Page 1 of 1
[Memory] The World As It Was: Part One
Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2020 2:29 pm
by Geralt
Ash 31, Year 116, AoS
Geralt had spent a few days in the city of Kamdin, guided there by his mother - the Lady Baringer - in order to extend diplomatic offerings towards the Atinorin Finla. His House had befallen a great deal of turmoil in recent years, particularly upon the passing of his wife, the last major tie to one of his realm's powerful vassal states. With his own family's hand in her death a vague possibility, further mistrust had been sewn between Baringer and its vassal states, and with a rise in the number of Koltoskan migrants even the peasant class had joined in the chorus of voices involved in his realm's many political affairs.
House Baringer was desperate for a way out -- and they knew that foreign intervention was an unfortunate but necessary possibility. And so he had been sent out to consider marriages with foreign nobility, first to Radenor - unsuccessfully - and now to Atinaw.
But that hadn't been successful either, or at least not on the surface. Discussion and deliberation followed and ensued, countless day's worth. He was meant to stay until the Finla had an answer for him, but it was difficult. His patience had been tested.
Geralt's sons were still in Lorien. They were only a reminder that any child born to him and any other Lady would have no place in the line of succession; another detractor that kept powerful suitors away from negotiations. It wasn't particularly satisfying, being told by every Lord he met that he was an uninspiring candidate for marriage. He was the heir to a powerful land -- he thought he was handsome, and at least moderately competent. But for everyone else he was far from enough. He was of questionable import and the seed of a failing dynasty. A shamed Avialae to a distant foreign land, mostly regarded by other nations as confusing if not disturbed.
Foreign nobles were particularly difficult -- they shied from sending their children or themselves to a Kingdom like Lorien, where they would be monitored by the Kindred for all their days. He understood that apprehension; even being here it was tempting to just not go back. He still found himself looking over his shoulder, though, and policing his own thoughts. The Kindred's mark was one that did not easily wash off.
It was why he'd come to a brothel; to forget about it all. The inadequacy, the impossible task, the negotiations and poison-dipped words borne of falsified tongues. He wanted to just -- enjoy himself.
Loveless. He laughed as he witnessed the name tapered upon the wood. It was often how he felt, so he supposed that within this place, he belonged.
Geralt wore far less glamorous clothes than he was used to. He wore a simple black shirt with a somewhat open collar, revealing his chest down to the bottom-shape of his pectorals. His sleeves cut off shortly beyond the beginnings of his shoulders, and his trousers were a soft cotton, molded to shape around his form. His hair was more unkempt than normal; he had intentionally shifted it from his traditionally slick, courtly style. It was short anyway, and it bled out into a well-maintained beard.
Geralt appeared somewhat chipper, though he received a number of curious gazes as he stepped into the brothel foyer. He looked just like a human, but he was much taller than a regular man. And in general, larger. A sort of freak accident of nature, most would guess, rather than a wingless Avialae. He preferred it that way, though -- no one questioned it for longer than the first glance. The wings... they drew unnecessary attention, and suspicion. In some ways it was a blessing that they were gone.
"Hello," he greeted the person heading the brothel's desk. "I'm looking for a whore," the man said bluntly. "Male, closer to my size is good. I don't care what race -- just not anything too freakish, alright? Something vaguely resembling a human. What are your rates?"
He looked upon a sort of menu -- one that answered the question he'd only just asked. "Oh. Right," he said. Cheap. "Well -- talk to your mistress or whomever. I'd like to get this going sooner rather than later."
It was obvious he wasn't in a good mood. He even appeared slightly tipsy, though not enough to do more than slightly slur the ends of his words. He'd snap out of it the moment the... action started, he thought.
Re: [Memory] The World As It Was: Part One
Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2020 9:58 pm
by Ricky
Geralt had walked into probably one of the most exquisite, yet somehow rundown, buildings located upon the harbors of Tirek. Loveless had it's wily if not weathered charm on the outside, and yet, it was when he had entered that a stark contrast was noticeable. The furnishing, the silver lanterns, even the aroma of incense created an air of exotic wonder, creating the illusion that there was some essence of expensive taste within the old building. Sailors would chat and flirt with the ladies that sauntered around the foyer, displaying themselves in only teasing manners to invoke the thought of business in patrons.
Yet it was when the foreigner had walked towards the desk, though it admittedly looked more like a makeshift bar, that a red-haired elven woman looked up to him. With rich emerald green eyes fixed upon him she gandered, curiously, upon the incredibly tall specimen that stood before her. Another paying customer? Well then, it didn't take long for her to perk up as a response, her grin clearly indicative that she was the habit of managing the business here. "Defer t' the Common Tongue ey? Well, handsome, as y' can see we've a whole foyer of gents who might..." The green eyes of the woman migrated from where his face was, onward down until they fell upon where his belt would've resided. "be of some service."
She then craned her head slightly with a thoughtful look in the narrowing of her eyes, as they quickly shot back up to stare at him once more in the eyes. "A man though issit? Hm!" The corner of her round cheeks turned upward in a devious grin, as the robust woman slowly sauntered her way from around the counter, a hand planted on the side of her hip as she used the other to lean against the bar itself. She wore what appeared to be an expensive dress, black much like the velvety curtains that covered the windows of the establishment, and yet covering her bodice beneath the dress was the corset she still wore, much of it loosely done as she admired the stranger for a moment longer.
"I actually know the perfect partner fer one o' yer.... stature." She waved her hand about a few times to gesture at Geralt, the look in her eyes speculative now as she moved to stand behind the bar once more. "I should warn y' though, get too rough wit' this un' and he'll get rough back." She stated with a fluid hand motion towards the corner of the foyer, where a pair of chairs resided with an end table between them. Within one of those chairs was the man she'd gestured towards, one who sat heavily into his chair with an ankle resting over his lap. "Have a lil' chat wit' him, see if he's your type or not." She teased before chuckling a little, taking the quill from its inkwell so she could resume writing something.
Whether or not he lingered to ask questions for a moment, Geralt would find that his approach would be briefly halted at a couple of occasions, with the harlots of establishment nearly pining to garner his attention. Clearly Geralt was a new face and, therefore, a possible new toy for some of the prostitutes... as well as a walking money bag. Yet no matter how he reacted the advances, the one Geralt moved to see didn't stir, merely sit in his chair as he took a long drag off the cigar. A small glass of whiskey was slowly being swirled in his free hand, as the alleged manwhore in question eased his head back to release another plume of smoke. It was fairly easy to see that this individual was tall, much like Geralt requested, while the clothes he wore were merely the white cotton vest, with a pair of weathered trousers the color of beige as well. Quite noticeably was the fact he wore no shoes, then again given his current profession, it wasn't like he really needed to be wearing any either.
Still, the harlot remained relaxed as the last of smoke trailed from his lungs, his eyes slowly opening to witness the sight of a stranger's approach. Thus with intense eyes now fixated on the outlander before him, Rickter took a sip of his whiskey before looking the man up and down. Much like the ginger had done earlier. "There reason y' lookin' t' me specifically?" He inquired in probably the heaviest accented Kokalath that Geralt would ever hear, his eyebrows only slightly raised as he waited to hear this man answer the question.
"Speech"