Story!
Upon first glance, Corthal seemed like it could have at one time been a quaint, small village that housed a respectable if not backwater society. The cottages might have had a sort of charm years ago, squished together in clumps with a cracking cobblestone street in between, chimney stacks billowing out thick grey smoke into the overhanging oak trees.
Now, however, the town pressed in on travelers from the moment they entered it, the air thick with an unnamed, tingling feeling that made the hairs on Kumi's neck stand up.
The streets were bustling with at the largest assortment of people Kumi had ever seen. Kumi and Jahari felt simultaneously over- and undressed as they passed the port and into the village square. Throngs of tall, tan men and women milled around the waist-high well, dressed from head to toe in large dark robes, only their kohl-lined eyes visible. Pale, brawny men with scraggly beards and scarred faces stood by the docks, sneering at those who stared at their injuries for too long. Many a hooded figure shuffled in and out of nearby taverns, hiding their faces. And then, down towards the end of the road, near the taller cottages boasting torches with unnaturally red flames, Kumi saw them.
He nudged Jahari hard in the side and pointed unsubtly down at the women slinking around the edges of the cottages, casting inviting looks to passersby and wearing what Kumi could only consider to be strategically placed scraps of cloth. Not that they were doing much of any good; as potential customers walked by, the girls would hike up their makeshift skirts in invitation, just in case someone might’ve mistaken them for cooks or scullery maids.
“I think we should look around,” Jahari said, looking decidedly elsewhere as they approached the end of the street, passing by a wild-eyed man hawking a large array of expensive jewelry. Kumi thought he might’ve seen the Royal Adaerian crest on a sapphire broach.
“So, you think there could be more, uh…women…somewhere else?” Kumi asked just as they stopped outside of the doorway of one of the cottages. A girl who looked as though she could’ve been anywhere from fourteen to forty smiled toothlessly at him and lifted her skirt. Kumi jumped.
Jahari looked down at him. “Maybe. I mean, perhaps we should split up, just to see what else is around here.” Kumi was starting to agree with him; the toothless girl-woman aside, the other girls were showing far more interest in Jahari than they were in Kumi, approaching him with their hands already at the hem of their skirts.
“You military?” One of the girls asked in an accent similar to the people in the dark robes. She was shorter and rounder than the rest, but her heart-shaped face was bright and friendly. “We don’t get many Dánaidh around here…” She played with her long, dark plait as her eyes roamed over Jahari approvingly.
“Uh, yeah, we are,” Kumi said, attempting to push Jahari away, which Kumi realized was akin to shoving a bolder up a hill. “He was just leaving, though.” Jahari gave Kumi an amused grin, and then turned to walk back down the street.
“We’ll meet up in an hour at the well,” Jahari called, a teasing tone in his voice. “And compare notes.”
“Oh, where’s your friend going?” the girl asked, pouting. She dropped her plait and stared after Jahari’s hulking mass as he disappeared into the crowd, and the other women likewise turned from Kumi and resumed their catcalls to other passersby.
“To find some other…uh…whores.” Kumi replied helpfully.
She continued to watch after Jahari had gone, until Kumi cleared his throat significantly. The girl turned back to Kumi, and after looking him up and down appraisingly, introduced herself.“I’m Farihah.” She said, lifting her skirt in greeting. “You’re awfully scrawny for a Dánaidh, aren’t you?”
Kumi could feel his pride, among other things, shrinking.
Now, however, the town pressed in on travelers from the moment they entered it, the air thick with an unnamed, tingling feeling that made the hairs on Kumi's neck stand up.
The streets were bustling with at the largest assortment of people Kumi had ever seen. Kumi and Jahari felt simultaneously over- and undressed as they passed the port and into the village square. Throngs of tall, tan men and women milled around the waist-high well, dressed from head to toe in large dark robes, only their kohl-lined eyes visible. Pale, brawny men with scraggly beards and scarred faces stood by the docks, sneering at those who stared at their injuries for too long. Many a hooded figure shuffled in and out of nearby taverns, hiding their faces. And then, down towards the end of the road, near the taller cottages boasting torches with unnaturally red flames, Kumi saw them.
He nudged Jahari hard in the side and pointed unsubtly down at the women slinking around the edges of the cottages, casting inviting looks to passersby and wearing what Kumi could only consider to be strategically placed scraps of cloth. Not that they were doing much of any good; as potential customers walked by, the girls would hike up their makeshift skirts in invitation, just in case someone might’ve mistaken them for cooks or scullery maids.
“I think we should look around,” Jahari said, looking decidedly elsewhere as they approached the end of the street, passing by a wild-eyed man hawking a large array of expensive jewelry. Kumi thought he might’ve seen the Royal Adaerian crest on a sapphire broach.
“So, you think there could be more, uh…women…somewhere else?” Kumi asked just as they stopped outside of the doorway of one of the cottages. A girl who looked as though she could’ve been anywhere from fourteen to forty smiled toothlessly at him and lifted her skirt. Kumi jumped.
Jahari looked down at him. “Maybe. I mean, perhaps we should split up, just to see what else is around here.” Kumi was starting to agree with him; the toothless girl-woman aside, the other girls were showing far more interest in Jahari than they were in Kumi, approaching him with their hands already at the hem of their skirts.
“You military?” One of the girls asked in an accent similar to the people in the dark robes. She was shorter and rounder than the rest, but her heart-shaped face was bright and friendly. “We don’t get many Dánaidh around here…” She played with her long, dark plait as her eyes roamed over Jahari approvingly.
“Uh, yeah, we are,” Kumi said, attempting to push Jahari away, which Kumi realized was akin to shoving a bolder up a hill. “He was just leaving, though.” Jahari gave Kumi an amused grin, and then turned to walk back down the street.
“We’ll meet up in an hour at the well,” Jahari called, a teasing tone in his voice. “And compare notes.”
“Oh, where’s your friend going?” the girl asked, pouting. She dropped her plait and stared after Jahari’s hulking mass as he disappeared into the crowd, and the other women likewise turned from Kumi and resumed their catcalls to other passersby.
“To find some other…uh…whores.” Kumi replied helpfully.
She continued to watch after Jahari had gone, until Kumi cleared his throat significantly. The girl turned back to Kumi, and after looking him up and down appraisingly, introduced herself.“I’m Farihah.” She said, lifting her skirt in greeting. “You’re awfully scrawny for a Dánaidh, aren’t you?”
Kumi could feel his pride, among other things, shrinking.