Early Spring 515av
The waterfall was a constant roar. It had yet become background noise, but that was likely because he’d been unable to become accustomed to the environment. He doubted he ever would be, with the way these blue men went about their business. But perhaps that was for the better. Here, he was virtually invisible; no fear of unwarranted attention, unless he spoke to the wrong girl, or stepped across the wrong threshold. But the ethaefal was careful of such things when it came to the Akalak, whose hands could easily snap his neck and leave him a rotting ragdoll in the Sea of Grass.
But this was no Akalak's place.
It was the cusp of dusk and Maddoch stared at the cherry wood double doors with the blue eyes of his svefra seeming. He touched the surface with a hand. Polished, refined. The sun bastard did have taste, after all. With an easy push, the doors opened, and he stepped through, the lanterns flickering in his wake.
The place smelled of herbs; an overpowering conglomeration of wood and plant and liquor. His eyes roamed, scrutinizing the rugs scattered across the floor and the marble topped bar in the back. He noted most of the tables were vacant, and what few patrons were seated in their plush armchairs paid him no mind. In daylight, he was just like anyone else.
Maddoch walked up to the bar, where a young woman was preoccupying herself with the glassware. Her dark hair reminded him of Maire, but such thoughts he dismantled before they had time to properly manifest. He eyed her bosom, pushed together by the dress she wore, accented by a simple apron. She looked the part of a barmaid and part-time whore. A heavily plausible conclusion, all things considering.
“Are you as good with your hands on a man as you are with those glasses you’re handling?” Maddoch asked plainly.
The woman lifted her head with a deadpan stare. “Excuse me?”
The ethaefal rolled his eyes. How much more of a hint could he give? “How much do you charge?”
“I don’t charge anything, sir.” The barmaid’s tone was thoroughly laced with annoyance, though the smile on her lips was a feigned pleasance.
Maddoch laughed. “You’ve never used those pretty little hands to tug on a man’s fat—“
“NO.” She slammed the glass down abruptly. After a pause, she coughed and resumed her drying. “No, sir. I’m just not that kind of girl.”
The ethaefal raised a brow. That reaction, which might have repelled anyone else, only incited a rise in him. His lips curled in a smirk, and he reached out with a hand, far too fast for the girl to react to, and pulled her close enough for her blouse to be ripped down and an exposed bosom to be trapped in a harsh palm.
“There’s always time to start, sweetheart,” he hissed through her struggles, her hands gripping his hard forearms.
“Get the petch OFF of me!” She howled, slamming her fists into his wrists to no avail. He'd bruise, but he needed to do this. He needed the power, the authority, no matter how trivial the situation. With what strength he could force into his arms, he began to haul her away from the bar.
oocSeriously felt so sleazy writing this. I'm sorry Elise. *hugs*
The waterfall was a constant roar. It had yet become background noise, but that was likely because he’d been unable to become accustomed to the environment. He doubted he ever would be, with the way these blue men went about their business. But perhaps that was for the better. Here, he was virtually invisible; no fear of unwarranted attention, unless he spoke to the wrong girl, or stepped across the wrong threshold. But the ethaefal was careful of such things when it came to the Akalak, whose hands could easily snap his neck and leave him a rotting ragdoll in the Sea of Grass.
But this was no Akalak's place.
It was the cusp of dusk and Maddoch stared at the cherry wood double doors with the blue eyes of his svefra seeming. He touched the surface with a hand. Polished, refined. The sun bastard did have taste, after all. With an easy push, the doors opened, and he stepped through, the lanterns flickering in his wake.
The place smelled of herbs; an overpowering conglomeration of wood and plant and liquor. His eyes roamed, scrutinizing the rugs scattered across the floor and the marble topped bar in the back. He noted most of the tables were vacant, and what few patrons were seated in their plush armchairs paid him no mind. In daylight, he was just like anyone else.
Maddoch walked up to the bar, where a young woman was preoccupying herself with the glassware. Her dark hair reminded him of Maire, but such thoughts he dismantled before they had time to properly manifest. He eyed her bosom, pushed together by the dress she wore, accented by a simple apron. She looked the part of a barmaid and part-time whore. A heavily plausible conclusion, all things considering.
“Are you as good with your hands on a man as you are with those glasses you’re handling?” Maddoch asked plainly.
The woman lifted her head with a deadpan stare. “Excuse me?”
The ethaefal rolled his eyes. How much more of a hint could he give? “How much do you charge?”
“I don’t charge anything, sir.” The barmaid’s tone was thoroughly laced with annoyance, though the smile on her lips was a feigned pleasance.
Maddoch laughed. “You’ve never used those pretty little hands to tug on a man’s fat—“
“NO.” She slammed the glass down abruptly. After a pause, she coughed and resumed her drying. “No, sir. I’m just not that kind of girl.”
The ethaefal raised a brow. That reaction, which might have repelled anyone else, only incited a rise in him. His lips curled in a smirk, and he reached out with a hand, far too fast for the girl to react to, and pulled her close enough for her blouse to be ripped down and an exposed bosom to be trapped in a harsh palm.
“There’s always time to start, sweetheart,” he hissed through her struggles, her hands gripping his hard forearms.
“Get the petch OFF of me!” She howled, slamming her fists into his wrists to no avail. He'd bruise, but he needed to do this. He needed the power, the authority, no matter how trivial the situation. With what strength he could force into his arms, he began to haul her away from the bar.
oocSeriously felt so sleazy writing this. I'm sorry Elise. *hugs*