The bastards! How did they move so quietly?
It was Atticus who demanded mercy from the greenskins. He disgusted Raelyn, a slimy little worm who did little more than whine and complain. It was almost a shame when the leader (Was it?) asked his troops to spare him - she would have been happy to see him go.
She didn't think the two dead men deserved their punishment. She didn't really know one of them, but the other had a wife and two kids. He had always been nice to have around, often bursting into song or telling jokes to lighten the mood. Now he was dead, and if the big creature (Was that an Orc? Or was it something different?) had its way, he would end up replacing the food they had stolen.
Thankfully, their leader was of a more mercantile mind, telling his troops to take them back to their leader rather than eat them. It at least gave her a chance to explain herself.
As they were forced to their feet, one of the orcs put his hand in a very, very taboo place - Raelyn's wing. It took every ounce of her not to knee him in the groin for his perversion, consoling herself with the fact that he just didn't know that was unacceptable. Still, she couldn't help but let out a curse in her home language "Get your filthy hands off me. I don't know where the hell they have been, but I can assure you, I don't want them on my wings"
Unfortunately, he didn't speak Orsini, or he didn't care enough to listen, and kept his hand on her wings, which got her thinking - what would the chieftain do when he saw them? Probably rape her and slaughter the rest, or spare them to get some amusement out of them later. She wouldn't put it past them. From what she had seen, that was probably how they spent their Saturday nights, just raping, pillaging and eating. Probably at the same time.
"You there, big one" she called to the Ogre "Tell this degenerate to let my wing go."
There was no further resistance. Even the proudest of Seraphim knows when a situation is hopeless, and they all just shut up and went through the motions. They had training for what to doing captured, probably even more training than Praetorians on this matter, as that was the risk they all had to take. This what they were meant to do. Betray nothing, endure everything. Surely it was better for one man to die than for the entire city to suffer for his loud mouth?
When Girus first walked into the Belladonna, Arabella thought he might just break down on the spot.
She could power every light in the place with the heat his cheeks were giving off alone, and he was shaking like a kicked dog in an earthquake. She knew he was shy, but she didn't know it was this bad. She started to doubt her choice, which was very, very rare.
A few days down the line, and he had almost completely changed. He was chatting happily to customers about pleasantries such as the weather and the embargo, which had hardly scathed Orsini at all, and the deep Vermillion colour of his face was had died down to a dull Persian pink - still miles away from its typical alabaster pallor, but enough to stop people from trying to make toast with him. Even his trembling had almost stopped, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the occasional twitch.
But he didn't move from behind the desk, and he had taken to binding his wings to stop them stiffening up in front of anyone, courtesan or customer alike. It was embarrassing enough to be seen in such a place - the last thing he wanted was for his wings to stand up straight behind him like a couple of custard-yellow, feathery soldiers.
In the midst of his colour maelstrom, he had a relatively simple job. Every time a courtesan was "hired", he had to take a note of who it was, the customer's name, how long they'd be occupied, what room they were in, and most importantly, how much money was being made. If anyone tried to skimp, or the Courtesan was hurt, it was up to him to catch it out and decide a punishment.
Not that there ever where such problems, of course. The threat of public mutilation and execution was enough to stop customers from doing anything untoward, and the Courtesans were happy enough to pay their dues. Occasionally, someone would try and skimp, but he always saw through and pulled the "I'm just doing what I'm told" card whenever someone complained. It worked surprisingly well.
Hunter and Aggrippa came to visit him. Agrippa was there solely to talk to him, often about his latest experiment or upgrade. He never looked twice at the multiple available women and the two available men, claiming "There are more important things in the world than pleasure."
Hunter, on the other hand, put her name down in the book several times in the week, often with a variety of Courtesans. The first time she came in, she booked five of them at the same time, and only smiled at Girus's stunned stare "What? Did you want to join in too?"
But all-in-all, things were going well. Every day Arabella went out to market, leaving the younger Seraph in charge whilst she was out. People would come in, come out, they'd make a shocking amount of Vehrin ("It's the tourists" Arabella told him once "People come from around the world to visit the Markets and Brothels of Orsini") and Arabella would come back, often with ten times the amount they had made. Girus would go to bed inside the Belladonna in a private room - although Arabella told him that the normal beds were perfectly clean, which was mostly true - and he'd get up the next day, wash himself sand say goodbye to his friend before setting up. But it couldn't last, and Girus found himself longing for Raelyn's return so he could go home. He started to miss the Pariahs, the Bastion, the groves. He'd had enough adventure for one year.
It was Atticus who demanded mercy from the greenskins. He disgusted Raelyn, a slimy little worm who did little more than whine and complain. It was almost a shame when the leader (Was it?) asked his troops to spare him - she would have been happy to see him go.
She didn't think the two dead men deserved their punishment. She didn't really know one of them, but the other had a wife and two kids. He had always been nice to have around, often bursting into song or telling jokes to lighten the mood. Now he was dead, and if the big creature (Was that an Orc? Or was it something different?) had its way, he would end up replacing the food they had stolen.
Thankfully, their leader was of a more mercantile mind, telling his troops to take them back to their leader rather than eat them. It at least gave her a chance to explain herself.
As they were forced to their feet, one of the orcs put his hand in a very, very taboo place - Raelyn's wing. It took every ounce of her not to knee him in the groin for his perversion, consoling herself with the fact that he just didn't know that was unacceptable. Still, she couldn't help but let out a curse in her home language "Get your filthy hands off me. I don't know where the hell they have been, but I can assure you, I don't want them on my wings"
Unfortunately, he didn't speak Orsini, or he didn't care enough to listen, and kept his hand on her wings, which got her thinking - what would the chieftain do when he saw them? Probably rape her and slaughter the rest, or spare them to get some amusement out of them later. She wouldn't put it past them. From what she had seen, that was probably how they spent their Saturday nights, just raping, pillaging and eating. Probably at the same time.
"You there, big one" she called to the Ogre "Tell this degenerate to let my wing go."
There was no further resistance. Even the proudest of Seraphim knows when a situation is hopeless, and they all just shut up and went through the motions. They had training for what to doing captured, probably even more training than Praetorians on this matter, as that was the risk they all had to take. This what they were meant to do. Betray nothing, endure everything. Surely it was better for one man to die than for the entire city to suffer for his loud mouth?
When Girus first walked into the Belladonna, Arabella thought he might just break down on the spot.
She could power every light in the place with the heat his cheeks were giving off alone, and he was shaking like a kicked dog in an earthquake. She knew he was shy, but she didn't know it was this bad. She started to doubt her choice, which was very, very rare.
A few days down the line, and he had almost completely changed. He was chatting happily to customers about pleasantries such as the weather and the embargo, which had hardly scathed Orsini at all, and the deep Vermillion colour of his face was had died down to a dull Persian pink - still miles away from its typical alabaster pallor, but enough to stop people from trying to make toast with him. Even his trembling had almost stopped, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the occasional twitch.
But he didn't move from behind the desk, and he had taken to binding his wings to stop them stiffening up in front of anyone, courtesan or customer alike. It was embarrassing enough to be seen in such a place - the last thing he wanted was for his wings to stand up straight behind him like a couple of custard-yellow, feathery soldiers.
In the midst of his colour maelstrom, he had a relatively simple job. Every time a courtesan was "hired", he had to take a note of who it was, the customer's name, how long they'd be occupied, what room they were in, and most importantly, how much money was being made. If anyone tried to skimp, or the Courtesan was hurt, it was up to him to catch it out and decide a punishment.
Not that there ever where such problems, of course. The threat of public mutilation and execution was enough to stop customers from doing anything untoward, and the Courtesans were happy enough to pay their dues. Occasionally, someone would try and skimp, but he always saw through and pulled the "I'm just doing what I'm told" card whenever someone complained. It worked surprisingly well.
Hunter and Aggrippa came to visit him. Agrippa was there solely to talk to him, often about his latest experiment or upgrade. He never looked twice at the multiple available women and the two available men, claiming "There are more important things in the world than pleasure."
Hunter, on the other hand, put her name down in the book several times in the week, often with a variety of Courtesans. The first time she came in, she booked five of them at the same time, and only smiled at Girus's stunned stare "What? Did you want to join in too?"
But all-in-all, things were going well. Every day Arabella went out to market, leaving the younger Seraph in charge whilst she was out. People would come in, come out, they'd make a shocking amount of Vehrin ("It's the tourists" Arabella told him once "People come from around the world to visit the Markets and Brothels of Orsini") and Arabella would come back, often with ten times the amount they had made. Girus would go to bed inside the Belladonna in a private room - although Arabella told him that the normal beds were perfectly clean, which was mostly true - and he'd get up the next day, wash himself sand say goodbye to his friend before setting up. But it couldn't last, and Girus found himself longing for Raelyn's return so he could go home. He started to miss the Pariahs, the Bastion, the groves. He'd had enough adventure for one year.
