Olethros

three - freyja

Even with my cloak wrapped tightly around myself, I shiver at the cold sensation of the Hewn City. The shadows in my vision ebbed. The alcohol had been more than I'd thought. When I'd meant to winnow to the market streets, I'd ended up in the alley of a residential neighborhood. One I'd walked through only once or twice as a child. It wasn't too far from the red district, but Cauldron knew if I was going the right way.

My body felt heavy, moving as though I walked through water. It felt as though my mind moved faster than my limbs. It'd been a while since I felt like this- I liked it. An amused grin made its way onto my face, a tingling sensation in my lips and cheeks. I could hear my breath, my pulse, the gravelly sounds of my slippers brushing over stones on the cobbled roads.

The faelights were dim, imitating the darkness of the night. As I walked past a collection of townhomes, my head tipped back to gaze at the the endless cavern above me. It felt like the buildings and businesses stretched beyond my eyesight. A small laugh left me as I stumbled backwards. My chin dipped, eyes squinting to see where I'd ended up.

The corner of the market street, turning onto the street of debauchery. This district was darker than the rest, full of taverns, gambling dens, and brothels. I wet my dry lips as I loosened my grip on the cloak and started forward. High Fae were all I saw: Crouched over a container of a spilled herb I was sure would have me flying, pressing each other against walls in moments of passion or violence. I knew it was foolish to be here alone; even drunk, I knew that.

It didn't matter if I wore a cloak of the poorest material. Someone would find reason to send a dagger through my chest just to see if my pockets held coin or drugs. I didn't feel fear, though. I felt determination to have a taste of the pleasure I heard of so often. It would be a reward in every way: Feel the pleasure I've dreamt of, while ruining my father's chances of selling me to the highest bidder. I had no doubt it would be the Spring Court.

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, almost giggling at the way it tingled. My head swung from left to right to observe each act I saw. I was almost surprised to see that not one person hid what they were doing. Not the male's with their hands beneath a female's bunched gown, nor the ones that held another by the throat while he searched his pockets for coin. I hadn't seen death, but I could smell the sweet tang of blood and sweat.

"How much for the night?" A gruff voice asked from behind me. I stumbled over myself in a hurry to turn. My first bidder. He was shockingly handsome, or so my drunken mind told me. Maybe he wasn't, but it didn't matter. He had pale hair, nearly white. A strong jaw dusted with a few days of scruff. I thought he may have pretty green eyes, but it could've been the glow of the faelight that bobbed closer. It'd be perfect. He would remain unknown to me, to my father, and his life wouldn't be sacrificed for my freedom.

"That's to be determined," I murmured, doing my best not to slur my words. I don't think he would mind if I did. There were no morals here. His thin lips curved up in a devious grin.

"Come with me, then."

I did as told and was surprised to find no fear in my chest. This male had yet to see my face or the shape of my body, just simply knew I was female and that was enough. I found that strange, but I knew it was rare for there to be any need for attraction when it came to needing release.

What I wasn't expecting was for his hands to find their way to my back. Lower. A gasp left me as a large hand smacked me through the thick cloak, my head whipping towards him. His eyes were glazed and hooded as he grinned down at me. Was that common?

He led me into a dim townhouse, one that certainly didn't belong to him. There was a thick musk of arousal and sweat, echoing moans and cries of pleasure. Mother, it nearly sounded like they were in pain. I felt my pulse quicken as his arm hooked around my back and led me through a doorway. I was grateful for the alcohol in my system as I gazed at the small, ancient looking wooden bed. Would we both fit on that?