Fray glanced up from her gross exaggeration of a bow and found that Gongzi had strolled by without so much as a backward glance. As soon as he was past, the Deva righted herself and gave the guards a cheeky salute. The gate slammed shut in response.
As was with most things not directly relevant to violence, the mention of “home fashions,” whatever the fuck that was, resurfaced in her mind after considerable delay. The merc, of course, had no clue what that entailed. She didn’t even know where home was exactly for the princeling. But, if his own clothes were anything to go by…well, at the very least, she knew she could count on it to be more elaborate than anything she’d ever dream up.
Her interest was piqued at the mention of high end liquor, though she couldn’t remember trying anything as fruity sounding as apple peel and sweet plum. The closest thing would have been mead, but even then.
“A shame that I haven’t,” came her irreverent answer, “though it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
Fray smiled wistfully as memories came flooding back. She was so momentarily distracted that she failed to notice the princeling slowing to keep pace before peering up at her in bemusement. Then again, she was rather used to being stared at, usually with caution and contempt. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t openly advertise the exact kind of life she chose to live, as well as the things she did to keep it so. Which was why when Lord Wen said what he said next, it caught his new hireling by genuine surprise.
From the day she first drew breath, Fray had received a thorough and continual education on judgment. Her elders judged those who came before, lamenting and arguing and scheming over their people’s unfortunate history. Her mentors judged her to be filled with potential while choosing to remain willfully inattentive. Her twin judged her as impossible yet loved her anyway. And she…she judged the whole world back as a miserable pit of suffering that she never asked to partake in, but was forced to anyway. Fray, with her sharp horns that twisted defiantly toward the sky, and her predatory eyes that could see all the secret terrors hiding in the dark, had never once in her short, woe begotten life, known anything other than judgement.
And here Lord Wen was, suggesting in his characteristic, unbothered way, that for the first time in possibly ever, she would find a reprieve she never even thought to ask for.
Her immediate reaction was to distrust. Surely, he was lying. But then she thought about it some, an activity that was becoming concerningly more frequent around Rich Boy’s unusual presence, and felt a sneaking suspicion that Lord Wen would not give enough of a shit to lie.
Additionally, there was the troublesome promise of lounging. Far be it from Fray to deny the chance for some proper idleness. It was easily one of her top three favorite pastimes, after all. Only…well, in her rather simple little mind, the idea alone clashed wildly with her duties. She was not some loyalty-obsessed idiot like Captain Rennifer, far from it. But even she could see the folly in trying to relax while also protecting an absolute beacon for trouble.
“Well bo–Gongzi, I’m always ready, so long as I’m less than ten drinks in,” she finally responded after spending some time lost in thought. “But uh…how exactly do you plan to get their attention?”
What she really wanted to ask was how they were going to avoid getting attention from everyone else. She’d lost count of the amount of times they had already been stared at just walking here. But there wasn’t time to ask a second question, as they were approaching what could only be their destination. It was a fine looking establishment indeed, and instead of surly looking guards, a pair of beautiful, immaculately dressed hostesses greeted them at the door.
The women wore matching, figure hugging uniforms, both with fan shaped sections of fabric missing from their bosoms. It was tastefully–and strategically–placed, meant to draw the eye while maintaining the mystery.
They bowed in unison and offered a sing-song greeting to their new patrons, providing a sliver more for the wandering eye to behold.
“Well, fuck me,” Fray muttered under her breath.
As was with most things not directly relevant to violence, the mention of “home fashions,” whatever the fuck that was, resurfaced in her mind after considerable delay. The merc, of course, had no clue what that entailed. She didn’t even know where home was exactly for the princeling. But, if his own clothes were anything to go by…well, at the very least, she knew she could count on it to be more elaborate than anything she’d ever dream up.
Her interest was piqued at the mention of high end liquor, though she couldn’t remember trying anything as fruity sounding as apple peel and sweet plum. The closest thing would have been mead, but even then.
“A shame that I haven’t,” came her irreverent answer, “though it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
Fray smiled wistfully as memories came flooding back. She was so momentarily distracted that she failed to notice the princeling slowing to keep pace before peering up at her in bemusement. Then again, she was rather used to being stared at, usually with caution and contempt. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t openly advertise the exact kind of life she chose to live, as well as the things she did to keep it so. Which was why when Lord Wen said what he said next, it caught his new hireling by genuine surprise.
From the day she first drew breath, Fray had received a thorough and continual education on judgment. Her elders judged those who came before, lamenting and arguing and scheming over their people’s unfortunate history. Her mentors judged her to be filled with potential while choosing to remain willfully inattentive. Her twin judged her as impossible yet loved her anyway. And she…she judged the whole world back as a miserable pit of suffering that she never asked to partake in, but was forced to anyway. Fray, with her sharp horns that twisted defiantly toward the sky, and her predatory eyes that could see all the secret terrors hiding in the dark, had never once in her short, woe begotten life, known anything other than judgement.
And here Lord Wen was, suggesting in his characteristic, unbothered way, that for the first time in possibly ever, she would find a reprieve she never even thought to ask for.
Her immediate reaction was to distrust. Surely, he was lying. But then she thought about it some, an activity that was becoming concerningly more frequent around Rich Boy’s unusual presence, and felt a sneaking suspicion that Lord Wen would not give enough of a shit to lie.
Additionally, there was the troublesome promise of lounging. Far be it from Fray to deny the chance for some proper idleness. It was easily one of her top three favorite pastimes, after all. Only…well, in her rather simple little mind, the idea alone clashed wildly with her duties. She was not some loyalty-obsessed idiot like Captain Rennifer, far from it. But even she could see the folly in trying to relax while also protecting an absolute beacon for trouble.
“Well bo–Gongzi, I’m always ready, so long as I’m less than ten drinks in,” she finally responded after spending some time lost in thought. “But uh…how exactly do you plan to get their attention?”
What she really wanted to ask was how they were going to avoid getting attention from everyone else. She’d lost count of the amount of times they had already been stared at just walking here. But there wasn’t time to ask a second question, as they were approaching what could only be their destination. It was a fine looking establishment indeed, and instead of surly looking guards, a pair of beautiful, immaculately dressed hostesses greeted them at the door.
The women wore matching, figure hugging uniforms, both with fan shaped sections of fabric missing from their bosoms. It was tastefully–and strategically–placed, meant to draw the eye while maintaining the mystery.
They bowed in unison and offered a sing-song greeting to their new patrons, providing a sliver more for the wandering eye to behold.
“Well, fuck me,” Fray muttered under her breath.