, 7:45 am

Fallon gave him a cold look, disapproval smothering her face as she stared. Holding it she answered him once more, "Remind me to teach you the fine art of Rhetoric. No, I do not want to know about what I can bite on."

Head turning away she gave a blink as he wrapped the bandages round and covered the wounds. It tightened around the limbs, a tight hold that pinched in places. It still served its purpose however, protecting healing injuries from the elements. Recovery would be allowed, damages would be stitched together as the flesh left nothing more than scars. Blinking she heard his firm confirmation that she could once more move, and quickly did so. Hands became animated, quick moving and grabbing of her articles. Layers were applied, the once damp that was put to one side now drier if not still caked with stains. Wriggling into her shirt and pants, she gave a pause to hear his offer of payment. It was noticeable that she became more comfortable the moment garments returned to her form, her shoulders slumping as she relaxed. Her hands fumbled about the ragged coat, reaching within and checking the contents she gave him only a series of nods to his words in acknowledgement, "Yes. Payment."

She pulled the belt and sheath around her waist, a wince almost as she heard his offer, "I know nothing about cosmetology. It has little interest for me, more so as I spend more time rolling around getting dirty due to travelling. then actually..." she shook her head, "You get the idea. It's the same with cooking, the only thing I'm good at doing with it is eating it. Most stuff burns. Ask me to get hunting game though," there was a smirk, "Well I'll give that a go and try butchering it for you."

In honesty, Fallon did not really care. He had given her assistance, so even she felt the right for a fair exchange - well, as fair as she deemed. She was not exactly about to fall into some areas with him. There was a nonchalant shrug, her fingers wriggling through the gloves as she pulled them on and once more hid the skin. Thinking she tried to think of a compromise, words turning in her mind. She would have sooner thrown coin at him, wasn't that what most people in Sunberth wanted? It kept the world turning, it allowed the purchase of things, exchange and the little economy the city did have to thrive.

Clearing her throat she addressed him, "What would you rather. Coin, or knowledge? I can offer both, though I am more limited in the latter in some areas of course. I am no bottomless font. But, it seems your memory has not left you that I still like study." She opened both hands, creating a weighing scale for him to decide from, "My personal interests would presently be in that of the city, learning and understanding the system to its truest form. What makes it tick, were information is easier flowing and tight lipped. And of course most reliable sources. It all lies with the people however."

"So, what will it be?" she asked again, "I'm flexible of course, within reason. I will not be diving into your preferred practice." And then there was a wicked grin, "Or... we could always grab Wrenmae. To practice your cosmetics on of course. I don't mind in assisting in acquiring him of course."

by **Matthew** on January 20th, 2014, 8:49 pm

Then why in the world would you ask? Matthew felt it was an obvious question, but he realized that it probably wasn't something he should phrase. He just kept his mouth shut this time, a skill that he needed to hone.

She was quite quick as he allowed her to move, the harlot just now realizing that she was probably bashful about her nude form. He had just assumed she was uncomfortable in the cold, though now that he thought about it, her stiff posture hadn't relaxed when she had sat beside of the fire. Immediately forgetting the lesson he had tried to teach himself, his mouth opened and words spilled out. "You shouldn't be ashamed. Freckles are considered attractive by most, your skin is a nice shade, and you have pretty eyes. Your body is a neutral sort, meaning it will hold allure for some and won't hold anything for others. No reason to-" Matthew's words paused for a moment, his eyes growing glassy.

Scar on shoulder, multiple precise scars on the middle of the back. Further precise circles on the elbow, another precise scar on the ankle. Pale mark on the lower left arm, and some other sort of Mark on the left hand. Multiple scars, but some that are too precise to be accidents. Torture or self-harm?

Everything faded except for Fallon, the woman stripped down once again before him, standing tall. He paced around her, studying the marks more. She couldn't have reached the middle back. Those would have had to be another hand. The ones on the elbow, those would be hard to make so precisely if they were her own hand. Torture?

Matthew's eyes focused. "-be ashamed." He finished quietly, furrowing his brow, blue stare holding her gaze. "I am only a prostitute however, and merely see the physical value of a particular body. No doubt there is more that you feel." He stared at her a bit longer, then realized that she had addressed his request for payment. He felt a slight bubble of disappointment at the idea that she would not be coming to learn cooking or cosmetology. He was having a hard time finding someone who was interested in learning those particular skills with him. Learning always went so much better whenever there were two people to partake.

But, as she continued, he discovered that she did have something else interesting to offer him.

"The city? Tight-lipped?" He slowly shook his head, stare still holding her own. "The city freely tells every story it has. Every single person has a secret, but almost everyone else knows those secrets. The city has a heartbeat, and if you can find that heartbeat, you can learn everything. You merely have to become a part of the city, and suddenly it will seem so much more... talkative. Information is information, regardless to if it is correct information or not. Even lies are spoken for a purpose, and seeing that they are lies is information in it's own right. The city breathes, Fallon. It breathes sex, drugs, and violence. It breathes debauchery, and all you have to do is breath it in as well." He clapped his hands together and then brushed them off, though there was no visible dirt. He had kept them remarkably clean through the whole process, making sure to constantly wash them in the water they had put to good use.

"For example. I accept your final offer. Bring Wrenmae by the Sanctum, and the two of you can purchase me for a night. You wouldn't believe how private of a place the bedroom of a harlot can be. I can give him a haircut there. He desperately needs a haircut. An actual haircut, not a knife slashed through it when he thinks it is getting too long." He really needed to practice cosmetics, and this was a excellent opportunity. He would also be able to help Fallon understand what he meant about the heartbeat of the city, if she didn't. And he would be able to see how Wrenmae's pursuits were going, if he had indeed continued to pursue them here in Sunberth.

He was looking forward to the haircut the most, though.

by **Fallon** on January 21st, 2014, 7:05 am

Anger flared. It rose up from a dull ember into a roaring fire. They both knew why this reaction had come from her, why the jaw had constricted tightly and her glare landed upon him. Lips formed into a line, her shoulders rolling back as she held it. But then, she pulled it back and away. Head snapping back she ensured her buttons were done up, her form sheltered from view. How dare he comment upon such things, such vulnerabilities and marks. Swallowing, she sucked in the air and made space between them.

His words turned in her mind, a different perspective enlightening her. It made her think, her mind stretching and considering other possibility. The city was an organism in itself, the buildings its flesh, the people it's life blood. Both had to be known and looked after in order to be properly maintained. Both had to live in balance, to push, to pull and be part of the same organism. Maybe that was why it was so hard for her to gather, she was not part of it - just little more than an observer looking in. She needed to sink herself among them, no more segregating herself from the masses. Rocking on her heels she gave a turn, forcing animation into her body.

"I understand. I think. It lives. It beats. An organ. A body," She pinched her brow, fingers massaging at her jaw. Then what was she and Wrenmae? A disease? A wound? It made her feel unsettled, her innards knotting. How was this doing the work she promised further afield? How was this slicing away the corrupt and festered, to allow those that needed to recover to do so? Her fingers curled into a fist, the bubbling anger dripping down into them before she released it into the air. So she had been tricked - at least it felt that way in her mindset. Shoulders sagging she gave a look up at him, her eyes dying down once more into that of almost sombre. She did not speak of her realisation, it was not her place to - nor did she want to. Instead she let the uncertainty gnaw at her for just a while longer and then once more spoke in a lower, monotonous voice, "I understand."

She did not argue with him, instead she simply accepted his words. Eyes glazed over, masked and dulled, her expression lifting into that of a neutral canvas. Words became an echo, a simple gentle nod along as she hoisted up the coat. Arms pulled through the sleeves, the worn material being shrugged on as he continued to talk of his ideas. She let out a rattled breath, a gentle shifting of weight upon her feet, "Purchase for a night. Well, I guess it is work for you. Though, it does feel slightly..." she discarded the thought. There was no need to further share with the harlot - not yet at least.

"For ease," she spoke firmly, "It will be under the guise of a meeting. You know, sharing and exchanging of information. Gentle talks in comfort. He would object if it was anything else, and dragging him there would only be tiring. I'm sure you can make something up to lure him in. Or find something. Whatever your preference." It was at that point she tossed a gold miza to him, "Down payment. I am holding you to this offer now. Don't change your mind. Now, what is your preferred date? Tomorrow? Or too soon?"

Reaching a hand forward she gestured to it to him to shake. It was the confirmation of business, a verbal signing of an agreement - and in all seriousness she would hold him to it. No matter how ridiculous it seemed.

by **Matthew** on January 22nd, 2014, 6:41 pm

Anger. He could read it. Sometimes he could not understand the source, but he could read the signs. She wasn't the most expressive of people but he had accidently struck a chord, one that he hadn't meant to pluck. He would have apologized, but apologizing would only bring the chord even further into the light, something that seemed like it would be more of a mistake than bringing it up in the first place. He just kept quiet, bowing his head in a slightly submissive show, ready to accept whatever her display of anger would be. However, she seemed to pull it in, rein it back, keep it under control. He could tell she was now thinking about something else, perhaps meditating on his words. He sensed the Doctor now staring at him and he turned his head slightly, meeting the gaze of the emotionless mask pointed at him. He watched it for a moment and then turned his head back to Fallon as she spoke, giving her his full attention once more.

"Just let him know my name. Hopefully that will be enough to entice him. Tell him what I said about the city." The Doctor suddenly turned, holding a patch of perfectly square flesh in both of his hands. It hung, dripping blood onto the floor. Matthew moved silently, his clean fingers taking ahold of the still-warm substance, moving it towards a nearby table with a metal tray on it. Gently setting it onto the tray, he toyed with a few nearby needles, each color-coded by a small bead on their blunt end. Picking a few of the red ones, he marked little locations here and there on the patch of flesh, the Doctor returning to his own work. The coin was flicked at Matthew and he clumsily caught it, fumbling a bit before staring at the crimson-stained gold in his hand. Setting it down on the tray beside of the flesh, he glanced back to Fallon, nodding. "Tomorrow will be fine. Remember, the Scarlet Sanctum. Just ask for Matthew, and pay the cost. They will show you to me."

Staring down at her hand, he paused a moment and then grabbed a nearby rag, cleaning his hands off as best as he could. He reached out and gave her fingers a firm shake, his stare holding her own once more. "A man and a woman, ordering a whore for their combined pleasures in a whore-house." For a moment his eyes look tired, but they soon sharpened back to their piercing blue stare. "Breathe in the debauchery, Fallon. Your veins will pulse in time with the city."

He released the handshake, waving her towards the door. There were many sick in Sunberth, and the Clinic had many more customers to come. More would make it out than others had in recent weeks. The Doctor's stock was practically full at this point.

by **Vanari** on March 4th, 2014, 7:36 pm

Fallon

Intimidation	+1 XP
Interrogation	+3 XP
Negotiation	+2 XP
Leadership	+1 XP
Intelligence	+3 XP

Lores :

Matthew

Rhetoric	+3 XP
Interrogation	+2 XP
Intelligence	+3 XP
Medicine	+3 XP
Negotiation	+1 XP
Planning	+2 XP

Lores :

Notes :

Closed [The Clinic] Sore spots