It had always been rare for Stella to be attracted to or interested in men (or women for that matter). After Sylvia, Stella had never found herself interested in another person, partially because of her high standards but also because she made a point of not looking. She believed that if she wanted someone, no matter who they were, she could have them (at least for a night). But she didn't look for such things in her life. She got enough social interaction out of crap like this and by selling sex; she didn't need romance.
Jesting like this was always fun, however. Harmless banter was one of those things that she didn't get a whole lot of, so she took advantage whenever she could. She grinned at the boy until he swept off to the curtain, peering around behind it while Stella sat on the stool, crossing her legs one over the other and dusting off one of her boots as she focused her attention on the shuffling from behind the curtain. Kenny found his way back through the curtain carrying something, followed by a large woman, plump and laden with child. Stella stood immediately, not making any effort to hide her rude stare.
The woman was attractive, despite the terrible bulge in her belly and drops of sweat or steam upon her brow. She had dark lips and darker hair, and moved with a combination of grace and gawkiness, her condition making her movements both bumbling and charming. Stella didn't blink as the woman grabbed Kenny's hand, but her mind spun while she tried to figure the mechanics of their relationship from the information she had gathered from ten seconds. The knowledge that food was in the tureen and the smell and steam rising from it distracted her though, and she took an involuntary step forward as steps thunked from above.
Stella didn't move her eyes off of the woman, called Udorl, even as her name was mentioned. A prickly feeling came over her and she forced a smile as Kenny introduced them. Their social gestures toward one another were difficult for her to read, and it made her uncomfortable. The woman felt it necessary to introduce herself, and something about her tingled the back of Stella's neck; her fingers twitched and she caught herself starting to glare before she immediately offered a polite smile and nod of her head. She already could see that she didn't like this woman, though perhaps that was too immediate a judgment based on her clothing and overall appearance.
She still didn't take her eyes away from Udorl as Kenny spoke, standing up straight, her hand on her hip rather aggressively. She shifted her posture when she noticed this, and clasped her hands together in front of her Udorl seemed to size her up. Stella stared at the dark eyes of the woman as Kenny interrupted, blinking only when he had asked her a question. Finally she turned from Udorl and slipped her hair over one shoulder. "If I may, it migh' be a better idea fer me ter sit with Flossie, due to space," she said.
She flitted her eyes momentarily to Udorl, then to the tureen. She swallowed.
Catch of the Day
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Through Stella's posturing and eventual reply, Udorl smiled too sweetly and continued to dab at her dewy hairline. She accepted Kenny's hand to lead her to her seat at a small table. He steadied her shoulders as she lowered herself slowly into the little chair, though all the attention seemed slightly excessive given the merely moderate state of Udorl's pregnancy. She stroked the back of his thigh as she smiled her thanks up to him.
Kenny stepped away from her with some haste and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, darling, sit where you like," he said to Stella with an air of reluctant resignation and a wave of his hand at the tables available. "Really."
A thin, nervous sort of humming came up the stairs, to show itself as belonging to a pale wisp of a girl who slipped out from behind the curtain. She was weighed down with a large ceramic bowl of food cradled in both arms.
The girl was pale and appeared severely anemic. The edges of her nostrils and her eyelids were practically translucent and vaguely lavender in hue, and her white-blond hair was like a cloud of corn silk. The gray smock she wore contributed to the overall ashen color of her. The girl staggered to the table where the other bowl was and set hers down beside it.
Close behind her followed another, older woman. She appeared much hardier than the girl, despite the shabbiness of her appearance and the marks of old age she bore. This woman carried two plates of food, which were deposited alongside the others.
Altogether, there were four dishes of food. The largest was the tureen Kenny had carried in, a clear broth filled with streamers of collard greens. A few tips of the dark green ribbons broke the surface, where there floated a thin pool of fragrant oil and the woody bits of various spices. A few scraps of soft pork skin bobbed and vied for space on the surface.
The younger girl's dish was a starchy staple of the region, a thick, paste-like millet porridge. Stirred into this, for flavor, were mashed up bits of mudfish, the little anchovies that could be sifted out of the silt at the banks of the Ofriyu Mar. The spoon stuck into the porridge stood straight up with its handle pointing at the ceiling.
The older woman had brought up a plate piled high with fried chickpeas, each bean freckled with paprika and tinged with a crescent of golden brown where it had made contact with the pan. Dark red, leathery hot peppers wove here and there through the pile. The last dish was a cold salad of sliced strawberries and fiddlehead ferns soaked in molasses and vinegar.
The older woman sat down at a different table and offered Stella little more than a nod of acknowledgment as she began to pick at her teeth. The younger girl peered anxiously at Stella as she leaned over the pot of pork and greens. She used a ladle to skim out bits of clove and star anise from the broth, but managed to be mostly ineffective, as her attention was thus divided.
"Stella? Otter, and Davrib." Kenny indicated the younger and then the older, respectively, as he offered introductions.
"Hiiii," Otter sighed almost inaudibly. She finally turned her attention fully to the task of skimming the soup. Davrib continued to pick her teeth, but smiled through her task. Nearly half of her visible teeth were gold or silver.
From above, there sounded a loud smack and a giggle that sounded like a man's. Kenny raised his eyebrows at Stella and rolled his eyes in the direction of the curtain. "Be right back--plates."
He disappeared downstairs again. Udorl sat by passively, her hands folded neatly on top of her stomach as she eyed the food. Otter kept throwing curious glances in Stella's direction.
Kenny stepped away from her with some haste and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, darling, sit where you like," he said to Stella with an air of reluctant resignation and a wave of his hand at the tables available. "Really."
A thin, nervous sort of humming came up the stairs, to show itself as belonging to a pale wisp of a girl who slipped out from behind the curtain. She was weighed down with a large ceramic bowl of food cradled in both arms.
The girl was pale and appeared severely anemic. The edges of her nostrils and her eyelids were practically translucent and vaguely lavender in hue, and her white-blond hair was like a cloud of corn silk. The gray smock she wore contributed to the overall ashen color of her. The girl staggered to the table where the other bowl was and set hers down beside it.
Close behind her followed another, older woman. She appeared much hardier than the girl, despite the shabbiness of her appearance and the marks of old age she bore. This woman carried two plates of food, which were deposited alongside the others.
Altogether, there were four dishes of food. The largest was the tureen Kenny had carried in, a clear broth filled with streamers of collard greens. A few tips of the dark green ribbons broke the surface, where there floated a thin pool of fragrant oil and the woody bits of various spices. A few scraps of soft pork skin bobbed and vied for space on the surface.
The younger girl's dish was a starchy staple of the region, a thick, paste-like millet porridge. Stirred into this, for flavor, were mashed up bits of mudfish, the little anchovies that could be sifted out of the silt at the banks of the Ofriyu Mar. The spoon stuck into the porridge stood straight up with its handle pointing at the ceiling.
The older woman had brought up a plate piled high with fried chickpeas, each bean freckled with paprika and tinged with a crescent of golden brown where it had made contact with the pan. Dark red, leathery hot peppers wove here and there through the pile. The last dish was a cold salad of sliced strawberries and fiddlehead ferns soaked in molasses and vinegar.
The older woman sat down at a different table and offered Stella little more than a nod of acknowledgment as she began to pick at her teeth. The younger girl peered anxiously at Stella as she leaned over the pot of pork and greens. She used a ladle to skim out bits of clove and star anise from the broth, but managed to be mostly ineffective, as her attention was thus divided.
"Stella? Otter, and Davrib." Kenny indicated the younger and then the older, respectively, as he offered introductions.
"Hiiii," Otter sighed almost inaudibly. She finally turned her attention fully to the task of skimming the soup. Davrib continued to pick her teeth, but smiled through her task. Nearly half of her visible teeth were gold or silver.
From above, there sounded a loud smack and a giggle that sounded like a man's. Kenny raised his eyebrows at Stella and rolled his eyes in the direction of the curtain. "Be right back--plates."
He disappeared downstairs again. Udorl sat by passively, her hands folded neatly on top of her stomach as she eyed the food. Otter kept throwing curious glances in Stella's direction.
Re: Catch of the Day
Sister-in-law. Riiight.
She certainly didn't treat Kenny much like they were family by marriage. Her little affectionate actions did not go unnoticed by an overly-observant Stella, who felt mildly disgusted just by being in the same room with the woman. Udorl didn't seem so horrible awful, but Stella had very little patience with women, and didn't really know how long she'd be able to stand her presence before she just got up and left. Food and the warmth of the building were all that was holding her in place, not just the physical warmth but also the warmth of her conversation with Kenny and the character of the room. Stella's eyes flashed once more to Udorl icily. She sat at a seat at the other table where she didn't have to look directly at Udorl while she ate, and could obscure her expressions from her by pulling her hair over her shoulder to hide her face.
Stella absently picked at her fingernails and avoided the gaze of both Kenny and Udorl until a tiny twig of a girl walked in front of her and set a second bowl of food beside the tureen. A longing swallow was the only real acknowledgement she made to the girl. She was so small and sickly-looking that Stella was almost sure that just looking at her could shatter her spirits at any moment. Certainly, one kick from her heeled boot would break her in half. The whore forced back a morbid snigger, pretending to wipe her nose.
A second woman, much older, heavier, and worth remembering (in Stella's mind) than the toothpick girl, walked into the room carrying two dishes. As she set them down, Stella was not shy in fanning the scents of the dishes into her face and inhaling, savoring each flavor and grinning. She was not expecting anything fancy or wonderful, and this honestly looked like neither, but she had always been interestingly thankful for food she received. Probably because she had lived periods of her life when she had very little of it.
Once more it was Kenny who did the introductions, and Stella did not bother to speak. Instead she merely glanced at Otter and then Davrib, offering each a small nod in turn. She had never been good at being polite, probably because she rarely had much need for manners.
Thus, she grew relatively anxious when Kenny once more darted behind the curtain, and looked at its wavering fabric with a weird kind of worry. She looked back at the food and twiddled her thumbs with a nervous tension, and looked up and over at Otter when she felt those weird little eyes on her. Her lip twitched and she decided to address Davrib instead. "Food looks good," she mentioned, more to break the silence than anything (or rather to break the sound of Davrib picking her teeth).
"Hope yae don' mind me stealin' sum," she offered with a small smile.
She certainly didn't treat Kenny much like they were family by marriage. Her little affectionate actions did not go unnoticed by an overly-observant Stella, who felt mildly disgusted just by being in the same room with the woman. Udorl didn't seem so horrible awful, but Stella had very little patience with women, and didn't really know how long she'd be able to stand her presence before she just got up and left. Food and the warmth of the building were all that was holding her in place, not just the physical warmth but also the warmth of her conversation with Kenny and the character of the room. Stella's eyes flashed once more to Udorl icily. She sat at a seat at the other table where she didn't have to look directly at Udorl while she ate, and could obscure her expressions from her by pulling her hair over her shoulder to hide her face.
Stella absently picked at her fingernails and avoided the gaze of both Kenny and Udorl until a tiny twig of a girl walked in front of her and set a second bowl of food beside the tureen. A longing swallow was the only real acknowledgement she made to the girl. She was so small and sickly-looking that Stella was almost sure that just looking at her could shatter her spirits at any moment. Certainly, one kick from her heeled boot would break her in half. The whore forced back a morbid snigger, pretending to wipe her nose.
A second woman, much older, heavier, and worth remembering (in Stella's mind) than the toothpick girl, walked into the room carrying two dishes. As she set them down, Stella was not shy in fanning the scents of the dishes into her face and inhaling, savoring each flavor and grinning. She was not expecting anything fancy or wonderful, and this honestly looked like neither, but she had always been interestingly thankful for food she received. Probably because she had lived periods of her life when she had very little of it.
Once more it was Kenny who did the introductions, and Stella did not bother to speak. Instead she merely glanced at Otter and then Davrib, offering each a small nod in turn. She had never been good at being polite, probably because she rarely had much need for manners.
Thus, she grew relatively anxious when Kenny once more darted behind the curtain, and looked at its wavering fabric with a weird kind of worry. She looked back at the food and twiddled her thumbs with a nervous tension, and looked up and over at Otter when she felt those weird little eyes on her. Her lip twitched and she decided to address Davrib instead. "Food looks good," she mentioned, more to break the silence than anything (or rather to break the sound of Davrib picking her teeth).
"Hope yae don' mind me stealin' sum," she offered with a small smile.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
As soon as Stella looked her way, Otter inhaled sharply and turned her eyes back to her work of skimming the soup. She deposited the bits of spices on the edge of the table as she removed them, and they sat steaming in their weak little puddles.
After Stella spoke up, Davrib finally lowered her hand from her mouth. She produced a loud sucking noise as she ran her tongue over her teeth slowly. For a moment, she looked over at Udorl, who was busy inspecting the ends of her hair and smiling, and didn't seem to pick up on Stella's nasty looks. By the sharp look Davrib gave Stella, however, it seemed the old woman had picked up on this.
"A. . . friend of Flosmarra's, so you are?" Her voice was gravelly and accented; there was a certain darkness to her "r"s. "Then by all means, you are welgome do it." She indicated the meager spread with a wave of her hand. "Flossie's friends mean so much do her. Anybody who helps geep up the spirits of our sunflower--" From above, there was another smacking noise, and a muffled whimper--"is a welgome guest." The hag patted the small chair beside her own in invitation for Stella to sit down.
Moments later, Kenny returned, with several ceramic plates in each hand, and a pile of silverware atop each stack. He handed these to Otter to distribute, along with some small wooden bowls, and sat down across from Udorl. He flinched and pulled his seat to the side a bit when he was kicked under the table. Otter nearly dropped a fork in Stella's lap, so startled was she by the sound of Kenny's chair scraping on the floor.
By the sound of the goings on upstairs, Flossie was still in the middle of whatever she was doing. The curtain at the back of the room was pushed aside again, however, and this time a young man emerged. He looked to be somewhat older than Kenny, probably closer in age to Stella. He was perhaps only an inch taller than Kenny, but of slightly broader build. His eyes were lighter than Kenny's, grayer, and showing signs of age or stress around the edges, though he couldn't be older than 25.
Otter, having decided the soup was sufficiently free of debris, did not hesitate to start serving herself. Despite the segregated seating in this household, there didn't appear to be a hierarchy applied to the order of eating.
Kenny took Udorl's bowl and ladled some soup up for her, taking care to add the largest chunks of pork he could search out. Udorl, meanwhile, smiled moonily at her husband, who nodded wearily at her.
"Madaftren," he said as he approached Stella and offered a hand to shake. He seemed humbler than one might expect from the apparent head of household, not meek, exactly, but certainly less self-assured than his brother.
"Mads." Otter piped up to supplement Madaftren's nickname. She squeaked when she realized she had spoken aloud, and quickly stuffed a spoonful of millet into her mouth.
"Uh, please make yourself at home. . ." he said, with a resigned wave of his hand. He had the hollow tone one might expect from a man subjected to marriage to such a hussy.
The two brothers and the wife--who seemed to be common property, whether Mads was aware of it or not--set to eating quietly at their table. They seemed accustomed to the silence.
Otter, however, seemed on edge, twitching at intervals and throwing her restless gaze all around. Finally, after Davrib made a particularly noisy slurp of her soup, Otter felt comfortable breaking the silence. "Laik, you're really purty, far a working gur," she whispered.
After Stella spoke up, Davrib finally lowered her hand from her mouth. She produced a loud sucking noise as she ran her tongue over her teeth slowly. For a moment, she looked over at Udorl, who was busy inspecting the ends of her hair and smiling, and didn't seem to pick up on Stella's nasty looks. By the sharp look Davrib gave Stella, however, it seemed the old woman had picked up on this.
"A. . . friend of Flosmarra's, so you are?" Her voice was gravelly and accented; there was a certain darkness to her "r"s. "Then by all means, you are welgome do it." She indicated the meager spread with a wave of her hand. "Flossie's friends mean so much do her. Anybody who helps geep up the spirits of our sunflower--" From above, there was another smacking noise, and a muffled whimper--"is a welgome guest." The hag patted the small chair beside her own in invitation for Stella to sit down.
Moments later, Kenny returned, with several ceramic plates in each hand, and a pile of silverware atop each stack. He handed these to Otter to distribute, along with some small wooden bowls, and sat down across from Udorl. He flinched and pulled his seat to the side a bit when he was kicked under the table. Otter nearly dropped a fork in Stella's lap, so startled was she by the sound of Kenny's chair scraping on the floor.
By the sound of the goings on upstairs, Flossie was still in the middle of whatever she was doing. The curtain at the back of the room was pushed aside again, however, and this time a young man emerged. He looked to be somewhat older than Kenny, probably closer in age to Stella. He was perhaps only an inch taller than Kenny, but of slightly broader build. His eyes were lighter than Kenny's, grayer, and showing signs of age or stress around the edges, though he couldn't be older than 25.
Otter, having decided the soup was sufficiently free of debris, did not hesitate to start serving herself. Despite the segregated seating in this household, there didn't appear to be a hierarchy applied to the order of eating.
Kenny took Udorl's bowl and ladled some soup up for her, taking care to add the largest chunks of pork he could search out. Udorl, meanwhile, smiled moonily at her husband, who nodded wearily at her.
"Madaftren," he said as he approached Stella and offered a hand to shake. He seemed humbler than one might expect from the apparent head of household, not meek, exactly, but certainly less self-assured than his brother.
"Mads." Otter piped up to supplement Madaftren's nickname. She squeaked when she realized she had spoken aloud, and quickly stuffed a spoonful of millet into her mouth.
"Uh, please make yourself at home. . ." he said, with a resigned wave of his hand. He had the hollow tone one might expect from a man subjected to marriage to such a hussy.
The two brothers and the wife--who seemed to be common property, whether Mads was aware of it or not--set to eating quietly at their table. They seemed accustomed to the silence.
Otter, however, seemed on edge, twitching at intervals and throwing her restless gaze all around. Finally, after Davrib made a particularly noisy slurp of her soup, Otter felt comfortable breaking the silence. "Laik, you're really purty, far a working gur," she whispered.
Re: Catch of the Day
Stella raised a brow at Davrib as she made a less than attractive sound with her tongue against her teeth, then adopted a polite smile and tried to look relaxed. She felt more than just out of place at the table, but was willing to deal with just about anything if it meant access to food. She nodded slowly as the woman suggested her relation with Flossie, though she would hardly consider herself a friend of anyone in this house. The voice of Davrib was rich and harsh with experience and a sort of bluntness that Stella respected, despite her wariness.
She bit her lip as another noise sounded from upstairs, a noise that she recognized all-too-well and decided to ignore. Stella chose the seat that Davrib had guided her to, carefully fitting her dress beneath her, as if pretending to be a modest woman. The bar boy didn't take long to return to them with a pile of clean dishes and eating utensils. The smell of the food taunted her while she watched Otter with perhaps too-eager eyes as the girl handed one of each type to everyone, a bowl, plate, and set of silverware.
The moment she was handed these things, she didn't hesitate to push her chair forward and lean over the table to reach the bowl of the paste-looking stuff. She didn't know what it was and frankly didn't care. She scooped a large portion of the porridge out and plopped it onto her plate; it too, made an unattractive sound as she did this. She set the bowl back down and moved onto the salad, ignoring the man who walked in, so distracted was she. When she was finished with that she made a move toward the chickpeas and suddenly realized there was a hand sticking out to greet her.
She looked at him, taken aback by his oddly gentlemanly action, something she wasn't accustomed to. She blinked. "Stella," she said back, and shook his hand, stiffer and more forceful than she had intended. Madaftren, apparently known as Mads, seemed strangely elegant, yet had an air of exhaustion around him, perhaps intensified by the hardened lines of his face and dulled eyes. Maybe it was merely submission that she had caught.
There was a return to silence as Stella finished serving herself and passed each dish of food. She ate noisily, though not as obnoxiously as Davrib. It appeared that she had abandoned any need for modesty or politeness. The feigned sense of dignity she carried was quickly stamped out as she slurped most of her food and barely chewed, eating so quickly that her stomach made an audible lurching sound in protest. She was interrupted by Otter's random compliment. Stella received many compliments, although they generally weren't very flattering. Somehow the sincerity behind the girl's softened words teased at whatever kindness she had left in her, though she made no effort to let this show.
She had a bit of millet on her face, so she wiped it away with the back of her hand before she spoke. "S'really the onleh reas'n ah'm still werkin'," she shrugged. She didn't know how to say thank you, or how to even accept anything like that. It didn't take her long to return to slurping what was left of her soup.
She bit her lip as another noise sounded from upstairs, a noise that she recognized all-too-well and decided to ignore. Stella chose the seat that Davrib had guided her to, carefully fitting her dress beneath her, as if pretending to be a modest woman. The bar boy didn't take long to return to them with a pile of clean dishes and eating utensils. The smell of the food taunted her while she watched Otter with perhaps too-eager eyes as the girl handed one of each type to everyone, a bowl, plate, and set of silverware.
The moment she was handed these things, she didn't hesitate to push her chair forward and lean over the table to reach the bowl of the paste-looking stuff. She didn't know what it was and frankly didn't care. She scooped a large portion of the porridge out and plopped it onto her plate; it too, made an unattractive sound as she did this. She set the bowl back down and moved onto the salad, ignoring the man who walked in, so distracted was she. When she was finished with that she made a move toward the chickpeas and suddenly realized there was a hand sticking out to greet her.
She looked at him, taken aback by his oddly gentlemanly action, something she wasn't accustomed to. She blinked. "Stella," she said back, and shook his hand, stiffer and more forceful than she had intended. Madaftren, apparently known as Mads, seemed strangely elegant, yet had an air of exhaustion around him, perhaps intensified by the hardened lines of his face and dulled eyes. Maybe it was merely submission that she had caught.
There was a return to silence as Stella finished serving herself and passed each dish of food. She ate noisily, though not as obnoxiously as Davrib. It appeared that she had abandoned any need for modesty or politeness. The feigned sense of dignity she carried was quickly stamped out as she slurped most of her food and barely chewed, eating so quickly that her stomach made an audible lurching sound in protest. She was interrupted by Otter's random compliment. Stella received many compliments, although they generally weren't very flattering. Somehow the sincerity behind the girl's softened words teased at whatever kindness she had left in her, though she made no effort to let this show.
She had a bit of millet on her face, so she wiped it away with the back of her hand before she spoke. "S'really the onleh reas'n ah'm still werkin'," she shrugged. She didn't know how to say thank you, or how to even accept anything like that. It didn't take her long to return to slurping what was left of her soup.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Otter rolled a chickpea around in her mouth as she nodded solemnly to Stella's reply. Her gray smock sagged beneath her slumped shoulders, and inside it she looked even smaller than her actual size. Otter, for one, was still in the business in part because she could look about eleven years old, at eighteen.
Davrib scratched at her chin and gave Stella a sideways, appraising glance. At least one coarse, black hair was visible sprouting from the fleshy skin beneath her chin--as if her dye job didn't give itself away already. "We all have our dalents," she affirmed. Otter and Davrib's talents were perhaps slightly skewed off the mainstream.
At the other table, Udorl's talent appeared to be to throw amorous glances at any and every stimulus in her path. She was downright coy with eating her salad and requiring much cajoling from Kenny and her husband for each bite. She might as well have been a virgin to salad. The flirtatious atmosphere seemed either lost on Mads, or else simply stale.
Presently, Flossie came out from behind the curtain at the back of the room. She was wrapped in a thin, pinkish dressing gown. The toes of the shiny black boots she wore peeked out at the hem, the only exposed view of the tight, stiff outfit she seemed to be wearing under her robe. As she made her way over to the dinner table, she used the ratty sleeve of her robe to rub off the remnants of some rouge on her lower lip.
Kenny, Udorl, and Mads lifted their eyes and nodded acknowledgment to Flossie. Flossie gave Stella a wide, squinting smile and came to sit with the other working girls. "He's sleeping." She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she sat down. Davrib looped her left arm over the back of Flossie's chair.
The old woman laughed and patted Flossie's shoulder firmly. "Not a lick of stamina, that squirrel," she announced more loudly than was probably necessary. "You weren't home, darling, and he dried do make his bed with this old hag. I dold him I gannot accept a dwig that should snap under the weight of my thigh!" Even Otter giggled a bit, a sound like a shiver and a gasp.
Flossie began to serve herself some soup, and she shook her head while grinning. "Unfartunately, he's held together jest fain." With her chin tilted down towards her plate, she glanced upward to Stella. "Eh, Stella? The titchy ones are the wurs, aren' they?" She was clearly making an effort to include their guest in the conversation.
Davrib scratched at her chin and gave Stella a sideways, appraising glance. At least one coarse, black hair was visible sprouting from the fleshy skin beneath her chin--as if her dye job didn't give itself away already. "We all have our dalents," she affirmed. Otter and Davrib's talents were perhaps slightly skewed off the mainstream.
At the other table, Udorl's talent appeared to be to throw amorous glances at any and every stimulus in her path. She was downright coy with eating her salad and requiring much cajoling from Kenny and her husband for each bite. She might as well have been a virgin to salad. The flirtatious atmosphere seemed either lost on Mads, or else simply stale.
Presently, Flossie came out from behind the curtain at the back of the room. She was wrapped in a thin, pinkish dressing gown. The toes of the shiny black boots she wore peeked out at the hem, the only exposed view of the tight, stiff outfit she seemed to be wearing under her robe. As she made her way over to the dinner table, she used the ratty sleeve of her robe to rub off the remnants of some rouge on her lower lip.
Kenny, Udorl, and Mads lifted their eyes and nodded acknowledgment to Flossie. Flossie gave Stella a wide, squinting smile and came to sit with the other working girls. "He's sleeping." She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she sat down. Davrib looped her left arm over the back of Flossie's chair.
The old woman laughed and patted Flossie's shoulder firmly. "Not a lick of stamina, that squirrel," she announced more loudly than was probably necessary. "You weren't home, darling, and he dried do make his bed with this old hag. I dold him I gannot accept a dwig that should snap under the weight of my thigh!" Even Otter giggled a bit, a sound like a shiver and a gasp.
Flossie began to serve herself some soup, and she shook her head while grinning. "Unfartunately, he's held together jest fain." With her chin tilted down towards her plate, she glanced upward to Stella. "Eh, Stella? The titchy ones are the wurs, aren' they?" She was clearly making an effort to include their guest in the conversation.
Re: Catch of the Day
It was Davrib's comment that made her sport a sly grin, an expression that neither of them would fully understand despite their experiences. Stella was, at the very least, pretty. She had once been beautiful before she had lost most of her self-respect and when she had still been fairly intelligent for her age. Now she was uneducated, and it was not just her attractive appearance that allowed her to stay in business; it was also her nasty little ways of playing with her clients. She was violent and controlling, two things she tended to project through her many pointless sexual encounters with customers. Men were freaks. Men liked this.
Talents indeed.
Stella shot a few glances at the other table and nearly choked on a slimy piece of... some type of cabbage or other miscellaneous vegetable. Pregnancy had long disgusted her, almost entirely because of some vague jealousy pushed to the back of her dark mind. This woman, Udorl, there was something terribly false and helpless about her that made the dark-haired whore want to do something bad to her, like push the pointed heel of her boot into her--
Flossie appeared. Stella shifted; she had accidentally driven her elbow into her fork.
She gave a small, fake smile to Flosmarra, an expression made more convincing by an intentional lift of her eyes. She chewed on a chickpea while Davrib spoke, swallowed, and then exclaimed with an upbeat, "Hah!" She swallowed another mouthful of porridge before responding to Flossie. "I've nevar 'ad much a problehm," she admitted. She might have included something about preferring the squirrelly over the large and burly, because they were easier to subdue and tie down, but she did not offer this to the conversation.
Actually, thinking about it churned her stomach. Her eyes flicked briefly to Mads, her brow furrowed, and she returned to speed-eating.
Flossie knew about her. There was no other explanation for her being here. So far there had not been enough tension to scatter whatever joke of sanity she clung to, but she had no want to stay here longer than she had to. They would return her to her proper owner, she was sure.
She did not trust these people.
Talents indeed.
Stella shot a few glances at the other table and nearly choked on a slimy piece of... some type of cabbage or other miscellaneous vegetable. Pregnancy had long disgusted her, almost entirely because of some vague jealousy pushed to the back of her dark mind. This woman, Udorl, there was something terribly false and helpless about her that made the dark-haired whore want to do something bad to her, like push the pointed heel of her boot into her--
Flossie appeared. Stella shifted; she had accidentally driven her elbow into her fork.
She gave a small, fake smile to Flosmarra, an expression made more convincing by an intentional lift of her eyes. She chewed on a chickpea while Davrib spoke, swallowed, and then exclaimed with an upbeat, "Hah!" She swallowed another mouthful of porridge before responding to Flossie. "I've nevar 'ad much a problehm," she admitted. She might have included something about preferring the squirrelly over the large and burly, because they were easier to subdue and tie down, but she did not offer this to the conversation.
Actually, thinking about it churned her stomach. Her eyes flicked briefly to Mads, her brow furrowed, and she returned to speed-eating.
Flossie knew about her. There was no other explanation for her being here. So far there had not been enough tension to scatter whatever joke of sanity she clung to, but she had no want to stay here longer than she had to. They would return her to her proper owner, she was sure.
She did not trust these people.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Flossie yawned and rubbed a sore spot between her shoulder blades as she overlooked Davrib filling up a plate for her. The ray of her warm smile meandered towards Stella and she nodded at what the girl had said, kind but tired, and lacking the energy to interpret it as anything but small talk.
Mads got up from his seat with an abruptness that was all the more jarring because of the otherwise silent atmosphere at his table. He looked at the prostitutes for a moment and then walked to the bar. "Can I. . . get anything? For anyone?" His gaze lingered on the whores' table longer than his own.
He picked up one of the empty glasses left behind by Stella and Kenny, sniffed, and found the trace of brandy. "You?" He looked at Stella and paused as he recalled the name he'd just been given--"Stella?"
"None for me," interjected Kenny. He turned his face down towards his plate and set his full attention to his greens and fatback.
Flossie pointed to herself and nodded to Mads. "Sem part or sherry, dear, whatever we've gat," she simpered.
Mads glanced down a the shelf behind the bar. He seemed so weary as his gaze searched the bottles, flicked indecisively over both port and sherry. He looked back up at Stella expectantly.
Otter had finished scraping up the last bit of sour-sweet dressing with her spoon, and she sort of slithered out of her seat and stood up. Her already ashy-lavender lips were stained a darker shade of purple by molasses.
The wispy girl sidled up behind Stella and hardly had to lean over to whisper in her ear, "Kin Ai play with yur hair?" Her little fingers were cool and careful as she swept a large lock of hair back from Stella's temple. She released the hair and combed her fingertips a few more times along Stella's crown while she held he breath for an answer.
Mads got up from his seat with an abruptness that was all the more jarring because of the otherwise silent atmosphere at his table. He looked at the prostitutes for a moment and then walked to the bar. "Can I. . . get anything? For anyone?" His gaze lingered on the whores' table longer than his own.
He picked up one of the empty glasses left behind by Stella and Kenny, sniffed, and found the trace of brandy. "You?" He looked at Stella and paused as he recalled the name he'd just been given--"Stella?"
"None for me," interjected Kenny. He turned his face down towards his plate and set his full attention to his greens and fatback.
Flossie pointed to herself and nodded to Mads. "Sem part or sherry, dear, whatever we've gat," she simpered.
Mads glanced down a the shelf behind the bar. He seemed so weary as his gaze searched the bottles, flicked indecisively over both port and sherry. He looked back up at Stella expectantly.
Otter had finished scraping up the last bit of sour-sweet dressing with her spoon, and she sort of slithered out of her seat and stood up. Her already ashy-lavender lips were stained a darker shade of purple by molasses.
The wispy girl sidled up behind Stella and hardly had to lean over to whisper in her ear, "Kin Ai play with yur hair?" Her little fingers were cool and careful as she swept a large lock of hair back from Stella's temple. She released the hair and combed her fingertips a few more times along Stella's crown while she held he breath for an answer.
Re: Catch of the Day
When her plate and bowl were empty and she had scraped the last little remnants of soul and spiced whatsit with her fork and spoon, she peered around the table, being careful to avoid eye contact with anyone. Flossy's return, despite the woman's kind exterior, unnerved her. Although Kenny and she had joked about her stay here for the night, Stella had no intentions of staying any longer than she had to. She had eaten, she was energized, and the darkness would act as a good cover for her escape. That had been her plan all along, and though she had never really been one to do well with following structure, she knew that if she didn't stick to it this time, she would never get out. Flossy would most certainly return her to her real owner, either tonight or tomorrow morning. Stella couldn't let that happen.
She silently searched for an opening. Now that the tables had calmed (not that they were in an uproar before), it would be easier to run without having anybody stop her. A quick movement from Mads disoriented her for a moment and she pretended to be relaxing, folding her hands in her lap.
Mads spoke her name, holding the glass she had used earlier. She debated with herself internally for a moment before she smiled and nodded at the man. "Wouldn't mind a bit more o' brandy, if ya please," she grinned slightly. Any alcohol, from prior experience, she knew was a bad idea. But something to make her leg stop bouncing beneath the table would be nice, at the very least.
A question sounded in her ear and Stella felt her muscles tense briefly before she felt Otter slip her thin fingers over her hair. "Course.." she answered. Obviously, she had grown used to strangers touching her, but that didn't mean she liked it. It was the rare occurrence that someone was more careful and gentle when touching her in any way, and the change was welcomed. It was, strangely, impossible to resist letting someone play with her hair. It was something that made her feel almost special, wanted in a way so very different from what she was accustomed to.
The feeling lulled her, oddly. Her breathing slowed somewhat and she struggled to keep hold of what she was supposed to do, where she was supposed to go, why.
"Thank ye kindly fer the meal," she said to no one in particular, running her fingers along her other hand in her lap. Maybe it was a bad idea to try to eat and run.
She silently searched for an opening. Now that the tables had calmed (not that they were in an uproar before), it would be easier to run without having anybody stop her. A quick movement from Mads disoriented her for a moment and she pretended to be relaxing, folding her hands in her lap.
Mads spoke her name, holding the glass she had used earlier. She debated with herself internally for a moment before she smiled and nodded at the man. "Wouldn't mind a bit more o' brandy, if ya please," she grinned slightly. Any alcohol, from prior experience, she knew was a bad idea. But something to make her leg stop bouncing beneath the table would be nice, at the very least.
A question sounded in her ear and Stella felt her muscles tense briefly before she felt Otter slip her thin fingers over her hair. "Course.." she answered. Obviously, she had grown used to strangers touching her, but that didn't mean she liked it. It was the rare occurrence that someone was more careful and gentle when touching her in any way, and the change was welcomed. It was, strangely, impossible to resist letting someone play with her hair. It was something that made her feel almost special, wanted in a way so very different from what she was accustomed to.
The feeling lulled her, oddly. Her breathing slowed somewhat and she struggled to keep hold of what she was supposed to do, where she was supposed to go, why.
"Thank ye kindly fer the meal," she said to no one in particular, running her fingers along her other hand in her lap. Maybe it was a bad idea to try to eat and run.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 10:47 pm
- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Otter breathed in such a way that each inhale and exhale sounded conscious and careful. Her hands were so small that she could only barely gather Stella's hair into a ponytail within one fist. So she used her short fingernails to divide Stella's hair this way and that, weighing each hank in turn, twisting one way or the other. Eventually Otter settled on a preliminary course of action. At the back of Stella's head, she separated her locks just above her nape and held the large rope just up and out of the way with her left hand, then she ducked the fingers of her right hand beneath and began to finger-comb the hair at her nape to release the inevitable tangles of the day.
Presently, Mads rolled by their table with a sherry for Flossie and a brandy for Stella. Otter sighed happily as the glasses clinked down on the table. Flossie sipped her glass and passed it to Davrib. Mads paused and made eye contact with Otter over the top of Stella's head. He raised an eyebrow in questioning and pointed a knuckle at the glasses.
"Naw. You knaw it putts me rait to sleep, laik, Mads," she murmured as she focused on gently loosening a mess of fine hairs.
Kenny looked up from his table, where Udorl was dragging the tines of her fork softly over his knuckles. "You have work plans tonight, cuz?" he asked in Otter's direction.
"Em, yeah, laik the man frem the em, distillery? That'n, he kems every taim he makes a delivery dane at the. . . Split Tembler. . ." Otter trailed off as she combed a bit more of Stella's hair downward.
Kenny slipped his hand out from underneath Udorl's attentions and stood up from his chair. He dusted his hands off on the lap of his trousers as he got down to discussing business. "And ladies, other arrangements made yet?"
Flossie glanced over to Stella and gave a quick, small smile. "Sarry dear. Las' thing you want is to hear us talk shop." Still, she turned a stern eye on Otter and proceeded to do just that. "Mustn't farget, guny, Rake said he'd be back yet again tonight."
Otter murmured acknowledgment as she tiptoed her fingers up to the hairline above Stella's forehead to separate out locks for an intricate braid.
Davrib picked at her teeth and nodded to Kenny that she indeed expected a client later. She nudged Flossie in the rib and smiled through her dirty fignernails.
"Awf, Stella dear," she started, blinking rapidly as she worked out the awkward topic in her head. "You're my guest? We dun't require you to work far the night, that is? But. . . if you do have a caller coming. . . jest let Kenny knaw?"
Kenny rubbed his chin and made a great business of clattering his plate and bowl so that he could fairly be expected not to overhear the prostitutes' talk.
Presently, Mads rolled by their table with a sherry for Flossie and a brandy for Stella. Otter sighed happily as the glasses clinked down on the table. Flossie sipped her glass and passed it to Davrib. Mads paused and made eye contact with Otter over the top of Stella's head. He raised an eyebrow in questioning and pointed a knuckle at the glasses.
"Naw. You knaw it putts me rait to sleep, laik, Mads," she murmured as she focused on gently loosening a mess of fine hairs.
Kenny looked up from his table, where Udorl was dragging the tines of her fork softly over his knuckles. "You have work plans tonight, cuz?" he asked in Otter's direction.
"Em, yeah, laik the man frem the em, distillery? That'n, he kems every taim he makes a delivery dane at the. . . Split Tembler. . ." Otter trailed off as she combed a bit more of Stella's hair downward.
Kenny slipped his hand out from underneath Udorl's attentions and stood up from his chair. He dusted his hands off on the lap of his trousers as he got down to discussing business. "And ladies, other arrangements made yet?"
Flossie glanced over to Stella and gave a quick, small smile. "Sarry dear. Las' thing you want is to hear us talk shop." Still, she turned a stern eye on Otter and proceeded to do just that. "Mustn't farget, guny, Rake said he'd be back yet again tonight."
Otter murmured acknowledgment as she tiptoed her fingers up to the hairline above Stella's forehead to separate out locks for an intricate braid.
Davrib picked at her teeth and nodded to Kenny that she indeed expected a client later. She nudged Flossie in the rib and smiled through her dirty fignernails.
"Awf, Stella dear," she started, blinking rapidly as she worked out the awkward topic in her head. "You're my guest? We dun't require you to work far the night, that is? But. . . if you do have a caller coming. . . jest let Kenny knaw?"
Kenny rubbed his chin and made a great business of clattering his plate and bowl so that he could fairly be expected not to overhear the prostitutes' talk.
Re: Catch of the Day
The gentle calmness combined with the setting and gritty talk confused her subconscious. The cool touch of the girl's fingers against her hair and scalp was strangely mesmerizing, and it seemed as if there was little to be done about it. It was extremely rare for someone like Stella to ever feel relaxed, and yet, she sat so still and so quiet, and her mind had stopped humming as usual. Thoughts of running drifted slowly away from her as the sounds of the others merely waved along like elevator music. The heavy meal and the speed at which she had eaten made her uncharacteristically drowsy. It was only when the familiar clink of a glass against the table in front of her sounded that she blinked rapidly and regained a state of full awareness.
She looked up at Mads as he looked past her to the frail girl braiding her hair, then peered down at the glass, forgetting to nod in thanks as she reached down to grab and drink from it casually.
This was hardly a feeling she was used to, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. It felt almost as if she had been drugged at the meal, as she was now having trouble concentrating on anything for too long. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd been awake for some absurd amount of time, or maybe because of the day's work and her hurting throat from all the yelling. She had run, only to find herself stuck in a familiar situation. It didn't matter how pleasant any of these people seemed; she had learned the hard way not to trust anyone, and knew that all humans were capable of great evil.
She couldn't stay here. She couldn't.
And yet she hadn't the energy, or balls, to leave now.
Flossie talked an interestingly crude topic that Stella had honestly not expected her to bring up, at least for now. It seemed clear now; she knew that they had all known exactly what her trade was from the beginning, not like it was hard to guess. The real issue was that there was that real possibility that they also knew where she was from and that she wasn't supposed to be here.
Johnston would have her ass on a platter and her breasts nailed to a wall for this.
"Right," she answered simply, mostly because she didn't seem to have the ability to conjure up anything better. "Course," she added. She didn't want to tell them that she'd be leaving immediately in the morning, because, what if..
There were too many what ifs and she didn't like it. It made her nervous.
Now having to stay still for Otter to touch her hair felt almost painful. She shifted awkwardly in her seat and downed the rest of the brandy in the glass, then started to clink it gently, repeatedly against the wood table. Her eyes narrowed and she peered at Kenny, running her tongue over her teeth as she tried desperately to judge the situation she was in. She'd have to stay here tonight, but maybe she could find a way to get ahead in the morning.
They had to have some cash somewhere, maybe jewelry, other goods. She could work this place to her advantage, maybe. She'd just have to find a way.
She looked up at Mads as he looked past her to the frail girl braiding her hair, then peered down at the glass, forgetting to nod in thanks as she reached down to grab and drink from it casually.
This was hardly a feeling she was used to, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. It felt almost as if she had been drugged at the meal, as she was now having trouble concentrating on anything for too long. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd been awake for some absurd amount of time, or maybe because of the day's work and her hurting throat from all the yelling. She had run, only to find herself stuck in a familiar situation. It didn't matter how pleasant any of these people seemed; she had learned the hard way not to trust anyone, and knew that all humans were capable of great evil.
She couldn't stay here. She couldn't.
And yet she hadn't the energy, or balls, to leave now.
Flossie talked an interestingly crude topic that Stella had honestly not expected her to bring up, at least for now. It seemed clear now; she knew that they had all known exactly what her trade was from the beginning, not like it was hard to guess. The real issue was that there was that real possibility that they also knew where she was from and that she wasn't supposed to be here.
Johnston would have her ass on a platter and her breasts nailed to a wall for this.
"Right," she answered simply, mostly because she didn't seem to have the ability to conjure up anything better. "Course," she added. She didn't want to tell them that she'd be leaving immediately in the morning, because, what if..
There were too many what ifs and she didn't like it. It made her nervous.
Now having to stay still for Otter to touch her hair felt almost painful. She shifted awkwardly in her seat and downed the rest of the brandy in the glass, then started to clink it gently, repeatedly against the wood table. Her eyes narrowed and she peered at Kenny, running her tongue over her teeth as she tried desperately to judge the situation she was in. She'd have to stay here tonight, but maybe she could find a way to get ahead in the morning.
They had to have some cash somewhere, maybe jewelry, other goods. She could work this place to her advantage, maybe. She'd just have to find a way.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Stella was of course correct that Flossie knew, rather than suspected, her profession. While a bit of a homebody herself, she had eyes and ears all around the city. However, to the credit of ladies like Nen--that aloof, whispering elf quadroon from the market--those independent working girls didn't tend to report on things like who belonged to whom, since that wasn't a mindset they subscribed to. If Flossie's friend had indeed identified Stella as a brothel girl, she'd kept out the personal details, by habit or kindness.
The other girls, Otter and Davrib, didn't even think to question the nature of Stella's lifestyle. Sure, a working girl friend of Flossie's bunking up for the night. Davrib was too old for jealousy.
Madaftren was helping Udorl to her feet. He obliged when she crooned and pointed meekly in the direction of her needlepoint in the corner. They fetched her embroidery and disappeared to the downstairs with hardly a backwards glance at the others. While Kenny was just being polite pretending not to listen to the prostitutes' arrangements, Mads and Udorl really had nothing to do with the business. The girls, for their own part, looked away from the long glance Kenny and Udorl shared behind Madaftren's back.
"I've got no mar work tonait," Flossie said brightly. "We can play cards?" She even ventured to reach across the table to touch Stella's fingers where they wrapped around her glass.
Otter had started sneaking expectant glances at the door throughout her braiding. Davrib got up to help Kenny finish clearing the dishes. They seemed to have a fine relationship, as each played at getting in the other's way, elbowing each other in the ribs and hip-checking each other. For a 16-year-old pimp and the whore old enough to be his grandmother, they had figured out an amicable medium.
"Let's go upstairs, hm?" offered Flossie. She scooted her chair back and took her glass from the table.
If Stella was hoping to come away from the house with money she hadn't earned herself, she'd have to put some effort into it. First, Flossie seemed thoroughly without distraction, and second, there was no overt wealth around, to speak of. The money that came into the household through the ladies managed to disperse itself pretty effectively, between the feeding of several hungry mouths, their drinking habits, allowances for the working girls, Udorl's exotic tastes in consumables and imports, and of course the widow mother in Shim who lived peacefully removed from and unaware of the goings on in her boys' home. If anything of worth was to be found in the place, it'd be among Udorl's personal belongings.
The other girls, Otter and Davrib, didn't even think to question the nature of Stella's lifestyle. Sure, a working girl friend of Flossie's bunking up for the night. Davrib was too old for jealousy.
Madaftren was helping Udorl to her feet. He obliged when she crooned and pointed meekly in the direction of her needlepoint in the corner. They fetched her embroidery and disappeared to the downstairs with hardly a backwards glance at the others. While Kenny was just being polite pretending not to listen to the prostitutes' arrangements, Mads and Udorl really had nothing to do with the business. The girls, for their own part, looked away from the long glance Kenny and Udorl shared behind Madaftren's back.
"I've got no mar work tonait," Flossie said brightly. "We can play cards?" She even ventured to reach across the table to touch Stella's fingers where they wrapped around her glass.
Otter had started sneaking expectant glances at the door throughout her braiding. Davrib got up to help Kenny finish clearing the dishes. They seemed to have a fine relationship, as each played at getting in the other's way, elbowing each other in the ribs and hip-checking each other. For a 16-year-old pimp and the whore old enough to be his grandmother, they had figured out an amicable medium.
"Let's go upstairs, hm?" offered Flossie. She scooted her chair back and took her glass from the table.
If Stella was hoping to come away from the house with money she hadn't earned herself, she'd have to put some effort into it. First, Flossie seemed thoroughly without distraction, and second, there was no overt wealth around, to speak of. The money that came into the household through the ladies managed to disperse itself pretty effectively, between the feeding of several hungry mouths, their drinking habits, allowances for the working girls, Udorl's exotic tastes in consumables and imports, and of course the widow mother in Shim who lived peacefully removed from and unaware of the goings on in her boys' home. If anything of worth was to be found in the place, it'd be among Udorl's personal belongings.
Re: Catch of the Day
She, unlike the others, did not blatantly ignore the obvious goings-on between Kenny and Udorl, her eyes narrowing at them. She was disgusted by such behavior, not necessarily by their flirtations despite Madaftren, but more by the behavior in general. She had seen courtship, and post-courtship dances between people countless times on the streets. It was these dances which she and others of their trade often attempted to mimic and exaggerate with their clients. It was all about the play of making your partner, or client, feel special while simultaneously asking with body language for the same in return. She had seen a thousand careful exchanges like this, and the whole pointlessness to it almost made her angry. Perhaps it was just because she didn't understand, or maybe it was something like envy that engulfed her heated gaze.
The imagery of such things had made her unable to properly respond to Flossie until her hands were touched and she was kicked out of her little world of malice. Her hands twitched, but she didn't jump despite her fears of what exactly was to happen to her.
Without even thinking about it, she nodded with an, "Mm," to Flossie's suggestion and rose from her chair, the glass still grasped in her fingers. She pushed in her chair and made to follow Flossie, with an odd little look of intent on her face. Upstairs, she assumed, would give her the opportunity to scope the house for valuables in case she was right. She would leave them for good in the morning with whatever she could get ahold of, and hope to God they didn't expect anything. A sense of doom overshadowed her thoughts despite the relative calm in the room as she made to follow the woman.
The imagery of such things had made her unable to properly respond to Flossie until her hands were touched and she was kicked out of her little world of malice. Her hands twitched, but she didn't jump despite her fears of what exactly was to happen to her.
Without even thinking about it, she nodded with an, "Mm," to Flossie's suggestion and rose from her chair, the glass still grasped in her fingers. She pushed in her chair and made to follow Flossie, with an odd little look of intent on her face. Upstairs, she assumed, would give her the opportunity to scope the house for valuables in case she was right. She would leave them for good in the morning with whatever she could get ahold of, and hope to God they didn't expect anything. A sense of doom overshadowed her thoughts despite the relative calm in the room as she made to follow the woman.
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Dorcas Tansy
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- Posts: 243
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 10:47 pm
- Name: Dorcas Tansy
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Re: Catch of the Day
Otter let her fingers slip along the length of Stella's hair and graze the girl's back as she stood. Otter herself was by this point so distracted she hardly noticed and merely stepped back a little to allow Stella to walk away with the beginnings of braids at the crown of her head already starting to slither out of form.
Davrib and Kenny stood away from the table as Stella and Flossie rose to head for the stairs. Davrib's arms were loaded with smaller bowls and flatware, her bare forearms streaked with traces of spiced oil and molasses. Kenny held the nearly empty soup tureen, into which he'd piled the other serving vessels into a manageable one-trip delivery for the scullery below. It was a kindness that nobody reminded Flossie of her obligation, as the only girl without appointments, to handle the dishes this evening. Either a kindness or else a curiosity towards this Stella and a desire to indulge her in some hospitality.
Kenny leaned against the wall beside the stairs--the kitchen and master bedroom downstairs, the parlor above. The curtain that usually hung to obscure the landing had been pulled back and tied to allow freer access to and from the kitchen and small scullery during dinner. Flossie scooted by Kenny and gave him an affectionate pinch of his lower lip. Were his hands free, he still may not have reciprocated the physicality, for he appeared thus far to take a more hands-off approach to pimping.
As Flossie started up the stairs, she looked back at Stella. Stella's purposeful expression didn't quite register in Flossie's calm, pale eyes; in fact, she'd finished her drink quickly and was already missing such details.
Kenny, however, caught Stella's eye. He himself wore a look of determination as he leaned there, uselessly. His gaze was first directed in the direction of the stairs down which Udorl had disappeared. Then he turned his look to Stella, losing not a modicum of intensity in his dark eyes for the brief moment he stared at her. He looked up and away, and he was still a teenage boy, all awkward elbows and a blush of frustration along his jawline.
Flossie headed up the stairs to the parlor. The landing opened onto a modest sitting room with a long, worn couch, a few deep armchairs, and a small table thoroughly covered with a scattering of playing cards, dice, and other mundane knickknacks. The bottom-heavy woman plopped herself down in one of the armchairs and proceeded to pluck at the laces of the corset beneath her thin dressing gown. "Oof, dawn't ever nawtice it's so enkemfortable 'til I take it off!"
She made a face of exertion as she bent her arms to fiddle with the laces and slowly managed to loosen them. "D'you play Claret, dear?" The question was effectively rhetorical. Everyone who'd spent an evening in any tavern in Marn knew the card game. It was more of an invitation for Stella to gather the deck and deal, as Flossie's own hands were occupied.
Davrib and Kenny stood away from the table as Stella and Flossie rose to head for the stairs. Davrib's arms were loaded with smaller bowls and flatware, her bare forearms streaked with traces of spiced oil and molasses. Kenny held the nearly empty soup tureen, into which he'd piled the other serving vessels into a manageable one-trip delivery for the scullery below. It was a kindness that nobody reminded Flossie of her obligation, as the only girl without appointments, to handle the dishes this evening. Either a kindness or else a curiosity towards this Stella and a desire to indulge her in some hospitality.
Kenny leaned against the wall beside the stairs--the kitchen and master bedroom downstairs, the parlor above. The curtain that usually hung to obscure the landing had been pulled back and tied to allow freer access to and from the kitchen and small scullery during dinner. Flossie scooted by Kenny and gave him an affectionate pinch of his lower lip. Were his hands free, he still may not have reciprocated the physicality, for he appeared thus far to take a more hands-off approach to pimping.
As Flossie started up the stairs, she looked back at Stella. Stella's purposeful expression didn't quite register in Flossie's calm, pale eyes; in fact, she'd finished her drink quickly and was already missing such details.
Kenny, however, caught Stella's eye. He himself wore a look of determination as he leaned there, uselessly. His gaze was first directed in the direction of the stairs down which Udorl had disappeared. Then he turned his look to Stella, losing not a modicum of intensity in his dark eyes for the brief moment he stared at her. He looked up and away, and he was still a teenage boy, all awkward elbows and a blush of frustration along his jawline.
Flossie headed up the stairs to the parlor. The landing opened onto a modest sitting room with a long, worn couch, a few deep armchairs, and a small table thoroughly covered with a scattering of playing cards, dice, and other mundane knickknacks. The bottom-heavy woman plopped herself down in one of the armchairs and proceeded to pluck at the laces of the corset beneath her thin dressing gown. "Oof, dawn't ever nawtice it's so enkemfortable 'til I take it off!"
She made a face of exertion as she bent her arms to fiddle with the laces and slowly managed to loosen them. "D'you play Claret, dear?" The question was effectively rhetorical. Everyone who'd spent an evening in any tavern in Marn knew the card game. It was more of an invitation for Stella to gather the deck and deal, as Flossie's own hands were occupied.
Re: Catch of the Day
Stella moved to follow Flossie, and had already placed one foot on the stairs when she caught Kenny's gaze. The moment was so brief and yet so filled with a weird knowledge of one another that she pushed it off as meaningless, or tried to. She had spoken with him most and yet she hadn't really spoken to him at all, and he likely knew it, unless he really was that young and stupid.
There were too many strange and unspoken things in this house. Too many secrets and too much knowledge, but it was better than the fear and undying stupidity that she had become accustomed too. It was better than blindness and soulless women who, like her, had nothing else to look to for support. The brothels were families. Hers had just always been terrible, in one way or another.
They were in the parlor room before she could finish thinking about what she was going to do, and it was only then that she realized she was still clutching the glass in her fingers. She set it on a small end table near one of the armchairs, sneaking it there as if Flossie would be unhappy she had kept it until now. She awkwardly shuffled in front of the table and then sat in an armchair close to the plump woman's, too distracted to recognize the sounds of undoing laces, whisking against fabric.
When the game was mentioned, Stella finally seemed to break through her weird unreality, the awkward way in which she stared at everything and was more invested in the dirtied walls of the parlor than Flossie herself. She looked at the woman at last and nodded with a thin smile, leaning over the table to gather the cards of the deck and smooth them together into a compact pile. She shuffled them in the experienced way that most women who'd lived in brothels showed, and then dealt four small piles, two in front of each. The rest was dealt between two larger piles in front of each woman. Stella turned over a card in her pair of small piles when she was finished dealing.
"How long have you been here?" It was a question brought on by the fact that cards were always an opportunity to learn about the person you were playing, in more ways than one. Despite her seeming indifference to the people here, she had always been a curious creature. That, and the longer someone was here, she figured, the more likely they had some useful items stowed away somewhere.
There were too many strange and unspoken things in this house. Too many secrets and too much knowledge, but it was better than the fear and undying stupidity that she had become accustomed too. It was better than blindness and soulless women who, like her, had nothing else to look to for support. The brothels were families. Hers had just always been terrible, in one way or another.
They were in the parlor room before she could finish thinking about what she was going to do, and it was only then that she realized she was still clutching the glass in her fingers. She set it on a small end table near one of the armchairs, sneaking it there as if Flossie would be unhappy she had kept it until now. She awkwardly shuffled in front of the table and then sat in an armchair close to the plump woman's, too distracted to recognize the sounds of undoing laces, whisking against fabric.
When the game was mentioned, Stella finally seemed to break through her weird unreality, the awkward way in which she stared at everything and was more invested in the dirtied walls of the parlor than Flossie herself. She looked at the woman at last and nodded with a thin smile, leaning over the table to gather the cards of the deck and smooth them together into a compact pile. She shuffled them in the experienced way that most women who'd lived in brothels showed, and then dealt four small piles, two in front of each. The rest was dealt between two larger piles in front of each woman. Stella turned over a card in her pair of small piles when she was finished dealing.
"How long have you been here?" It was a question brought on by the fact that cards were always an opportunity to learn about the person you were playing, in more ways than one. Despite her seeming indifference to the people here, she had always been a curious creature. That, and the longer someone was here, she figured, the more likely they had some useful items stowed away somewhere.