56 Ashan, 724
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The Siren’s Embrace, a brothel found in the middle region of the homely (or not so homely) town of Almund. Kotton had learnt a thing or two about this part of Scalvoris but didn’t want to formulate any opinions before he had a look at the district himself.
As a self-appointed professional lip-reader, the young man had been able to grasp hold of facts pertaining to the establishment. Apparently, those that worked here were trained to maintain their customer's wishes no matter how outlandish their desires were. It seemed there was also an unspoken rule that if you were to mess with the owner’s investments without payment, there was brutality to be guaranteed. But Kotton had no desire to meddle in things outside his budget. He was simply interested in maybe asking for... well, he didn't quite know yet. But he was sure to pay for the services.
The interior was glamorous. He could see signs declaring rooms of theme- rooms he assumed catered to unique fantasies or fetishes depending on the clientele. To his right was a table decorated with gorgeous ceramic bowls loaded with fruits of all kinds. He swore he even saw a dragon fruit. Weren't dragon fruits out of season? Refreshments were also available, and all he had to do was simply touch them to surmise their capabilities of hydration. To his left were a few cushioned lounge chairs, each one harbouring a rich older man's rear. And every rich older man was accompanied by a woman scantily clad in nothing other than shapes to cover their more intimate parts.
Kotton was beyond observing the scenery. He was brimming with elation as he turned to the centre of the room. There, he noticed a receptionist desk bombarded with a backlog of papers. He casually strode towards it, as confidently as he could with that of an image of wines and spirits haunting his vision.
He was met by a heavenly face and attached to that face was a seductive, yet intimidating smile. It was sly, luring, and a bit inquisitive. In the current state he was in, the young man was all for being led away into a night he would never remember but never forget.
Before the lady’s lips had even parted to form words, Kotton had his money ready in his hand. Hunting with his eyes which were a dark thundercloud black due to the moon's orbit, he tried to show the young lady how charming he could be. He lowered one eyebrow, but kept the other where it was. He lifted the left corner of his mouth softly, showing only a section of white dental. He leant on the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. With a voice as akin to honey as he could manage, he spoke. “I heaw youw women put men to theiw knees.” Only hindsight could give him the cringey feeling he needed to desperately want to retract such a statement.
But the receptionist merely giggled. She giggled! “Alright,” she tittered, voice as magical and romantic as Kotton thought the immortal's were, or so he assumed based off the gentle curvature of the consonants she enunciated. “Follow me.” And with that she turned with a flick of blonde hair that cascaded down her back in volumous braids.
“If I could wequest a dwink though? Miss?” he asked over the din of several moans and cries. He couldn’t make out what the leading lady said, but he was sure it followed along the lines of ‘no problem’, because before he had a moment to take back his request, a bottle of red wine appeared in the palm of his hand.
Suddenly Kotton’s vision flashed, fabricating it congruent to that of a view through a telescope. His heart started to beat erratically. Was it anticipation? Anxiety? The animalistic instinct tied to lust? He pushed out his ponderings and followed the receptionist into a large room. It was garnished with ivy leaves that draped down all four walls. An extremely large bed with royal and stylish red sheets adorning the mattress took up most of the room. Additional drapery framed the only window, and multiple 'accessories' were positioned strategically on a cedar counter against an oblong table at the footboard of the bed.
Kotton hadn’t even noticed the change of bodies as a new woman took his currency from his hand. The receptionist, with hair as golden as the sun and eyes as brown as chocolate, took from his other hand the bottle of wine he had been holding. A drink was poured and a glass was offered by her slender fingers and their nails decorated with cerulean nail polish. The hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck as he watched the maiden in front of him strip herself of soft, pink fabric. Oh, but it had matched her black lingerie and skirt so perfectly!
“Be prepared..." the young lady murmured with the flick of her tongue against her ruby lips. “Be prepared for your hour of delectable and eccentric pleasure.”
She gave a little dance and rubbed the palms of her hands over her black lingerie. Her breasts were large, maybe a little too large for Kotton's liking. In fact, looking at them made him feel a little uncomfortable. He liked watching them, but he also felt a little dirty at the same time. But, wasn't this what he paid for? She was such a beautiful woman after all and Kotton admired that (aside from the disproportional size of her bosoms).
“Mmm…” Kotton murmured as he laid waste to the imagery before him. Finally, he had nestled into the comfort of no longer feeling awkward. He had just managed to take a giant swig of the glass of red wine his hand when the half-naked woman shrieked. Her vocals were so loud it penetrated even Kotton's stuffed ears and when he turned to look at her, he noticed her eyes and how they were tightly locked onto one of his arms.
“You’re bleeding!” she cried, running to the door with the purpose of finding help.
Looking at his forearm, Kotton noticed how a large, red splotch of blood was seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. Apparently he had gotten his shirt sleeve wet, thereby making the red ink of the marker he had drawn on himself bleed. Was it too late to excuse it as a clumsy spillage from his glass of red wine? He had no energy to deal with having created a scene, so he ran to the lady and tried to reassure her that nothing was wrong. He proclaimed that it was just the wine- he had spilled and it had marred his shirt- but she incorrigable, fear driving her mind to haste. Without thinking, the young man chose to place his hand across her mouth. What he meant was to use his index finger and place it against her lips like a 'hushing' gesture, but things were happening a little too quickly. This no doubt frightened her more, so it made sense when she sank her teeth into his palm.
He was just now coming to terms with what he had done wrong when a large man in a black suit drove himself through the door and thrust a backhand toward his person, causing the young man to go down. The retaliation was understandable- it was not acceptable to lay hands on a working woman- but damn, did it have to be so forceful? A large fist grabbed the back of Kotton's hair and pulled him upright. Bordering on the line of being tipsy, but still aware that his life was in danger, Kotton sprung to life and dodged the next attack. He side-stepped the bodyguard. The bodyguard went sprawling over themselves from their momentum. Kotton quickly kicked the back of the man's knee, their body weight sending then toppling to the floor. Kotton didn't waste a second before aborting and bolting for the front door, the complimentary wine bottle long forgotten in the oasis of a happily ever after never to come.
Stumbling through the streets, his mind blasting with the noise of far too many unwanted thoughts, he quickly became lost. Frustrated, depressed and lonely, he sank to the ground against the wall of the closest building. He pressed his hands to his face before moving them downward, the bottoms of his eyelids in tow.
His cheeks were wet and his nose had become stuffed. The self-hatred from earlier was making a comeback and it started with the derisive comments of his mother. The gel he had applied to his wound had long since worn off. His eyelids grew heavy, but he was quickly reminded of his inability to sleep. Knowing this, he began to roam the streets, hoping to pass the time until the sun rose.
His feet hurt, his head hurt, his heart hurt, everything hurt- all like they had been squashed by a gigantic boulder, but he continued on. He was focused on dominating the cobble streets and making their names his own. He limped, lurched, and fumbled up the stairs to the front door of a store that seemed the most comfortable in this sketchy part of town. Judging by the handwritten sign, this building was a pet adoption agency of sorts. Illegitimate or not, Kotton was insistent on stepping his foot passed the threshold. The young man measured a few seconds before entering, glad that it was open at this time of night.
He had always been interested in owning a dog, and whilst his pet cat Imogen probably didn’t like the idea of him frolicking from store to store with the intention of finding a new companion, Kotton kept her other-speciated opinion in mind. His wish to locate an addition to his household was very material, however. He loved Imogen, he really did, but in his heart, he thought it crucial to recruit another lost soul into his otherwise hypothetically rejected Familia.
“May I help you?” A woman’s small voice sounded. Kotton was thankful he had taken notice of her lips before she had spoken or else he would have missed her welcome.
Here was the moment of truth. Here was the moment that would determine the choice of whether he would choose to annex another being to his family or refuse entirely.
As a self-appointed professional lip-reader, the young man had been able to grasp hold of facts pertaining to the establishment. Apparently, those that worked here were trained to maintain their customer's wishes no matter how outlandish their desires were. It seemed there was also an unspoken rule that if you were to mess with the owner’s investments without payment, there was brutality to be guaranteed. But Kotton had no desire to meddle in things outside his budget. He was simply interested in maybe asking for... well, he didn't quite know yet. But he was sure to pay for the services.
The interior was glamorous. He could see signs declaring rooms of theme- rooms he assumed catered to unique fantasies or fetishes depending on the clientele. To his right was a table decorated with gorgeous ceramic bowls loaded with fruits of all kinds. He swore he even saw a dragon fruit. Weren't dragon fruits out of season? Refreshments were also available, and all he had to do was simply touch them to surmise their capabilities of hydration. To his left were a few cushioned lounge chairs, each one harbouring a rich older man's rear. And every rich older man was accompanied by a woman scantily clad in nothing other than shapes to cover their more intimate parts.
Kotton was beyond observing the scenery. He was brimming with elation as he turned to the centre of the room. There, he noticed a receptionist desk bombarded with a backlog of papers. He casually strode towards it, as confidently as he could with that of an image of wines and spirits haunting his vision.
He was met by a heavenly face and attached to that face was a seductive, yet intimidating smile. It was sly, luring, and a bit inquisitive. In the current state he was in, the young man was all for being led away into a night he would never remember but never forget.
Before the lady’s lips had even parted to form words, Kotton had his money ready in his hand. Hunting with his eyes which were a dark thundercloud black due to the moon's orbit, he tried to show the young lady how charming he could be. He lowered one eyebrow, but kept the other where it was. He lifted the left corner of his mouth softly, showing only a section of white dental. He leant on the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. With a voice as akin to honey as he could manage, he spoke. “I heaw youw women put men to theiw knees.” Only hindsight could give him the cringey feeling he needed to desperately want to retract such a statement.
But the receptionist merely giggled. She giggled! “Alright,” she tittered, voice as magical and romantic as Kotton thought the immortal's were, or so he assumed based off the gentle curvature of the consonants she enunciated. “Follow me.” And with that she turned with a flick of blonde hair that cascaded down her back in volumous braids.
“If I could wequest a dwink though? Miss?” he asked over the din of several moans and cries. He couldn’t make out what the leading lady said, but he was sure it followed along the lines of ‘no problem’, because before he had a moment to take back his request, a bottle of red wine appeared in the palm of his hand.
Suddenly Kotton’s vision flashed, fabricating it congruent to that of a view through a telescope. His heart started to beat erratically. Was it anticipation? Anxiety? The animalistic instinct tied to lust? He pushed out his ponderings and followed the receptionist into a large room. It was garnished with ivy leaves that draped down all four walls. An extremely large bed with royal and stylish red sheets adorning the mattress took up most of the room. Additional drapery framed the only window, and multiple 'accessories' were positioned strategically on a cedar counter against an oblong table at the footboard of the bed.
Kotton hadn’t even noticed the change of bodies as a new woman took his currency from his hand. The receptionist, with hair as golden as the sun and eyes as brown as chocolate, took from his other hand the bottle of wine he had been holding. A drink was poured and a glass was offered by her slender fingers and their nails decorated with cerulean nail polish. The hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck as he watched the maiden in front of him strip herself of soft, pink fabric. Oh, but it had matched her black lingerie and skirt so perfectly!
“Be prepared..." the young lady murmured with the flick of her tongue against her ruby lips. “Be prepared for your hour of delectable and eccentric pleasure.”
She gave a little dance and rubbed the palms of her hands over her black lingerie. Her breasts were large, maybe a little too large for Kotton's liking. In fact, looking at them made him feel a little uncomfortable. He liked watching them, but he also felt a little dirty at the same time. But, wasn't this what he paid for? She was such a beautiful woman after all and Kotton admired that (aside from the disproportional size of her bosoms).
“Mmm…” Kotton murmured as he laid waste to the imagery before him. Finally, he had nestled into the comfort of no longer feeling awkward. He had just managed to take a giant swig of the glass of red wine his hand when the half-naked woman shrieked. Her vocals were so loud it penetrated even Kotton's stuffed ears and when he turned to look at her, he noticed her eyes and how they were tightly locked onto one of his arms.
“You’re bleeding!” she cried, running to the door with the purpose of finding help.
Looking at his forearm, Kotton noticed how a large, red splotch of blood was seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. Apparently he had gotten his shirt sleeve wet, thereby making the red ink of the marker he had drawn on himself bleed. Was it too late to excuse it as a clumsy spillage from his glass of red wine? He had no energy to deal with having created a scene, so he ran to the lady and tried to reassure her that nothing was wrong. He proclaimed that it was just the wine- he had spilled and it had marred his shirt- but she incorrigable, fear driving her mind to haste. Without thinking, the young man chose to place his hand across her mouth. What he meant was to use his index finger and place it against her lips like a 'hushing' gesture, but things were happening a little too quickly. This no doubt frightened her more, so it made sense when she sank her teeth into his palm.
He was just now coming to terms with what he had done wrong when a large man in a black suit drove himself through the door and thrust a backhand toward his person, causing the young man to go down. The retaliation was understandable- it was not acceptable to lay hands on a working woman- but damn, did it have to be so forceful? A large fist grabbed the back of Kotton's hair and pulled him upright. Bordering on the line of being tipsy, but still aware that his life was in danger, Kotton sprung to life and dodged the next attack. He side-stepped the bodyguard. The bodyguard went sprawling over themselves from their momentum. Kotton quickly kicked the back of the man's knee, their body weight sending then toppling to the floor. Kotton didn't waste a second before aborting and bolting for the front door, the complimentary wine bottle long forgotten in the oasis of a happily ever after never to come.
Stumbling through the streets, his mind blasting with the noise of far too many unwanted thoughts, he quickly became lost. Frustrated, depressed and lonely, he sank to the ground against the wall of the closest building. He pressed his hands to his face before moving them downward, the bottoms of his eyelids in tow.
His cheeks were wet and his nose had become stuffed. The self-hatred from earlier was making a comeback and it started with the derisive comments of his mother. The gel he had applied to his wound had long since worn off. His eyelids grew heavy, but he was quickly reminded of his inability to sleep. Knowing this, he began to roam the streets, hoping to pass the time until the sun rose.
His feet hurt, his head hurt, his heart hurt, everything hurt- all like they had been squashed by a gigantic boulder, but he continued on. He was focused on dominating the cobble streets and making their names his own. He limped, lurched, and fumbled up the stairs to the front door of a store that seemed the most comfortable in this sketchy part of town. Judging by the handwritten sign, this building was a pet adoption agency of sorts. Illegitimate or not, Kotton was insistent on stepping his foot passed the threshold. The young man measured a few seconds before entering, glad that it was open at this time of night.
He had always been interested in owning a dog, and whilst his pet cat Imogen probably didn’t like the idea of him frolicking from store to store with the intention of finding a new companion, Kotton kept her other-speciated opinion in mind. His wish to locate an addition to his household was very material, however. He loved Imogen, he really did, but in his heart, he thought it crucial to recruit another lost soul into his otherwise hypothetically rejected Familia.
“May I help you?” A woman’s small voice sounded. Kotton was thankful he had taken notice of her lips before she had spoken or else he would have missed her welcome.
Here was the moment of truth. Here was the moment that would determine the choice of whether he would choose to annex another being to his family or refuse entirely.
