Spirits of the Earth

OOC: Tags to @Lion

In the center of the room was stationed a high rise, rounded stage, with heavy, black drapes that glittered from the diamond dust that had been painted across their surface, as the candle light danced ontop of an ornate gold filigree chandelier. It was crowned at each cardinal direction with the sculpted head of a lion dragon. And below each dragon, and each curl that stretched out like a curling ray of the sun, dangled a series of opulent jewels that twinkled as they caught the light and added a dancing display of lights to the curtain and black painted floor. The diamonds looked like stardust, which was all part of the act- all part of her act. For she was one of their highest paid, highly sought after whores. And her name was Starlight.

Starlight wasn't her real name, her real name being Adrianna O'mera; which was a name she quickly killed off for her alter ego; the dark haired, sparkling, harp playing, soul singing prostitute who got to bed only one lucky gentleman a night for whomever could bid the highest to have her. She entertained the rest of the night, singing away songs that came from deep inside her soul- songs that spoke of a voice very much unlike the repressed world of opulence around her.
For she had a heart, and it was her heart that burned.

Some nights she sang so deeply, she found herself actually crying on stage; though not many patrons would have known that as tears would slid down and become last in the black, glittering paint that lined around her eye like a star. Even whatever skin was showing had some sort of star painted on it and her flesh was smoothed over with the same glittering jewel dust that also was smoothed and rubbed into her hair. Most of her patrons loved the display, though were not exactly too enthused when they woke up in the morning wtih glittering lips and cock. But hey, it was part of the charm, and Starlight was always more than 'happy' to oblige her patron come the morning with a scented bath, helping him or her scrub away their worries, and even offering a second fair well round of sex. And not a single customer was ever displeased.

"Gods, Starlight's voice is incredible," one man murmured amongst the crowd to his companions. "When I was able to afford her a few months back, you should have heard her sing."

"But we're hearing her sing right now!" his friend laughed.

"I don't mean like that. I mean really sing when you're banging her. God, that voice...." And the man gave an appreciative shake of his head. And he wasn't the only one in the audience oogling. Starlight had her own fan club, because each night she entertained there was something new. It was the same old Starlight, but the acts were changed up, sometimes an audience member got to participate with her on stage (which, depending on the money, could end up with a public display of some of the most intense sex the men have ever seen), or just some kinky pole dancing combined with harp playing and singing, and perhaps a blow job or a hand jerk. And sometimes, she helped a lucky man out in the crowd for free.

But today was something special. Today in her act would be something new.

"That song I just sung was something y'all remember," she said, smirking as she leaned against her harp. It was an ornately crafted instrument, of the finest wood and painted in pure gold. It workd into the act as it was actually built into the stage, and the supports for it were thin columns that acted like poles in which she danced around and added to her routine. But for this new act, this new song, she was seated there, scantily clad (as per the usual wardrobe) in somewhat of a translucent dress where the dim lighting and shadows and gltter on her face helped added to the mystery of what could almost be seen beneath it.

"But this new song, I hope you all will come to like. Like most of my songs, I've written them myself. And I put a little piece of me in it, so hopefully, it'll earn me a little piece of you." And she winked to the audience who applauded and cheered, calling out early cat calls before her fingers gently worked across the strings. And as she sat poised in the center of the stage, someone from the rafters worked at snuffing out a few of the chandelier's candles and the light's dimmed, with only a few lights to flicker over head.

And it was then she began to sing, soft and slow.

"My lips have turned to dust.
My heart has turned to stone.
Yet out of the moon.
I cling to one last tome."

And she started off singing slowly, delicately, before she began to strum and pick up the beat.

"Won't you kiss me, it'll let you live
Won't you breath me, and I won't ever forget
If you need me, I'll come for you
And I'll kiss your lips and I'll drink of you."

"Won't you kiss me, it'll raise you higher
Don't you leave me, there's a higher power
when you and I kiss-" And here he paused, lips opened, lips pursed and fingers lightly trilling, stroking skillfully over the strings before finishing the stanza,
"It makes us both invincible"

And lifting her eye to the crowd, she strummed her harp even louder, voice belting out with a sound from deep within, one that came from the soul, one that held meaning and stoked so many fires of emotions that the singer began to sweat, making her twinkle even more so upon the stage.

"Won't you take me, on the ground
Turn me up, bring me down, have me all around
Won't you kiss me, I'm all alone
and my lips are craving yours, Won't you take me, make me moan?"
And as she sung this part, her lips were oozing, nearly kissing out each word, heavy, panted lashes hanging low over her eyes that seemed to stand out like twin sapphires of varying colors. And as soon as she saw the audience was becoming so taken, she went on.

"Won't you kiss me, it'll let you live
Won't you breath me, and I won't ever forget
If you need me, I'll come for you
And I'll kiss your lips-" And she paused her harp, just for the briefest of moments before singing,
"Cause I need you."

And she paused, standing up now, strolling on over to one lucky man she pointed out int he audience, who was handsome and strange, and had been eyeing her all night. And as she strut herself on up to him, her back stiletto heels clicked upon the stage, then onto the floor where she walked, eyes only for him. And still she sang, voice ringing out,

"Cause I need you!"
And she took a seat upon his lap and leaned in close,
"cause i need you," and she swiped away his hair, leaning in ever closer, still singing, eyes ringing, eyes only for him.
"Cause I need you."
And seh leaned in closer
"Cause I need you."
Then ended the song with one intense long kiss.

The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering and eating it up. She most definitely had made an impression with that song, as she heard many men shouting out, "Next time you sing that, I want to be kissed next!"


And to the man who's lap she now sat upon, she smirked and admired him a moment. Perhaps she'd be able to out do her highest bid with this one. He was a stranger, new to the place. And who knew, he could be loaded with money. He sure smelled like it.
"All I need are your lips," she told him, still remaining perched upon his laps.
"and you can claim these hips," she whispered to him playfully, giving him a wink before slinking off his lap to stand before him, and before her adoring crowd.

Despite this not being exactly where she wanted to be in life- at least she was happy when she sang.

Ugh, Adela.  I swear the entire country smells of burning hair and dragon shit.

The notion had made him reconsider his visit the southern kingdom once or twice.  But business was business, and he wouldn't allow any sort of lame excuses keeping him from taking care of it either.  Ketra was...an agreeable city, decent enough for the tough-skinned, and thick-skulled people that Adelans tended to be.  Chagall didn't much care for them either which way, but he wasn't here for a leisurely visit.  And even if he was, he could think of better places he'd rather be than here.  There were no days off for the likes of him, however, no breaks, no extended holidays that didn't mean sleeping at the bottom of a lake.

He was a protected man, of course, he had eyes and ears where he needed them to be; and was always alert.  Even so, one could never be too careful right? 

The Randy Peach.  This was the place, that was for sure.  It was a reputable establishment, arguably the most famous (or was it infamous?) house of ill repute in all of Ketra, possibly even Adela if the stories were true.  Chagall knew better than to discount anything without further investigation.  That was why he was here after all.  All paths led to Adela, and those paths to Ketra, with the final destination being that of The Randy Peach.

He'd been tracking that sorry bastard for three months and then he suddenly disappeared on him.  Either Redan Gordrin had suddenly become good at hiding (of which he most certainly was not), or he was dead.  After looking through all logical avenues, Chagall had come to the conclusion that the snake was in fact dead.  Reliable tongues mentioned that he'd last been seen at the brothel and the next thing anyone knew, he was dead.  Just like that. 

But he wasn't here to look for a dead man's body.  No, that fork-tongued fool had something more valuable in his possession, something that Chagall had went through all the trouble to come down here to this red-light house.  And looking for a woman named Starlight.

He found a good seat, right dead-center before a raised dias that took the place of a stage and he could appreciate the artistry that went with the act, for the whore was famed most for her the entertainment she provided outside of the bedroom.  Her reputation preceded her, as was generally the case when it came to houses like these.  And he supposed those in business such as he.  Reputation, sometimes, was everything, and it could mean the difference between getting paid and not, between living and dying.

The men around him were eager for the next piece to get underway as she paused the music of her voice and the plucking of her harp.  If Chagall didn't know any better, he'd say their drool nearly covered the floor.  They whistled eagerly, and cat-called out to her just when she began another song.  His dark eyes studied her, watching her with intensity.  Her performance surely was riveting, indeed, and maybe a small smirk played on his lips.  She teased and enticed and tantalized the men in the audience, they only wanting her all the more.

But then she chose him.  And Chagall froze internally, though he did not show it when she planted herself on his lap.  Of course she would choose him, he growled to himself.  He was not a regular to this establishment after all, and she would want to make a lasting impression.  If that was one way to put it.  The kiss.  Now that was a nice touch.  It was intense and made his lips warm and he nearly felt his body react to it, but he stopped himself just in time.  Instead, he allowed himself a small smile, as she pulled away from him at the rise of clapping and whooping from her audience.

"Ah, c'mon!  Encore!  Encore!" the man before had called out.

"Yeah, Encore!" another called out!

Chagall only glanced around him for a moment before reaching a hand out and grabbing her by the wrist.  "You're mine, you know."  Smiling before letting her go.  He heard another man beside him grumbling to himself something nasty about newcomers and getting the highest bid. 

"Don't bite off more than you can chew on a first day," he said into Chagall's ear, as he folded his bid quietly and passed it into the bidding plate held by a young girl with a sly simper as she carried the plate carefully under her arm.  "Starlight ain't for the faint of heart.  Why don't you bid on one of them youngins hanging out by the bar," he laughed.  The collection girl leaned into the heckler's ear and whispered something, he blanched and snatched his note back from the plate, quickly scribbling something else and tossing it back.

Chagall said nothing to the man, only eying him for a few seconds before being handed a slip of paper of his own and scribbling down his own bid.  He handed it to the girl and she glanced at it, winking at him.  A smile played on her lips as she leaned into his ear and asked him if he wished to bid higher.  "That depends," he whispered back.  "Are all the stories really true about her?"

The girl giggled, whispering back, "Why don't you bid and see, darling?"

"Only because you know how to say it so well," he replied, tripling his bid and slipping it back to her. "Better?"

"Much," she said with a departing wink and continued with her collection.

Starlight gave the man an appreciative smirk. He was straight forward, hopefully his pockets were as lined as his coat. He wore fancy enough attire she hoped she could get enough money out of him. After all, she didn't exactly do these acts for free. So when she was released, she told him, "Then bid, darling and I can be yours all night." And with a wink, she walked away with a confident, sultry gate. If it was an encore the men wanted, it was an encore they would get.

The second she was on stage she let her translucent robe like dress fall to her feet, and now she stood completely bare, nothing but a black lace thong and stiletto heels on her before she took a seat beside her harp and began to play. And how it was every night, she took full advantage of the lightning and the way her stage and harps and poles were set up, giving the men a very sensual and erotic display as her body hung and clung against the harp, exposing herself here or there at just the right moment and in just the right places to keep them begging for more. And when she was done, the bidding was set out for a final time before she herself retired to her room- and the lady collecting the bids would make the final announcement. And as she began to look through the numbers, her eyes met to Chagall's as she grinned.

She certainly knew how to put on a show, it was all apart of the act, and all apart of the job, of that he had no doubt.  She was certainly good.  One man had to roll his tongue back into his mouth after she dropped the robe.  If Chagall didn't know any better, he would've laughed at the poor sod.  Instead he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, enjoying what remained of the show and watching as at last Starlight departed behind curtains.

Chagall couldn't be sure his bid had remained the highest after the final count was done.  But when the woman looked directly at him, he allowed himself a small smile and she nodded to him.  When he stood, the other men groaned disappointedly in the crowd, some dispersing to their second choices, other shooting glares at him.  He ignored them as he approached the lady and she gently took his hand.  "You're the lucky winner tonight, eh?" she said, leading him toward the hallway.  "Most newcomers don't get so fortunate on their first night here to the Peach.  You should know that Starlight is one of our most sought after ladies, and some men might not take too kindly to being outbid."

Chagall's eyes flickered and his smirk turned wry.  "I'm not too worried about them.  Now I believe you were showing me to her room," he said, gently.

The lady grinned coyly.  "Yes, right this way."  She took him before Starlight's door and rapt her knuckles on the door, knocking four times.  She eyed him for a moment before letting go of his hand and placing it on his shoulder, dragging her hand across his arm as she walked away.  "Have fun."

And Chagall quietly entered the room, closing it behind him with a soft click.

Like the stage, her room was draped in dark curtains, including the bed canopy, which was layered in ruffled, imported black Essyrni lace. The bed that lay underneath it was round and large, plush to the touch, and in it's center, shown through the layers sat Starlight. Her form was made out easily, even through the ruffles, the translucent fabric could not hide those curves, or her thick, wild mane of black hair. Upon seeing him enter, those eyes of hers pierced through the curtain as she gestured him forward with a single finger.

"Come on in, I've been expecting you," she cooed. "ANd don't let the drapes scare you off. But if you need some assistance.." and here she chuckled as she watched him, eyes dancing. "I'd be more than happy to oblige."

The set up was intriguing and most certainly kept up the air of mystery that surrounded the woman.  Chagall could appreciate the guile, and had he been any other man, his mouth would have been watering.  Well, then his eyes landed on her form and his grin turned crooked.  He could make her out through the drapery, sheer and tantalizing, teasing her silhouette.   "The darkness can be difficult to navigate.  I wouldn't mind a little...help," he replied, as he took off his coat and hooked it on the coat tree by the door.  He stepped toward the bed, but stopped at its edge, not yet parting the drapery.

Starlight grinned. She could see his form easily through the veil and inched her way forward on her knees, crawling like a cat on the prowl before she paused before it's opening.
"It's not too difficult. I'm sure you're familiar with the intricacies of a bow?" And she gave him a pouty smile through the dark drapery and guided her hand down along the center seam.
"There are three bows. Simply find the loose string for them at the bottom and... " and here, she raised both brows at him playfully. "Pull."

"Ah, I see now," he murmured.  His eyes glittered in the dim lighting and he observed her own visage back, with equal interest.  His hand reached forward and grasped the loose thread at the bottom of the last bow and gave a firm tug.  The bow came loose and so did the second and then the first.  Then he rested a knee on the bed, coming face to face with her, but a breath apart.  He reached for her hand and brought the back of it to his lips.  "I believe the lady requested a kiss." he murmured after kissing her hand.

Starlight raised a brow, her lips tugging into a smug but crooked smile. Wasn't he a charmer?
"I take it you liked my song?" she asked. Most men did, but her latest one, she tried to use it in her act that it seemed as if she were singing it for him. And for all she knew, perhaps she was. But then again, it was always a part of the act, and she aimed to please.

She helped part the curtain wider and leaned back, gesturing for him to come inside.
"If you want some more, I'd be more than happy to oblige. I can assure you, you'll be getting more than a little kiss this evening."

Chagall grinned, teeth showing like a predator. But there was a tantalizing danger to it, that charm seeping through.  "Oh I enjoyed it very much.  You sing beautifully...but I'm sure you hear that all the time," he murmured, pulling on the collar of his shirt, loosening the ties and plucking at the buttons of his tunic, slipping it off his body.  He was left in his shirt and trousers as he crawled over to her, lingering by her legs.

His hands smoothed up her ankles, his eyes looking over her just before he leaned down and kissed the skin of her thigh just above her knee, hand smoothing down her leg.

It was always easier to pretend pleasure when she had a handsome man, but she was always ready to go, her body tight and tense with anticipation after a show. She was lightly slicked with sweat already, which made her skin seem to glow, and from his angle between her legs he'd be able to smell the sweetness of her sex as a hand raked through his hair.

She wore barely nothing, the thin garment a mere sheet of sultry black that hugged her body and made it seem only more tantalizing in the warm glow of the low lit candles that burned in scattered lights about her room.

She gave a throaty laugh at his words, tossing her head back as dark hair fell off of her shoulders and tickled down her back.
"Well, I'll be singing a different tune for you tonight," she told him, hand still raking through his hair, lightly massaging at his scalp as finger nails lightly dug in to work as a comb through his locks. And while her one hand played with his hair as he remained so intimately close, her other hand moved forward, to lightly pluck at the button at the top of his remaining bits of clothes.

The slicked back strawberry blonde hair on his head (leaning more toward blonde than strawberry) played golden in the dim lighting.  He could feel her hand tugging at it as he kissed up her thigh and lingered more toward her hips.  When his shirt came loose, he shrugged out of it, letting it slip off his back as he lingered between her legs.  "Oh is that so?" he chuckled.  "Are you really as good as they say?  If so then I'm likely going to be singing a few songs of my own."

He looked up at her from his mess of hair and pushed the cloth of her sheer gown above her hips, leaning down and kissing at the skin above her sex.  His hands continued to grip at her skin, long fingers sifting underneath the sheer gown and pushing it up above her stomach.  Chagall did not often participate in this sort of act, though a man in his position could have anyone he wanted; he supposed it wouldn't hurt to indulge once in a while.  It was still business after all.

with his shirt shrugged aside, Starlight pursed her lips in an appreciative smirk. His lips felt good, and her body was hot and ready, but he was making things a bit more steamy. Her hand still stroked through his hair, but now it moved to smooth down his back, and so did her other hand, enjoying the feel of his muscles and flesh.

"You feel so tense," she murmured, fingers digging in and lightly massaging the muscles of his back in slow, sensual motions. "I hope I can make you feel more at ease," she told him, giving him a seductive look as a few locks of black hair fell over her face. The electric color of her eyes seemed to be amplified in the glow of the light,a nd the glow of her building lust, as the dual colors of violet seemed to frame well the richr, brighter color of the their turquoise centers as she kept her eyes locked upon his face and let out little appreciative noises when his lips and hands found somehting she liked.

He continued his explorations of her body, muttering sounds of understanding at her words, kissing his way up her belly and pushing her gown off of her as he went.  "I couldn't be anymore comfortable than I already am," he murmured.  "You have very skilled hands."  His breath splayed hotly against her breasts, and he dragged his lips up along her neck, one hand reaching down to remove his belt, the pressure of his groin nearly too intense to handle.

  "Tell me, Starlight, how do you come up with your songs?" he murmured, kissing at the other side of her throat now.  "What's your inspiration?"

His breath against her breasts made her nipples erect, turning extra sensitive as her flesh all over reacted to his touches, to his breath, to his heat as she sunk her teeth into her lips at the feeling. And as he moved to push her dress up even higher, she helped toss it aside, remaining beneath him, almost completely naked upon the bed. There was just a thin strip of fabric between them now, as she was helping him unbutton his pants and then leaned forward, kissing at his chest, then lower, to his abs, and lower still until his pants had come free and she smiled, admiring the erection that was now staring her in the face.

He sat up before her,  slipping his trousers half-off his ass, his member sticking out the crest of his pants and he pushed them down further.  He was a large man, proportional to his height, and his body was heated and hungry.  But before she could move any further, he held her face and kissed her, slowly at first, then more fiercely, as his legs wiggled out of the rest of his trousers.

The soft kisses were expertly sealed unto her lips. It was nice to see a man willing to pay so much at least knew how to handle his lips. For not many men could kiss so softly, so sweetly. But soon he was building up his need and she felt him shake her bed as he shook off his pants. She smiled through their kisses, and met his pace with an intensity of her own, tapping into an unknown craving as her hands slid all over his body, appreciating the large man's sense of power, and also, beginning to feel it between her legs. And now her tongue sought after his, parting his lips open as one hand cupped his face, the other one resting just above his ass on the small part of his back.

He did not enter, not yet anyway as he felt the heat of her sex.  Chagall held himself over her, kissing her hotly, feeling her press back into him, wanting him and he wanting her all the more.  A fire burned in his belly and smoke came out from his nostrils like a dragon hungering for prey.  His hands ran all over her sides, and he continued to tease her, sliding along her wetness.

For a man so well endowed, he sure knew how to treat a lady, and to feel his rock hard cock sliding against the folds of her sex and grinding against her sensitive clit made her hot with fever as she writhed beneath him. And soon, her soft gasps were turning into whimpering moans. And though she was panting and making an awful lot of noise already, he'd still be able to hear the eager slickness of her sex as she began to grow soaking wet.

"So," he whispered against her lips, as he continued to tantalize her, feeling the tip threaten to slide within.  "Are you going to tell me how you come up with those lovely songs?" he murmured against her ear, the tip of the cock slipping within her.  "I want to hear all about it."

The man paused just at the brink of her pooling desire. And such lust grew within like a flame, and burned between her legs like lava. Her lips had parted, a gasp hung deep with her throat and slowly she grit her teeth at him, though the sparkle of a smile was in her eyes.


But then she thought back to his words and grinned up at him, taking his hand and coaxing it to smooth over her left breast, before guiding him to lay it down flat, fingers open.
"From the heart. I sing from in here," she told him, guiding his hand to squeeze her breast. "And the words form, and then I have the lyrics come out from here.." And she took his other hand, guiding it to her lips as she licked and kissed at the tips of his fingers before sucking lightly on the tips of two.

Her hips were now rocking, nursing the tip of his sex with her own. And Gods it felt divine. And though it appeared as if she were excited about him, what had started the flame of desire was truly in that song- her real passion-
and this? This was just a nice quip of ecstasy.

He could feel the fire and it burned hotly as he watched her eyes, her expression as he now lay beneath her.  His thumb played with the bottom of her lip as she teased his fingers and he gently pulled his fingers out from her lips and grabbed his member, pushing it further into her, an inch at a time.  "That is quite intriguing," he panted, his other hand holding her hips.  He touched up along her belly, back to her breast and gently massaging it as his hips bucked up underneath her.  "Nothing could sound so lovely unless it came from the heart," he whispered.  "That I can understand completely."

"Yes," she panted, feeling her body tremble as each inch of him was fed into her. "But we're here for a completely carnal reason. And I can assure you, this sort of entertainment," and she held onto the small of his back and grunted as she forced him nearly all the way into her- then slid him out, almost completely, his sex now slick with her. "Is something we'll both fully enjoy."

He moaned loudly, body shuddering at the motion, as his body recovered from entry.  "Good," he panted underneath her.  He met his hips flush to her, slide within her again, slowly, sensually to feel every turgid inch of him until they were flush together and gently rocked his hips against hers, undulating them.  His hands continued their explorations, roaming across her back and slipping across her breasts, rubbing at a nipple here and there. His mouth dragged across her neck, finding the base of her throat and nursing there.

His swollen cock fit into her tight body, but it seemed just barely, and she adored each inch of him. Being a Peach, she had slept with a countless number of men, and though each man seemed to think a like, it was always fun to find herself with a new boy. Though Chagall was hardly a 'boy' by any means,a nd his natural pelvic thrusting proved that.

She pursed her lips as she felt his hands all over her body, moaning softly herself as she felt the intense burning pleasure from their joined sex.
"Every inch of you feels divine," she told him through hot breaths that splayed across his chest. She began to kiss there, then to his shoulder and neck, where she paused, their bodies flush as she rocked her hips wth him, pausing with her lips agape so she could lightly grate her teeth against his ear.

"Just let me know what you want. This is your fantasy- and I will be your desire."

His heart was ready to pound out of his chest as he turned them over on their sides and hoisted her hip higher onto his.  "Just you.  I came a long way just for you," he murmured.  "Talk really gets around you know." 

Starlight could't lie. She was thrilled by the idea, and the new position, she adored. Being on her side allowed his hard sex to slide against all of the sensitive folds of her sex, against her clit, and hitting just the right angles inside her body to get hr to begin to writhe and moan.
"Well, I hope I won't disappoint," she moaned, her body rising and falling along his pleasure as her skin began to get covered in a light array of sweat, which mingled with the soft glitter she had painted upon her flesh, and due to their joining, her paying customer would began soon coated in it as well. But that was the least of their worries, for now, she focused on the pleasure of her man, and tried not to let her own pleasure consume her as she pursed her lips and arched her back, keeping the angle just right and allow him to fuck her at whatever speed he liked.

Chagall took things slow, meticulous, with attention to detail as he always did with nearly everything.  He could feel the tightening of her walls, the slickness of her sex allowing him to slip through with ease and he felt where certain strokes made her body tremble more.  He wanted her to moan, to shiver, to shake and he stroked her slowly but senually, each undulatin with intent.

He gripped the small of her back, pushing his cock deeper into her and pulling back out but not all the way, listening to her body and letting her feel all of him.

He was cruel in his speed, though she could appreciate the art in his movements. He was taking her in a way each of their bodies could properly taste the other one, his dick moving into her where she could feel every inch of him as it drove her mad. Most men were hasty, quick and almost dirty in the way they fucked, so very rarely did she get a man willing to pay to make an art of it, to actually want to play it out and enjoy the task, rather than fuck her as many times as he could and cum needlessly and frantically. Though a man taking her like a fevered animal was nice in it's own way, the fact this man took his time began to elicit deep throated moans as her body began to build towards the pooling burning rush of her own peak of desire. And she couldn't help but wonder how much this man sought to pay for this, and recalling that this was no lover but a paying customer made her sex tremble and nearly put her over the edge.

Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and sparkled here and there with glitter where he pressed his face into her chest.  And on his lips where his mouth pressed to her breasts, running his tongue here and there.  He took his time to appreciate every part of her, roaming up to her neck with wet kisses, moving his hips in unison with hers.  He could feel her trembling and pulled her leg up higher onto his hips as his lips met to hers, drinking her deeply, as he were more than a patron at the Randy Peach.  Just because he was paying her for this didn't mean that both of them couldn't enjoy the pleasure.

With her leg hiked up, it offered him better access, and a deeper angle and she could not contain the pleasure that was coursing through her, building up and her sex began to pulsate irradicately as she came, tossing her head back as she sang.

If only that was all she would sing then.  He wasn't nearly finished with her and the night was young.  Chagall was not yet sated as he coaxed her into another position, guiding her to lay on her belly as he moved behind her, pulling her legs up around his hips and gently pushed his large cock into her sex from another angle.  He continued his cruel pace, slow and steady, holding her hips as he gently moved within her.  Her song was beautiful indeed, and he wondered how long she could sing in one night.

"By the Gods, you're a cruel man," she murmured against the bed sheets as she sucked in a breath and moaned. "And I realize how rude it has been of me," she spoke through a pant. "Not to gt your name so that I can sing of your praises when you take me to heaven again." Because he knew just how to treat a lady, and her desire was already beginning to burn again.

Chagall chuckled, working his hips slowly against hers, feeling where he had gotten to her before and favoring the other sides he had neglected.  "My name doesn't really matter does it?" he murmured.  "Your lovely voice is praise enough.  But if you must call me something, Willem will suffice."

"I'll call you whatever you desire," she purred, but her words ended in a moan as the end of his dick got buried into her sensitive spot, nice and deep. "If Willem is what you wish, Willem I will scream." And she dug her fingers into the bed, body positioned and propped firmly- letting him take her at his leisure, even as the sinful pooling of pleasure began to build with crazed intensity again.

Chagall had always favored Willem as one of his many many aliases.  There were often so many to choose from it was difficult to decide, but the choice was made and he now focused all the more on the task at hand.  His hands gripped her hips, pulling them up higher against his, coaxing her legs to wrap around tighter with seething pressure, moving his hard cock deep within her sex.  "But what about...what you desire, hmm?" he murmured.

Starlight obeyed, keeping a tight grip around him that was all but crushing, but not enough to hurt her customer. But at his words, she whimpered, because..
deep down, she wanted someone to sate her own desires-
but also someone who came to her, from the heart. Her songs were written based on dreams, based on a freedom, a life she could never have, and intermingled with the reality she was now far too well suited and trained for. So at such a notion, her sex tense and gripped his as she gasped.
"If.. if you were here just to give me what I desired, would I not be paying you?" she moaned, but by the heavens, this was tortuous, but good, and she loved it all the more because... well, with a man who actually asked about her, it was so much easier to play pretend.

"What does it matter?" he grunted from behind her.  "We are both in the mood for sex.  Does it not make the act all the sweeter if we both are sated in what we desire?"  He chuckled, a vibration that coursed through him as he moaned.  His body leaned over hers, hands on either side of hers, arching her back a little, as he continued to work within her.  At times he would change pace, move faster, then slower again, adjusting his hips to favor different angles.  "Would it be so bad?"

Starlight all but buried her face into her arm and hair, reveling in the way he took her and tightening up her sex as she felt herself growing near another peak. One thing about her profession was she knew her body so intimately that, as he stated- does it not make the job sweeter for her to enjoy it too? She licked her lips and smiled, teeth showing behind painted lips and she gripped onto his sex even tighter now with her own.
"I suppose you're right," she panted. "But just keep fucking me. It feels amazing."

He moaned behind her at the tightening of her sex around his swollen member.  He was usually a hard man to please, but she was a professional, that much he knew and it showed in her own motions.  He laughed, he couldn't help himself and worked a little harder in her, putting more effort in his thrusts as they grew a little more hungered and he panted harder.  "Like this?" he murmured.

At his laughter, she smiled, finding it melting her body as a pool of heat and pleasure continued to grow.
"Yes," she told him, arching up into him. "Just like that."

He continued to fuck her as she wanted, his head leaning into her neck, kissing her at that twisted angle.  She was flexible enough as it was and he pushed her to bend a little further as he ground his hips into hers with increasing intensity.  "You're positively scorching, darling," he panted. 

She smiled at his comment.
"That's because you lit me on fire," she told him through a breathless, throaty moan.
"Just keep up what you're doing." she said, closing her eyes tight. "And I'll sing your name." And sing in sin.

He worked closely within her, working her nice and slow, senually but intently and moaned loudly in his own right.  He could feel his body begin to tremble, shudder here and there as he neared his own peak.  She was so slick, so hot, he cut right through her and his body growing tense the more he melted against her.

Starlight adored that he was taking the lead. Sometimes men preferred she be on top, or tie them up, or both; where as this man sought to make it almost an equal partnership, though he was wise in his choice. He had fueled Starlight's fire, made her positively gushing with energy as she moaned. Her breaths were soon coming shallow, deeper, and she felt herself so very close to her peak-

But she would wait. Her sex quivered against his ministrations- but she'd wait for the man to have his own fill-
or to do something else that would send her over the edge unto ecstasy.

He paused before he peaked, wrapping his arms around her and changing position once more, sitting back, pulling out of her sex for a brief moment.  He coaxed her down onto his lap, his eager member wanting of her sex and gently pushed himself within once more, bucking his hips underneath hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Starlight obeyed, finding herself moving to his lap with a breathy smirk. Her skin was flushed and glittering and once they were rejoined, her eye lashes fluttered, almost hanging closed but remained just a crack open as her eyes nearly rolled back into her head.
"By the Gods, you know how to make a woman feel good," she moaned, her hands finding his body, smoothing down near his hips before reaching down between them and smoothing over his thighs, then between them to where she cupped his balls and gently massaged them, and also worked her hand at the base of his shaft, moaning as she could feel his penetration as their bodies slapped together with need.

"I'm glad I could oblige...  Sex is better when both partners can share in the...pleasure," he panted in her ear.  At her touch he practically whimpered and shuddered against her.  He leaned in, kissing at her neck, his own flesh slick with sweat and sparkling with the glitter that coated her body.  "You like heaven..."

Starlight moaned, her hands now moving to smooth over his lower belly, keeping her palms resting there as she continued to move with him.
"Then I suppose I'm a very lucky whore," she quipped, smiling as some dark hair fell across her face, almost blending in with the the black star over her one eye. And each time they moved, her body glistened, positively glowing beneath his ministrations, and the way the candle light played across her flesh helped to aid in the illusion of his confession- that she was like heaven.

If he believed in angels, in heavenly things, in gods and higher power, he would have been believed more ardently in her heavenly appearance.  But he believed in real things, in the strength of power, in the pursuit of it's meaning, in this world not the next and now her body felt more real to him than the pain brought by the edge of a razor blade.  He moaned against her, panting hard as his body began to shudder once more. 

If he was to succumb to the distraction of sex, he might as well enjoy it, he thought and enjoy it he did.  Chagall sought her lips, her mouth, the wetness of her tongue between moans, kissing her hotly and suddenly he felt himself tremble uncontrollably and his body burst in heat, flushing her through.

When their lips united they did so in a hungered force, like powerful waves crashing in the ocean, which mimicked the wild rocking motion of their bodies. And as she felt her desire burning brighter, she was singing his name again, and the notes went higher, deeper, gasping from well within her throat as she felt his heated rush within her as it gushed and gushed. Her own sex spasmed off the feel of his seed, and she too, finally wilted into contentment against him as she shivered.
Gods, whatever he was paying, she just hoped she could get that sort of rise out of him again.

Chagall laid back against the bed, feeling her fall on his chest.  He was breathing hard, panting, his chest and neck glistening with glitter and the slickness of sweat.  She sang for him, and it was a lovely song to hear.  "You most certainly...did not...disappoint," he chuckled, catching his breath at last.

At his comment, Starlight peered up at him.
"I should hope not," she told him, kissing softly at his chest. "Because, Love, this is only just the beginning."

"Oh?" he smirked coyly at her.  "I'm assuming you have quite the imagination.  I'd loved to see what more you have in store."  He pushed her hair out of her face and ran his thumb underneath her cheek, admiring the star on her face.

Starlight gave him a catty look.
"Yes, I have many fun things in store for you. Do you paint, Willem?" she asked, laying on her side now as she observed him, a sparkle to her eyes.

"Paint?  Hm, I dabble a little.  Why?" he asked.  His own smile grew, as he leered at her.  His hands played with her breasts, smoothing over her nipples and cupping underneath them as he leaned in for a kiss.  "Got a little art project for me?"

Starlight's smile grew smug, leaning in a bit to the feel of his warm hands as they fondled her.
"Perhaps," she told him, laying in a way now upon the bed so he could admire her at length. "But it seems right now you're rather busy." And her eyes sparkled appreciatively as she moved a hand to smooth up his side. "Take your time. I'm all yours for the night." And seh moved to kiss up his throat and nibbled at his ear. "All of the night."

Chagall smiled like a cat in cream and he smoothed his hands down her side, gripping at her waist and leaning his head down to kiss at her chest.  "I can be persuaded to alter course.  I'd love to hear what you have in mind," he murmured.

Starlight grinned as he kissed at her breasts. And adored feeling his words against her.
"Oh, it was nothing special," she told him, still grinning, a hand now raking through his hair. "But I own a unique array of body paints." And her grin broadened as she added, "Edible body paints."

His head perked up at her last words and his face was stunned for a moment before his grin broadened.  "Is that so?" he chuckled.  "Preposterous.  How can paint be edible?"

At his questioning, she drew a line down the black star on her eye and then, showed him the black paint on her fingers before taking it to her own tongue. She lapped off the paint and softly moaned.
"It's a sweet paste, but works doubly as body paint," she told him, amused by his reaction. Most men who were treated to it, were normally surprised. It was, after all, part of her little secret for her midnight rendez-vous patrons.

Chagall's smile widened.  "Indeed?  I am pleasantly surprised.  Do these paints have different flavors?" he wondered, taking her finger and sucking off what paint remained, pulling it out with a pop.

Her smile broadened.
"But of course. The black is a rich, sweet licorice. The red- a tantalizing tart cherry, and this one- the blue, is my favorite," she said, picking up the small, edible paint canisters and setting them at the edge of her bed. "This one.."s he said, holding it up for him to see as she dipped a finger in and painted it across his bottom lips. "Is a rare and succulent treat." And she leaned forward, pressing her lips unto his, eyes closing as she drank from him, then used her tongue, running it over the flavor as she softly moaned. "It's blue raspberry. A taste that's tangy and tickled yours senses," she purred, and leaned in to lick and kiss at his lips again, a hand cupping his face as she did so. And when she was done, she smiled.
"Which flavor would you like to try first?"

Chagall physically shivered and he licked his lips in the wake of their kiss and he beamed at her with sharpened teeth.  "I wouldn't mind trying them all.  But I think I'll go with your favorite first," he said with a widened grin.  He dipped a finger into the blue paint and painted them around her nipples and leaned down to taste the paint off of them.  "Hmm.  You're right.  Tangy and yet sweet."

Starlight grinned and leaned her body forward, allowing him full access to her breasts.
"Don't be stingy now," she said, digging four fingers into the paint and moving to lather one entire breast, then moving to do the same with the other. "Please, indulge."

"I didn't want to be presumptuous," he confessed with a laugh before leaning down and running a tongue on the underside of her left breast before closing his lips around her nipple, gently sucking there.  He did the same to the other before taking more paint and dragging it down along her belly, his lips soon following.

Humming with delight, she felt her nipples grow hard, tense, as if they could cut glass. They were so sensitive that his tongue made her shiver. Coaxing him to continue, she dragged her fingers through his hair, then took a fistful and gripped it gently as she gasped softy each time he lapped at an exceptionally hot spot that had her toes also curling into the bed.

"You're shivering," he murmured against her skin, as he continued to roam south.  "Are you cold?"  He smirked, taking more paint as he went, lapping his toungue along her lower belly and kissing as he went.  She tasted sweet, like water and her belly was cool beneath his lips.  "You tremble too..."

Starlight smiled when he picked up on her reaction.
"It's your touch, Willem. Your tongue is so hot, and the way it laps against me... " she bared her teeth and shivered again. "It sends thrills across my skin."

"Good.  I was wondering if there was a draft in here," he laughed, finding his lips just above the skin of her sex, the sweet smell of her essence there.  He fook the liberty of slathering paint there, though he refrained from lapping at it.  Instead he splayed his breath across it, kissing up along her hip, his hands smoothing up her thighs.

Her eyes fluttered closed, teeth sinking into her bottom lips as she breathed out a moan. Toes curled into the bed, and fingernails into his skin as they smoothed down his back, leaving light indentations of half-moon shapes in their wake. She didn't mind this sort of treatment, her body at the complete mercy of this man, but she couldn't help but let her mind drift away, wondering if she'd ever do this sort of thing for a real lover-
but then recalling this was her life,a nd she was chained to it, she shivered and tried to snuff that dream out. But it was difficult, for it was the one thing that seemed to keep her sane, and to play up that fantasy role helped make each night with a different man more manageable.
The breath upon her sex made her suck in her lower lip, squirming lightly beneath him as she enjoyed each an every attentions he made in sin.

He'd teased her long enough, he thought and leaned in toward the heat of her sex, taking his time to taste her.  He explored the folds her sex with care and attention, listening to her body, her twitches, her moans, her tenses, until he could feel her shuddering against him and he pulled his head back up, leering at her, crawling back up her body.

His tongue worked like magic, licking her and making her shiver. She was.nearly drawing blood with how deeply her teeth sunk into her lips, and when he stopped she released and breath and smiled.
"Shall we try the cherry?" She asked, lifting the jar up for him invitingly.

Chagall laughed, laying down beside her.  "Certainly," he murmured and opened the cannister with a pop.  "So, maybe most men don't bother asking you and you don't have to answer, but I'm curious.  How long have you been in employ here?"

"Long enough to know," she went on, dipping a finger into the cherry paint and spreading it across his lips. "What men desire," she licked at his lips, slowly, sensually before moving painted fingers across his throat and chest, kissing thereas her hair tickled his flesh. "Long enough to know what will make them beg to come back." And she dipped morepaint onto her fingers, painting lower and licking him clean until she paused just before his cause then proceded to lather her hand in paint before gripping his cock and coating it well. Then getting on all.fours before him, she began to lap her tongue slowly and hotly down his length.

Chagall's eyes were half-lidded, watching her intently as she teased and tantalized and already he could feel his body hardening, hungry, eager.  But he was not quite yet ready, not until her tongue found her way to him.  Only then did his cock grow, begin to swell, thicken considerably.  "That I can believe," he murmured, moaning softly, but keeping himself in check.  "Those men were pretty upset when a newcomer like myself won the bidding."

Starlight smiled as she continued to run her tongue along his length, feeling him grow with each wet caress. And when she felt he was nearly as hard as he ought to, she then took his length into her mouth, slowly at first, before easing all of it in to the wet confines beyond her lips, and once his cherry flavored cock was inside, she gave a suck and began to enjoy the sweet and salty flavor as she moaned.

He moaned loudly, arching his back at the feeling of her sucking.  It had been some time since anyone gave him a decent cocksucking.  The last one was a mess.  He tensed and eased here and there, his fingers burying themselves into her hair as she sucked his cock, pushing her head down with light pressure.  "Gods above!  You weren't kidding," he panted and undulated his hips slightly in rhythm with her head as his cock continued to grow.  "That's it.  Nice and deep.  Suck right there.  Don't be stingy, now.  You're doing great. Yeah...  yeah...oh...  Don't stop."

This new client would be hers, as all of the patron's before her were. She'd make him realize why he'd need to keep coming back for more; for the fun, for the sin. And he tasted divine, the body paints did wonders and helped evoke a lot of playful ideas as her lips continued to sample of him, tasting him until the last bits of cherry flavored paint were long gone and he was at full size between her lips.

His eyes rolled back into his head and his throat had grown hoarse from moans.  He nearly ripped some hair from her scalp as the pleasure grew with intensity.  He whimpered, shuddering as his body neared his peak until he came at last.  "I think I know why they call you Starlight," he panted.  "You know how to make a man see stars."

Starlight swallowed his seed and her smile grew. She licked off any excess on her lips and gave the man a once over.
"Trust me, that won't be the last time either, love." And she moved to nestle in beside him, a hand stroking his hair. "What is it your desire? Is it time for you to rest? Or do you wish to play more games? Do not forget, I am yours all night." And she leaned forward, her lips brushing dangerously close to his as a hand raked through his hair. "Only yours," she whispered, lashes hanging low.

Chagall's eyes glittered in the dark, warm in the candlelight and he grinned, raising a hand to stroke her cheek and push her hair from her face.  "Then we shouldn't waste a minute of it, love.  The night is young after all," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss her, softly, sweetly, almost like a lover.

Starlight smiled through the kiss. It was warm and soft and palpable. She could melt right into him, so she did, hooking one leg around his hips and drawing her arms around him lightly as they smoothed and graced over his body.

It was easy.  Maybe a little too easy to melt against her, to feel her and to taste her lips.  It was different this time, a little deeper, a little hotter for her lips seemed to fit against his and he leaned against her to relish in it all the more.  "Hmm," he moaned, finding his fire return, pretending for a moment that this was more than one night.

Most of her clients, she hated to say, were rather frantic and sloppy. If you were coming into a whore house, you had one idea in mind- to fuck. But this man, it seemed and felt, well different. Though she was no fool, and knew he was stilla  paying customer; still, it was refreshing to have someone kiss her like that. It was a lover's kiss, both tender but filled with passion, which helped to fuel the fire building within her belly. And as he moaned, so did she, and simply just let herself enjoy the moment as a man and woman should.

Their kiss grew more and more heated as he pressed into her, his hands feeling her all over as he took her again and again.  It wasn't until hours later that he lay half-asleep, exhausted, glittering and glistening in the dimmed candelight.

Starlight too, was thoroughly exhausted. And content as well. It had been sometime since she herself thoroughly enjoyed a patron. But she wasn't one to share any confessions, or her other jobs, so she simply sighed in contentment beside him and stretched out at length, curling her toes and fingers into the bed and laying with her face half buried in the bed.

Then, tiredly, she opened her eyes and smiled at him warmly.
"Do you wish to rest now?" she asked in a gentle whisper, a voice barely above a breath.

"I think I could sleep for a week," Chagall admitted, stretching out against her.  He turned on his side, smiling at her and reaching along her side.  "You really wore me out.  I think I pulled a muscle."

Starlight gave an appreciative smirk at the comment.
"I'll take that as a compliment." And her hand smoothed down his side. "Would you like a massage? I can help work out those kinks."

"I was just about to offer the same thing.   But certainly."  He laid down on his back, propping a pillow up under his head and he grinned at he.  "Work your magic, darling."

And work her magic she did, kneading her fingers into the tight muscles of his back and shoulder and finding him very tense, despite their relative calm.
"You're still so tense. You must have a very difficult job."

"I'll admit, my job is more stressful than most.  I do quite a bit of traveling.  And long journies can throw a few kinks to a body, no matter how strong."  He melted underneath her touch.  "Hmm.  Gah, that knot right there."  He turned a little and cracked his back.  Turning his head, he looked at her.  "What about you?  You do a lot of traveling?" 

"Travel?" Such an inquiry made the Peach chuckled. "Darling, my life is here." And she let her hands drift up his shoulders, then smoothed down his arms. And as she leaned over him, her long dark hair tickled at his back. "I belong here, and to the night."

"The night.  My favorite time of day.  I always had this thought that it was a world all it's own and those that dwell within it...a breed their own.  Perhaps we have more in common than I first thought," he murmured through a chuckle.  "You like to explore the city at night I take it?  I suppose I ought to wonder if you ever get a night off that is."

Starlight smirked.
"The night time is the best time. But I am here to simply serve my customers. There is not much time for anything else."
Or freedom...
Though it would be nice to see more of the world her customers were from...
But she kept on smiling, kept on massaging him, hoping to relax him as her lips followed her hands as they worked.

She was truly a mistress of her art.  He smiled in contentment as she worked his back and he practically melted into the bed.  "That is a shame.  Your hands feel like heaven," he murmured but turned around in the midst of her massage and took her arms in his hands.  "Why don't you lay down for a moment?  It's your turn," he murmured.

"You want to give me a massage?" she asked, turning to him with a smirk. But not one to argue, or pass up a chance to be spoiled, she move to lay on her belly and waited for his hands to perform.

Chagall smiled as he leaned over her and slowly worked his hands with good pressure against her upper back, He pressed against her muscles and thumbs into the skin of her shoulders.  "You don't get the chance to indulge in attention often do you?" he murmured.  "You seem surprised I wanted to do this myself.  I don't mind with sharing the relaxation."

"Well, not many men would pay to massage their peach. Not that I'm complaining," and she sighed contentedly beneath his touch. "Do as you please," she moaned.

"Good, now relax," he murmured.  His hands worked gently but firmly down her back, running his palms and thumbs down her lowerback and up it again.  "So tell me, do you get many regulars here?  Every one asks for you, but not all can afford you.  Do you ever get the sort of client that just manages to come up with the right money night after night?"

"My more regular clients tend to be the big shots, the rich men looking for a thrill. But because each night fluctuates with the crowd, so does my clientele."

Chagall laughed.  "Sounds like my usual night.  Big shots trying to use their wealth to push their weight around. Sometimes it works.  Sometimes not so much."  He chuckled, his hands growing more intense on her lower back.  "Speaking of big shots...or people that think they are, you wouldn't have happened to know a man by the name of Redan Gordrin, would you?"

Starlight let out soft noises of appreciation, but when Chagall asked specifically about Redan Gordrin, she grew silent a moment, both lost in thought and the pleasure of being massaged.
"I'm not allowed to speak about my clients, but a client of mine, he is. Though he's only a man that's been around here more recently. I'm not sure he's a local, why?"

"He was a friend of mine," Chagall said casually.  "I hadn't seen him in such a long time.  He was always the creature of habit and frequented establisments such as these.  We were old buddies.  Last I heard he was in Ketra...and last seen with you," Chagall said.  "In fact...he's dead."

Starlight visibly tensed at that last comment. But after a moment, as the reality sunk in, she murmured, "Dead?"

"Dead as a trampled cat," Chagall murmured, his voice falling low.  "Now seeing as he was last seen with you...one might put two and two together.  I wouldn't say I'm one of them, but..."

"Are you implying he had too much fun with me and keeled over?" she asked, prettily. "Because, Darling," she continued to speak, pausing him from massaging her as she placed a hand upon his wrist and turned to face him. "I'm a whore, not a murderer. This is my day and night job."

Chagall gave her a smile and placed a hand on either side of her head.  "I know, darling.  But it is rather suspicious don't you think?  Now I know you kow more than you're telling.  You followed Gordrin.  Why?"

"Why would you think I know more than that? I'm a night girl. Just ask anyone here. I was in the Peach all night."
And then she added, with just a fluctuation of her defiant expression, "I was ill."

Chagall laughed and leered at her.  "There's no longer a need to be coy.  You admit to knowing Gordrin.  You saw him that night before he vanished.  What did you say to him? Others have seen you outside the Peach, so don't lie to me."

"Sugar, I think you're getting confused," she told him, batting her eye lashes at him as she smiled. "Do you miss your friend that much? Or do you wish for me to pretend I was there? Remember, you're paying for whatever you want this evening. So if you want me to be that sort of bad girl..."s he told him, drawing her fingers up his chest. "Just let me know. And I can be whatever it is you want me to."

"Really?"  Chagall grinned a little.  "How bad can you be?  What kind of bad does a girl like you like to get into?"

"I've got ropes, chains, you name it. I'll even spank you for free," she told him with a wink. "But it's really up to you, darling," she told him, cupping his face. "You paid for me. I'm all yours. And all the fantasy that entails."

And hopefully that'd be enough of a distraction from his question.

Chagall's grin only grew wider as he leaned over her.  "You must be quite fond of misadventures.  I think some ropes would be quite...exciting.  A whip if you have it too," he smirked, leaning down and pecking her lips softly.  "I don't mind a little domination, if you don't." 

Of course, he wasn't really distracted at all.  It might make it easier for questioning if she was held in one place, however.

Starlight grinned.
"Anything for the paying man," she cooed. "And do you prefer to be tied down, or shall I?"

He smirked, splaying breath across her lips, tasting them, a little.  "You, restrained.  Just to get a taste for how it feels."

Starlight chuckled.
"Darling, I've been tied up before." And she rose from the bed and gave him a wink. "Though I'm sure a smart man like yourself can be creative with it." And she moved to a nearby drawer and pulled out some rope- black, silky rope, which she tossed his way.
"So..." she said, tossing her wild black hair out of her face. "Shall we do this the hard way, or the easy way?" She asked, stealing a kiss from his lips. "The hard way being you have to earn the right to tie me up." And her smirk grew at that.

Chagall's brows furrowed at her last words and he frowned just a bit.  He didn't think he had to work even more after having already paid for the night, but he inwardly sighed and turnes his lips into a wry grin. "Story of my life, sister," he snickered.  "And just what do I have to do to earn this right?"

"Well, it's up to you, sugar. Whatever you prefer. If you just want me to lay here and get tied up, by all means, go ahead. However, if you want a bit more of a challenge.... you'll have to catch me and force me beneath those ropes, if you know what I mean," she cooed, tossing him another wink as her hand smoothed across his chest, then up his throat to where it rested just beneath his chin.

She knew how to entice didn't she.  Chagall would play her game, for now.  "I don't mind a little chase," he said lowly, leaning in to kiss her. But he rolled off of her and took the rope securely in hand, looking at her over his shoulder.

And by the time he had the rope in hand and looking over his shoulder, Star light seemed to all but vanished. Truthfully, she had simply rolled off the bed and remained a looming figure behind the bed curtains, watching... waiting for what he'd do.

He always did relish a good chase, a hunt for the pure fun of it and he stepped around the bed, watching her, eyes gauging her as he gripped the rope and took a step toward her.

As he approached, naturally, she moved away, light on her feet and side stepping to the other side of the bed. And through the veil, she was smiling, but her dark eyes never once left his.

Chagall followed, slowly at first, gliding on the floor with subtle, predator grace before he bolted after her.  He had long legs and was nimble enough to quickly circumvent the bed.

 And that's when she made a leap for the bed, tumbling across it and landing on the floor of the opposing side, using her ears to listen to which way he'd come for her next.

A tumbler eh?  He wasn't expecting that.  She moved quickly, with anticipation, not quite in the usual way he might have assumed a prostitute would be trained in.  She knew what she was doing.  Even a roll could be difficult to execute properly without practice in the proper technique.  It was too easy to sprain one's neck, or hurt their spine altogether.  Chagall sidestepped the bed, seeming to come around again when he threw himself up onto the bed, lunging for her.  "C'mere!"

Starlight gasped when he came for her suddenly, and her attempt to roll off the bed to escape resulted in a half fail. For he had managed to grab her wrist but the rest of her managed to tumble away, but soon became tangled in the silky drapes.

Chagall moved with animal agility and he was upon her, wrapping the drapes around her, trying to knot her within them like a sack.

Starlight let out a gasp, hands and feet pushing against the drapes for a way out, but the man was swift and she soon realized she was caught. Not thinking she'd be caught so easily, she pressed one final palm against the drapery and left it there. With a smirk, she looked into his face and said, "Nice catch."

Chagall raised a brow at her, holding her securely in the drap bundle before shifting his arms around her to tie the silk ribbon securely.  "Everyone thinks they can get away.  You're more slippery than most.  You tumble like an acrobat.  Impressive."

Starlight gave him a smug grin from behind the dark drapes.
"I get a lot of practice. You'd be surprised what I'm paid to do." And as she studied his face, she found herself asking, "So what are you going to do with me now? Now that you've got me all caught up here. Looks like I'm completely at your mercy." And she gave a playful pout at that.

Chagall smirked, even laughed a little as he secured the knots and plopped her on the bed.  "Question you of course, now that you can't get away.  Tell me what you know about our mutual friend Redan," he said, staring down at her sternly.

Starlight only laughed at him, but after seeing his expression, her own grew serious.
"Are you seriously going to waste your night questioning me on him?"

Chagall's eyes just stared at her with a glare and he tightened his expression.  "Yes.  Now talk."

"What?" she struggled within the drapery. "I told you what I know. You can't possibly think I'd have anything more than that to do with him. I already went through this. I'm not a murderer. And I have no idea who could have done it. He was just a patron. That was all. And I treat all paying customers the same."

"There's more," Chagall grabbed a knot from the ribbon and pulled it tighter, tightening all the knots.  "Redan isn't known for being more than just a little, shall we say, friendly with certain objects in his possession.  On the night you saw him last, did you see anything he might have been carrying, or heard something he likely would have been bragging about?  It would be in your best interests to be honest with me."

"The only thing out of the ordinary was he didn't seem like the typical high paying man. But not all rich paying men are the same, so I don't like to assume. He was a bit rough around the edges, and seemed a tad bit... possessive, but some men just like to get it off that way." And she paused, scowling at him. "Now will you let me go? I don't know much more than that. And sugar, next time you want to play these sort of games, I'd like to know ahead of time. It isn't in my routine to treat men who like... this sort of kinky shit, get one I'm saying? I'm here for pleasure, your pleasure. But I'm not exactly a woman who meets all types of men's need."

Chagall pursed his lips for a moment, raising a brow at her observation and his eyes dulled.  He received neither pleasure nor joy from this side of his work.  There was some satisfaction to be sure, in a job well done.  But that was far from now at this moment and Chagall turned away from her for a brief moment to clean-up and reclothe, fixing his shirt when he returned to her.  "How possessive exactly?" he asked, not untying her just yet. 

Starlight was scowling within her drapery prison. If only she had some sort of weapon or knife to cut herself out, but as it was- she was completely and utterly at this man's mercy, and she doubt fingernail's could do the job. She jutted out her chin almost defiantly when he went on to inquire. She could have spit on him.

"What do you think I mean? I'm a whore and my body is offered up to all paying men of the world. Let's just say this man seemed to be looking for some sort of.. permanent solution to his problem, if you know what I mean." And she made a displeased face towards him. "But I can't see how any of this can help you out. If you're looking for his killer..."
And here she paused, realizing she shouldn't be so forward as she huffed.
"You should have tried asking around to the other places he frequented. I'm sure they'd have more information than pointing you to just one whore."

"Funny you say that.  They pointed me to you," he said quietly.  He narrowed his eyes at her, starting to lose his patience, but he'd try pressing her a little more.  She could have only so many generic answers.

He grabbed her suddenly and peered up at the drapery around the bed and ripped it down, tearing it and binding it around her feet, tightly knotting it securely and pulling her up around the bar that held the curtains so that she was upside down. 

"Are you sure there wasn't anything else?" he asked, knotting the drapery so that it was secure and he raised a brow at her.  "Nothing else that stemmed outside of his usual puffery?"

Despite the situation, and the obvious tension between them, as she hung upside down she simply looked at her customer with a smirk.
"Sugar, you're wasting your time. Now you're a high class paying customer, and if this is how you get your kicks, I suppose I ain't one to complain. But surely, in this game, there can be more fun for us both. Or is it that you were hoping to share me with your friend? You seem to be quite concerned about him and what happened. A pity, maybe you were close- like brothers.  Sometimes I do allow threesomes - for a price. I'm sure we could have all had fun."

Chagall's expression didn't even budge.  "However tempting, no thank you.  But perhaps you are right.  You're pretty little head doesn't hold much at all.  Lucky for you I believe you."  He was testing with his words, though he didn't buy much himself.  He straightened and threw his coat back over his shoulders, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a heavy purse full of coin.  He placed it on her nightstand and moved back to her.

Leaning down he kissed her softly on the lips before brushing her cheek with the back of his hand and quirked a brow at her.  He turned around and headed for the door.

Starlight quirked her brow, smile never leaving her lips. And as he moved to pay her, her eyes followed him, but without much interest. Though as he reapproached her, she shifted her smile, to be more rightward than left. And when he kissed her, she raised her brows quizzically at him. The reaction was very unlike his sudden, cold and answer seeking persona he was now 'gifting' her with. But what surprised her the most was that he simply left-
and she was there, hanging about, and having to laugh.

"Guess real gentlemen truly are hard to find these days. Can't even help a lady out."
And she found herself having to wait until she was found by another- which unfortunately for her, would not be until the next morning when part of her money was to be collected by another whore so that STarlight could pay her dues.

The spark of a lighted match ignited the tip of a cigar that Chagall lightly puffed on and took a long drag as he leaned back in the alleyway he resided in.  He looked up at Starlight's window, up at the red-dimmed drapes and the silhouettes moving against it.  "I wonder if the working girl ever takes a night off," he muttered, chuckling to himself and taking another drag of his cigar.

"By the Spirits, Starlight!" Candy wailed, marking herself with her fingers when she came into her friend's room. "And here I thought I'd be getting a lesson when I tried to peep in ta see you, and now I find you all tied up."

"Don't sound so amused, Candy," Starlight told her friend with a roll of her eyes. "The sex was alright, but I don't think he was here to pay for that. I think he was looking for somethin' else."

"Somethin' else?" Candy blinked, then smirked playfully at her friend. "Like true love?" she teased, leaning over her friend's shoulder as she sat at her vanity and spoke the words real close to her ear.

Starlight swatted her away.
"True love, my ass. Nothing like that, love. He sounded like some sort of deranged detective, or some sort. He was talkin' about the murder-"

Candy tensed and pulled away from her friend.

"Does he know?" she whispered, growing pale.

Starlight turned t her, and glared something fierce.
"As if I'd give away our secrets," she hissed. "Now you know how we gotta be. Discrete as all hell. If that man had any idea we were there when it happened..."

A hand went to her throat.
"Do you think he'd kill us?"

Starlight rolled her eyes as she sighed.
"Honey, I don't know. I just fucked the man. How do I know what's going on behind those eyes of his? For all I know, he could have paid double to know he was fucking a murderer. I tried to play it off, too. But it seemed he wanted to remain as Mr. serious."

He crept alongside the roof when he found his snooping from afar to be momentarily tedious and sat within the shadow of the roof beside her window, where the structure jutted outward and allowed decent cover.  The voiced sounded slightly muffled from within but were more or less intelligible.

"What are we gonna do? Men like him don't come asking questions then don't act."

Starlight laughed.
"Oh, he acted alright."

"I meant revenge, Starlight. Ain't you scared?"

She said nothing for a time, still staring at her face in the mirror.
"No, I'm not." She turned to Candy. "And neither should you. We'll make sure the body is gone this evening. Just in case that man comes to sniff it out."

Candy shivered.
"Tonight? But don't you think the man will follow us?"

"If he does..." Starlight began ith a smirk. "You can distract him. Now come on, let's get ready before the boss comes up here. Can't have 'em finding us before we get a chance to sneak out."

"What will we say this time?"

Starlight laughed.
"What we always do."
And her eyes shined mirthfully. "That we're going out for some fun."

And it was in less than half an hour that two figures slipped out from the brothel and disappeared into the streets.

Chagall saw two women walking out of the brothel.  Just in time too.  He was starting to get bored.  Immediately he went over the roof and leapt to a nearby building.  Thankfully he had long since dashed out the light from his cigar and remained little more than a man taking a rooftop stroll.

If it wasn't for the obvious curves to their figures, because of their choice of clothing, Starlight and Candy looked like men. Perhaps this was one reason they were left relatively alone during their night time rendez-vous, but rumors were beginning to spread about these vigilantes, Starlight in particular, but also murmurs about her lady friends as well.

They seem to come out of no where, like cockroaches, some claimed, but who would have thought they'd come from the Randy Peach?

The two had but on destination in mind, but Starlight new better than to take the direct route. It wouldn't be safe, just in case they were being followed, and when she peered back to check, she could have sworn she had seen something in the shadows. But when she checked again, nothign was there.

That was a close one.  Damn she was fast.  But Chagall was faster and had ducked onto another roof swiftly.  He pressed against a jutting window, scampering down the other side and sliding down the slanted roof and bounding across a gap over an alley.

She made a round about way of doing it, but after going through the trade discrete, the pair nearly disappeared before appearing like shadows at the docks. The small river that snaked along the north of the city was more than a decent place to hide a body. But what better place than the river itself?


"I can't believe we're doing this, Starlight," Candy groaned in a whisper. Her partner hissed back.

"Don't use my name, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, Lady Night," she teased nervously.

"Besides, we shoulda done this last week. Not sure why anyone insisted on leaving the corpse here to rot."

"Yeah, but it wasn't our kill, remember?"

"I know," Starlight sighed, and gave Candy a pleading look. "Now come on. The back door ought to be unlocked. And if it ain't..."

"We'll simply pick it," Candy informed her with her best nonchalant shrug she could.

For a pair trying to be so sneaky and quiet, the dead themselves would wake from all the noise they were making.  Chagall chuckled as he mulled the thought over to himself from his perch just over a few riverside buildings.  The shanty's here were not very well built, but they served as suitable abodes for the people that called this place home.

He knew he couldn't stay on these tin roofs forever.  Sooner or later one of them would give way. 

Chagall scampered down to ground level, being sure to keep to the shadows, for there were many there so thickly splayed by the waterfront.  They didn't get far when he saw them again and his ears twitched, trying to listen in to their whispers.

He was close, close enough to smell Starlight's sweet perfume and he found himself grinning.  It didn't last.  They were suitable lure leading him to his intended prey.

Redan Gordrin was already dead, yes, but that wasn't important.  Somebody would have iced that thick-skulled meat bag one day or another.  It was unfortunate, in many aspects.  Redan was not a respectable man (who could boast that quality these days?), but he was a fast talker, smooth, and had an easy way about him that often made others at ease in his presence.  It was only though such a quality that allowed the bastard to bask in the trust of unscrupulous others that needed things done.

No, he wasn't quite like Chagall.  Blah, the very comparison made him sick to the gut!  Redan was neither reliable nor dependable; qualities he lacked in spades when pickled in gin.  He was a go between mostly.  Pick up something interesting, and if he thought he met someone in his travels that might need it, well, he ought to be obliged to hand it over.  And if something was traded in return, then he ought to be thankful for such a generous gift.  Especially if it didn't mean you were turned into choice cut jerky and sold at the local market.

At least you're not jerky, you stupid bastard, Chagall thought bitterly.

He refocused on where they were headed and continued to trail the pair.  It seemed they were headed toward a warehouse somewhere, where the river ran underneath it through a canal in the foundation.  Clever girl, he smirked, and moved along with them.

As they neared a dark area, tucked away from anything else, Starlight paused and whirled around suddenly. Candy nearly bumped into her and hissed, "Hey, what ya stopping for?"

"I thought I heard something," she whispered lowly, but upon further examination, whatever shadows that were moving, still.
"Perhaps we should come at another hour..."

"Another hour?" Candy groaned. "You know how hard it is for us to sneak out like this! Let's just d what we were here to do and do it quick."

As her 'accomplice' reached out for the door, Starlight grabbed her by the hand.

"No." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Let's... take a walk. Cool that head off of yours." And then she added, even more quietly, "I think we've been followed."

Chagall could practically feel her eyes on him, though he was certain he had not been spotted yet.  Of course, there was always that lingering doubt in the back of his mind.  Chagall moved from where he had been following them and slunk around the dark toward the back of the building, waiting for them to vacate the premises before he appraoched the open window above the warehouse.

And when he was sure the coast was clear, he slipped inside.

Candy groaned as the pair headed farther and farther away from their destination.
"Can we go back yet?"

"No."

"You're making me all antsy."

Starlight shook her head.

"Look, if we're being followed, we want to get the shadow off our scent."

Candy rolled her eyes.

"And who's to say we even were followed? I haven't seen any mysterious shadows since we've turned away. I say we head back."

Starlight held her tongue and kept waking, but after a few moments she sighed.
"Fine, let's head back."

"Finally," Candy hissed, and put some extra speed in her step, as Starlight glared at her, but followed at a more nonchalant speed.

Chagall waited a few minutes to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light coming in through the windows from the moon.  He slunk through the rafters, dropping down behind some crates.

It would be some time before the two women in men's clothing showed up, and their entrance wasn't as nearly as stealthy as Chagall's, for as they entered, not only did the door creak open, but Candy's whispers sounded like the hissings of a snake.

And her big butt made the floorboards creek underneath her.  Chagall had tried to search for the body, following his nose.  But it must have been buried under something strong because he found nothing.  He supposed it was better to just wait and see.

Starlight nearly smacked Candy for making so much noise.

"What? I can't help it if the door creaks!" Candy snapped back, but Starlight only glared.

"Come on. Let's make this quick."

"What? Before the shadow gets us?"
Starlight made another face at her friend.

"You want me to leave you outside? You know I can deal with this alone."

And it was here Candy backed off, and actually apologized.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's my fault this all happened."

"No, don't start that again. All for one and one for all, remember?"

OOC: lol

Chagall held his breath while they bickered, moving though the warehouse more quietly after Starlight's reprimand.  Chagall followed them as they moved toward the back and his foot landed on a broken piece of glass, crunching it underneath his heel and echoing all through out the building.

Both the women froze.

"Shit, did you hear that?"

Starlight reached for her whip.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" the woman barked, trying her best to keep her voice low and indistinguishable of her gender.

Chagall held his breath, unable to find another place to move and reaching down feelingly to where the broken glass lay and trying to find an empty place.  He carefully stepped around it and crawled to where more crates were.  He saw a few jutting out and climbed atop them, placing himself in an open slit with a clear view of candy and starlight.

"Yeah, come out and show yourself!" Candy chimed in, in a less convincing manly voice.

"We're not messing around. Show yourself or else!" And Starlight only waited another moment before dashing off to where she heard the noise from.

That was when boxes from above came tumbling down.  The crates were heavy and even Chagall had to move them with some effort, falling to where he had shattered the glass.

Starlight let out a yelp as she felt the weight of the pointy, cumbersome boxes fall upon her- pinning her to the ground and pressing glass into her back. By the Gods, that was goign to leave a mark. She swore up a storm through her teeth- she'd have a hell of a time explaining that one to her boss.

And just as the boxes were settling, Candy raced to Starlight's aid, drawing out a sharpened pair of playing cards and calling out, "Whoever is there, this is your last warning! Card trick's got a few things up her sleeve, and feeding you a hand of justice is one of them!"

Chagall wanted to laugh at the line, but he still didn't make a noise as he took a smaller crate in hand and launched it out at Candy, and did so with a series of other boxes, before tossing down another large set of crates.

Starlight could hear the attack and the clattering of boxes from where she lay, still pinned down beneath the heavy crates. Grunting and wriggling, she tried to get herself free, but each time she moved, the glass continued to shred her.

'Yeah... definitely going to have a hard time explaining this one!' she inwardly swore, all the while Candy let out a yelp.

"Hey, box man, ain't you got something better to do than make a mess o' this place?" Candy cut out to the shadows, dodging each attack with ease.

Chagall cursed her agility before slipping a cloth over his face and hair and slipping into the shadows, ceasing his box assault.  As long as one of them was momentarily indisposed, he could bother with one at a time and he pulled the knife from his belt, clutched tightly within his gloved hands. 

He slipped down from the other side and moved until he was behind Candy, holding the blade at the ready to cut her throat.

Starlight was able to see the shadows dance behind Candy while she still struggled beneath the crates.
"Behind you!" she barked out, and at just the last second, Candy whirled around and barely evaded the blade.

Chagall inwardly cursed and he struck outward with the knife, intending to cut across her belly, lunging forward, but keeping his posture light in case he needed to sidestep.  He did, pushing his way out of the shadows and quickly kicking low to try and knock her legs out from under her.

He might have kicked low, but she kicked high, heavy boot aiming for his knife wielding hand.

Chagall held tight to the knife as her kick knocked it back and he staggered backwards, falling on his side.

Quick as she could, Card Trick retorted with a second kick towards his hand. It was best to get the man weaponless before dealing with who he even was. Frankly, she didn't want to be skewered by some dude in a warehouse, especially when some OTHER dude's skewered remains resided there.

Chagall scurried to his feet in what short time remained between kicks and was determined to keep hold of his blade.  His other arm came up and snatched hold of her ankle and he pulled her forward, hopefully to yank her off balance and slashed his knife at her leg.

Candy hadn't expected the grab, so when he took a hold of her ankle, she let out a yelp and found herself falling onto her back. Winded, she grit her teeth, heart beating heavily into her ears as she feared the worst-
but instead of just giving up, she decided to keep on fighting- even if blindly- and suddenly her other, ungripped leg shot out- and she kicked and kicked towards whatever it was that would dare come at her.

Chagall kept his distance, but turned around, keeping his grip on her let and dragging her along with him, away from where he left Starlight beneath the boxes and he tried to pin her other leg down, even going out of his way to try and step on it.  "Hold still!" he growled and soon tried to pin her beneath his body.

"Hold still my ass! Get off of me!" Candy said, jutting out her chin defiantly. "Or I promise to make you pay for this!"

"It will be simpler if you hold still," he growled and smashed a knee into her ribs.  He placed the blade at her throat.  "The body.  Where is it?"

Candy let out a gasp, feeling the blade at her throat. Shit just got real! She felt her heart hammering inside her ears as her eyes went from the blade, up to the man above her.
"What body?" she told him curtly.

Chagall tired of playing games and knew this  would go nowhere fast.  He narrowed his eyes before he suddenly reached down and got a steady grip of her hair before dragging her off into the darkness.

Candy let out a yelp as she was dragged off, and all Starlight could do was call out to her, and swear when she struggled and continued to be wedged beneath the crates. That man would pay!

Chagall stopped dragging her along and threw her against a large wooden crate.  He leaned down and slashed across the inside of her thigh with his blade and stuck his fingers deep into the cut.  He pushed down hard, opening up the wounds with his gloved hand and used his dagger-wielding hand to press the blade against her throat.

"The body.  Tell me now.  The only thing keeping you from bleeding out is my hand. Slowly but surely.  Tell me where it is," Chagall murmured, his tone almost bored.

Candy let out a scream. The pain was just too much as tears bubbled out from her eyes. She panicked at the thought of dying here and found herself sputtering out, "I... I know which crate he's in... "
Oh, Starlight, forgive her! "It's not too far from here, neither," she told him, trying to force a smile, but through her trembling, it was erased anyway as tears streamed down her face. She felt so weak, so pathetic. Why did this have to happen? How could she have let herself get caught?

Chagall's expression was without any emotion at all.  "Where?" he said pointedly.  "Show me.  Now."

Candy swore.
"You expect me to show you with your finger jammed into my leg? Gods.. it hurts," she winced.

Chagall pushed the wound open a little more.  "You're damned right!" he growled.  But he grabbed her soon enough and dragged her too her feet.  "Move."

Candy released another sigh and stumbled when she was righted. The wound hurt immensely, and she winced towards her captor. She had so many vile things to say to him, but she held her tongue and turned away and pointed towards a nearby corner. "Over there. Help me walk over there and I'l show you."

Chagall grabbed her by the arm, supporting her that way, and simultaneously maintaining control over her if he had to.  He helped her walked along, half-dragging her really and leaving a trail of blood in the wood flooring behind them.

By Gods, this was a nightmare! Candy never had experienced so much pain in her life! She just wanted it to be over, but it seemed each step she took was like a thousand hours of passing time. By the time they finally made it near where the corpse was hidden, her eyes were teared from the pain and her entire being- flushed.

Panting, she pointed her finger to a locked chest buried between two larger crates.

"In there-" she said. "In the locked chest. You'll find him."

She just hoped this corpse was worth, whatever it was to this man, and it would be of no consequence to them! The 'ladies' were hardly known to be killers- so if something like this were to get out... who knew what would happen! And she'd rather not have to go to jail-
She had a feeling if she DID get sent to prison- it would be worse than this.
Then again.. as she considered it, if she were caught up in a murder, she'd likely be hanged.

When she pointed him to the body, Chagall stood immediately.  He walked over to the locked chest and noticed the lock.  He picked up an iron bar and slammed at the lock until it snapped open and he flipped the lid.  If the smell of the body inside the box fazed him at all, he didn't show it.  Instead he pulled up the dead man by the coat and identified the face.  He was stiff, taking the shape of the box and Chagall sniffed.

"Poor bastard.  Deserved no less either."  He rifled through his coat and pockets, looking for something.  But it was missing.  The document packet was gone.  Chagall felt his face turn flush and he shook his head, looking back at Candy with narrowed eyes.  "Did you kill him?" he growled.

"How did he die?  And answer me truthfully and quickly. My patience is wearing thin."

Candy grit her teeth.
"It was... it was sort of an accident..... Look, we don't aim on killing nobody, alright? That's just not in our bag of tricks."

Chagall ripped a piece of cloth from the dead man's jacket, turning it into a long strip and dusting it off.  "What happened?  I want every detail," he said, wrapping both ends of the cloth in both hands.

Candy watched him nervously.
"What's there to tell? The man was up to no good and we found out. Took it upon ourselves to serve justice, seeing how the guards in Ketra just ignored him. But the plan... Well, backfired. And that man wasn't going down without a fight. And there was only one tough choice we had to make. And that sir, is how you get yourself a bondafide corpse."

Chagall tightened his grip on the cloth wraps and took a step toward her.  "Up to no good how?" he asked gently.  He knelt down beside her thigh and began to bind the wound, sealing the bleeding.

Candy was so stunned she couldnt speak. What was he doing?

Chagall looked up at Candy expectantly.  "Well?" he said, waiting for an answer before he continued sealing the wound.  If she didn't answer fast she could just as easily bleed out, and he could care less.

When Candy finally found her tongue, she muttered, "He... he...."

"He murdered a good friend, that's what," Came Starlight's voice as she approached, a ragged mess from having scrambled out from beneath the crates that had once entrapped her. "And a lot more than just that. Let's just say the unfortunate events were just justice served to him by fate."

At that, Chagall had turned to Starlight, curious as to how she freed herself.  He managed to keep the alarm out of his voice, and though he was wearing a mask, he would have hid it from his face as well. 

"Interesting," he said as he finished binding the very cut he had caused.  He stepped back and toward the body.  "He had something on his person.  Something important he was supposed to deliver.  That's all I want and I'll be on my way...  It isn't here, or I would have it in my hand already."

Starlight looked carefully between her sister peach and the other. It was strange- all of them were wearing masks, yet the two staring at one another right now knew exactly who the other was.
"And you couldn't have just asked for it first?" she asked prettily, but there was a bit of fire in her words.

Chagall grinned under the mask.  "I did," he replied plainly.  "But it's a bit difficult to ask questions when the blades are flying.  Or when your targets scurry like rats."

Starlight cut him a dark look.
"What's your game then? I doubt we have or even know anything about the document you seek. We're not... into paperwork."

"No I suppose not then," Chagall replied and looked at both of them darkly.  "You might want to tend to your friend."  He stepped back from the dim lighting and kicked the chest that had the dead body of Redan Gordrin.  And he shook his head.  "Stupid bastard."

Starlight's eyes were dark in return.
"Is that the only reason you were here?" Figures a deceitful man like this, one somehow associated with the deceitful dead, would take on this assignment. His employers probably paid him for the fuck. And she didn't like the idea of sleeping with the enemy.
"Or rather, let me rephrase that... Are you leaving the city now, now that you've came to see what you've come to see?"

Chagall met her gaze.  "No.  I'm afraid my task has only just begun.  What I seek is missing.  And since you don't have it, I cannot leave until I find it," he said plainly.  "I could care less about Gordrin.  He had a big mouth and someone would have shut him up eventually.  We're all better off with him in his current state."

"We're all better off with a lot of things and people," Starlight replied, curtly. "What is so important to you you'd come alone, anyway? Not that it's any of my business... but... You just made it my business."

"Because if you want something done correctly, you do it yourself," Chagall replied and guaged Starlight in her seemingly growing irritation.  "But you're involvement ends here.  Walk away while you can."

"I intend to... but you'd better not cross paths with us again- at least not in this manner," she warned.

At that he actually grinned under his mask.  "I go where the trail leads me," he said.  "I could care less about Gordrin or what he did.  But what he had is mine.  Thank you for your cooperation.  Makes my job a lot easier."  He bowed and turned to leave.

Starlight cut him a look as he departed. His trail better not lead him back here. Or else... she vowed he'd pay for what he put her and Candy through today.

It wasn't their fault they crossed paths with Gordrin, it was just an unfortunate coincidence and Chagall was intent on not having any further distractions.  However, it was a shame that all other leads ran dry.  Gordin got around, but he stayed so much closer to the Randy Peach than he estimated before.  And there was only one person who might have the information he would need.

He waited in the darkness, sitting in a chair in a corner of Starlight's room where he awaited for her client to finish fucking her and struck a match to ignite the room when he left.  He ignited a smoke and puffed on it.

Starlight turned around with a start. Seeing the fire dancing on his face, she scowled.
"What the hell are you doing here? This room's private. If you wanted to stay here.. you should have paid for the show."

"Why bother? It was awfully short," Chagall said with an incline of his head.  He took a long drag on his cigar.  "I need to speak to the other girl," he said plainly.  "The one from the warehouse."

Starlight was busying cleaning herself off, the sweat on her body had mingled with the glitter and was making her feel hotter than she'd like. She even took the time to brush out her long, dark hair before slipping into a sheer robe and approached him.
"What makes you think I know anything about her? And if I did, why makes you think I'd tell you anything?"

He tilted his head at her, playing coy.  "Because I know the both of you work here, darling.  I only want to speak with her, seeing as she had the most contact with our mutual corpse."

Her eyes narrowed.
"I warned you to stay away from us. Besides... men have to pay to get in here. Shall I ring the guard?"

Chagall's smile shrunk, just slightly.  "You'd be in pieces before they could even get through the door.  Besides, all I want to do is talk.  If I wanted you dead, don't you think you would be?"  He stood from his chair and took another drag on his cigar.

"Apparently you think talk is cheap." She eyed him and the way his cigar lit up his face.
"How about you ask me the question you want to ask her and I can see if I can't get you answers."

Chagall had the courtesy to blow the smoke away from her face.  He frowned however.  "And why must you mediate?" he asked, clearly displeased.  "I don't care that she killed Gordrin or if it was an accident.  That is none of my affair.  But I must ask her about the last moments he was alive.  I don't think that's too much to ask."

"It is too much to ask when I don't trust you. But.. I figure you're resourceful enough to get to my friend one way or another. But she's not here right now. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

Chagall was trying desperately to remain civil.  He took another drag on the cigar.  "I've got all night.  I can wait for her."  Indeed he was resourceful, but most of those resources would find Candy dead and so he said nothing of the matter.

"I'm afraid without paying you're not allowed to be here, but I suppose exceptions can be made."
He wasn't the only one losing his patience, but she knew better than to keep playing with fire.
"So what brings you into my room instead of looking for my friend? If you're so inclined to believe she also works here."

She had a point and Chagall would have smacked himself for his own foolishness.  Instead he smiled and reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, and slapped it on the table.  He had to maintain his travel expenses.

"Because I remembered this room and admired the atmosphere.  That, and I followed you both to the warehouse from this location.  That, and I like the decor."

She looked from the coin, then back to him.
"It still doesn't answer my question."

Chagall looked at her with one furrowed brow.  He pushed the smoke through his nostrils and his eyes burned.  "Why don't you tell me why you think I did?"

"Apparently for a free show, but what's a whore to know?" ANd she moved away from him to sit at her vanity. "Now I told you already, sugar, my friend ain't here. Come back tomorrow and maybe we can all.... talk." And she worked at removing her star-shaped earrings and other accessories from her hair.

"Maybe I'm just curious," Chagall said, lingering in the background, mostly hidden in shadow and the only thing that alit was the glow of the end of the cigar as he puffed on it.  "What does a girl like you get out of dressing up like a man and going on a vigilante spree?"

Starlight tensed at his question, but went back to fussing over her hair.
"I could ask you the same thing."

He caught that tension and grinned inwardly.  But he kept casually taking drags on his cigar.  "My jobs requires a certain flexibility," he answered.  "But I am well-paid for my ventures.  You?  You do it for fun I imagine?"

She could have rolled her eyes but instead, just ignored him. There were a lot of stars in her hair to take out, after all.

"You're making more knots," Chagall said idly and moved behind her.  "Like this," he said and put the cigar down by a tea platter, securing it.  He took another brush and brushed the under side of her hair, plucking out the stars by hand. 

Starlight, not seeming too happy he'd just help himself to her hair, just glared up at him and gave a snort.
"So do you moonlight as a whore as well? Didn't know stars were your thing. I'd see you as more of a moon man, myself."

[I love that she's all |8* and he's just helping himself]

At that he barked a laugh.  "No.  But I know one in your profession needs her looks and nobody likes a nappy head,"  Chagall just worked quietly, removing the stars and throwing them on the vanity table and brushing her hair until the knots were free.

"Yes, but that's reserved for the customer."

Chagall gave a small grin at her, a predatory one and said nothing as he continued to comb through her hair.  When the brush was through, he ran his fingers through it, paying attention to detail.

As.nice as it.was to have her hair fussed over,that grin he wore made her uneasy. And seeing how he was finished, shestood up and moved over towards her bed and began to gather up the dirty sheets.

He took her seat by the vanity and resumed his cigar smoking, watching her clean up, content just to be quiet for now.  She was nice to look at, beautiful even, but he was not one to be solely taken with her looks.  She had a fire in her belly, one that was admirable, particularly in her desire to protect her friends.  If Chagall was here for any other reason, he might have offered her a job, even protection.  But it seemed she could handle that herself.

"You know I should be charging you ten gold for the damage you've done here. My back.." she siad, getting up and staring over at him. "You know how hard it is to lay a man when each time he fucks you a pain shoots through your entire body? And I'm not talking about bruises, honey, I'm talking about something I need to rest off in a job I can't rest off. Thankfully the man was quick with his pleasure." And she threw the dirty sheets at his feet.
"You can't stay here."

Chagall put the cigar aside and kicked the sheets aside.  "Lay on the bed," he said.  "Belly down.  Let me see your back."  He stood and gestured for her to obey.

Starlight stared at him as if he were crazy and shook her head.
"The only time I'll turn my back to you won't be on a bed," she told him, eyeing him up. "Besides... it'll heal. I'm a big girl. I'll just... have to deal with it. Suppose it's part of the job, ain't it? Getting a bit scuffed up by big, bad old men?"

Chagall rolled his eyes.  "Lay down.  Please," he said and waited beside her expectantly.  "I have more than just a killing touch, darling."

And she walked right up to him, getting into his face as she told him darkly, "And I ain't a fan of any of your touches."A nd she looked him over before her eye's returned to his. "Not anymore. So you can just take a seat by the vanity again and I'll go back to cleaning my bed."

Chagall tired of playing nice and reached across to her and grabbed her by the wrists, turning her around and throwing her on the bed.  He followed after and pushed her down, enough to keep her down before reached down and putting light pressure on her spine and finding where a small lump resided.  "Hold still," he said.  "Your back needs to be readjusted."  And when he found the lump, he gave a sharp jerk and popped it back into place, working his hands delicately along her back.

Starlight protested where she could, but the sudden crack to her back silenced her. And the way his hands worked on her body felt heavenly ... Not that she'd tell him that!

Chagall kept his hands trained along her spine, finding another area that was unaligned and he popped it back into place.  "You can moan if you want to," he said, focusing on her lower back.

"I think you and I have different definitions of moaning," she said through a sigh.

"Perhaps.  But I doubt we have different definitions of what feels good," he said curiously as his hands went up along her back and down her spine again, feeling her familar curves and commiting them to memory.  "You have a strong supple body.  As I'm sure you well know."

"You don't get this way from riding horses all day, that's for damn sure." But after she thought about it, she added, "Though I suppose some say I do."

"Hm, well, people say lots of things.  Sometimes they don't know when to shut up," he said and turned his hands up to her shoulders.  "You so tense."

She grunted.
"That's because you showed up. I should have been atleast somewhat relaxed after a lay."

"Ha," he muttered a shatp laugh.  "As if you could even call all that flopping around relaxing.  He was like a fish out  on a dock."

"Hey, whatever pleases the customer. Either way, we get paid."

"I know what you mean," he muttered, a small note of displeasure in his voice as he recalled what his own occupation entailed.  There was much he would rather do in comparison.  But it paid well and he was the man to do it.

"So you are admitting you're a whore?" she asked, daring a peek a glance at him before she paused to observe him.
"What is it that you really want?" And she asked him as if asking him off the record. Both were bound by payment, but it seemed both had their own... style and way of things. And so far he hadn't drawn a weapon or poison to kill her. SO what really was his game?

Or was he just a man in the end? And the idea of what she, as a woman, could give...
Was it that that fueled him here? Or was he that clumsy at his job? Somehow she hardly believed the latter.

Chagall looked at her from where he sat on the side of the bed.  He paused in his motions from rubbing her shoulders and he said nothing for a while.  "I came to talk.  So we're talking, aren't we?" he said, giving a small grin, almost playful for someone like him.

"People like us don't just talk."

"A point well played, Starlight," he said with an agreeing nod.  "And what do you suggest we do instead?  I have all night.  I suppose this is what you might call my downtime.  And so little of it I think either of us get."

She could have snorted. Maybe she did. Turning around so she was resting on one elbow, she looked him over before saying, "Sleep. You wouldn't believe the lack of sleep a girl has to work on in my... condition."

"Then sleep.  You'll sleep much better now with your back all in the right places now," he said with a small grin.  "I won't bite.  I promise."

Starlight cut him a look as she turned around.
"That's like trusting a viper in my room." She adjusted her robe so she was more modest.
"So you're really planning to spend the whole night?"

"Yes," he said, rather resolutely.  "Where else would I go?  I'm sure it must be shocking to hear, a man staying the entire night."

"An unpaid man," she said, but then eyed where he placed the gold coin. "What's that for anyhow? Not like paying me will get me to tell you nothin'. And besides," she said, slipping so she was sitting now by the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side before she crossed them. "You weren't here for me, remember? So why not go have fun with another girl to pass the time? I'm sure you'd know by now how much us women like to squeal. I'm sure you could find my friend through.. other means."

"Because I want you," he said with a tilt of his head.  "The coin, simply a gesture."

He gestured to the bed.  "Go to sleep.  When your friend arrives, we can all talk."

She simply stared at him and challenged, "And if I refuse? One thing is for sure, I do not trust you. Why would I sleep knowing there's a shark lurking in my waters?"

"Because a shark only hunts when he has smelled blood.  And because I have no treason to taste you blood.  I am a gentleman if nothing else," he said a look of sincerity.

"Gentlemen implies one being gentle." And she knew he was not, as evident from the bruises on her- and those injuries on her friend.

Chagall turned his brow inward, almost amused at her tone.  "A valid point," he said and grinned.  "However, even you're not so gentle.  I'm aware you never said you were.  But I'd wager we're alike than different."

"I'm a whore," she replied bluntly.

"But you are not your occupation," Chagall said levelly, looking at her eye to eye.  "Inside you yearn for something more, something real.  But you do what you have to in order to survive."

Starlight merely looked at him. She could have laughed.
"And you make a lot of presumptions for a man who's fucked me once, tried to fuck me up once, and is now trying to find my friend to fuck her. Sorry, doll, but what's real is real, and surviving we might be, but don't pretend you know me." She shook her head. "I ain't that simple."

Chagall nodded to her.  It was a fair enough evaluation.  "I know what I see, what I feel," he said, looking at her with speculative eyes.  "But you're smart not to trust me, you would do well, not to trust anyone.  Just know that I mean no one any harm unless I am crossed.  Until then, I play nice.  You should also know it was not my intention to hurt you in the warehouse, only to prevent you from following.  It was an unfortunate side effect.  Never the less, you have my apologies. Whatever that's worth."

Starlight crossed her arms across her chest.
"Well you can take your apology and shove it up your ass." And there was a moment's pause before she stood up, looking about ready to chew the man out when suddenly her door was thrown open and in rushed Candy, where the most colorful assortment of candies that barely covered her body as they bounced along when she rushed.

"Starlight! Starlight!" But Candy stopped abruptly at the sight of Chagall- and just stared before she heard Starlight swear.

Chagall just smiled at Starlight's response and when Candy came into the room, he stood up, casually strolling to where he left his cigar and dashing off the ashes and putting it back into his mouth.  "It's about time you showed up," he said.  "I was afraid one of us was about to get laid," he said nonchalantly.

Starlight glared and stood up, getting between Candy and Chagall.
"If by laid you mean a kick to the balls, then yes."

Candy looked nervously from Chagall to Starlight.
"Starlight... what's going on? What's he doing here?"

Chagall grinned and gestured to Candy.  "To have a talk, that's all," he said.  "More specifically with you."

Candy's jaw was still dropped as she looked back and forth between them.
"Uhh..."

"And with me," Starlight cut in, her look equally cutting to Chagall.

"Of course.  The more the merrier," he said darkly and gestured to what chairs remained in Starlight's room.  He took the one he had sat in, and brought it to the middle, beside a set of chairs beside the window.  He took the opportunity to sit down and gestured to the others.  "Please."

Despite not liking this or trusting him, both girls sat down and remained quiet- all eyes on him.

Chagall looked at the pair and then his eyes honed in on Candy.  "I simply wanted to ask about our mutual dead associate.  Who was he speaking to prior to his interaction with you?  Did you think anyone suspicious around him?  Someone that may have followed you to where you stashed the body?"

"What you mean besides you?" Candy said, with as much attitude as she could muster.

"Precisely," he said, eyes boring into her.

"What makes you think I'd remember any of those sorts of details?"

"Because every avenue is worth pursuing.  Do you remember anything?" he said, trying to be as polite as possible.

"What?" she cracked a smile. "Starlight's answers weren't good enough for you now you're looking to hit me up with questions? Please, Starlight knows as much of the details as I do. So not sure what you're trying to accomplish here but asking me."

"Really?"  He grinned back.  "How's your leg?"

Candy glared at him and was about to spit out something else when Starlight put up a hand to stop her.

"Look, we were both there that night. Nothing looked suspicious to us- outside of the ordinary. YOu have to realize, the whole situation was suspicious or we wouldn't have even be there."

"That's not good enough," Chagall said, standing abruptly and there was a cold anger brewing inside of him.  He walked toward the window.  "If neither of you took the package, somebody did.  And I'm not leaving until I have it."  He looked back at the pair of them, the message clear in his eyes that if either of them were lying he'd skin them alive.

"Package?" Candy made a face. What did he mean? He was looking for something particular? Starlight was equally clueless, but when Chagall stood suddenly- Candy recalled something.

"Wait... what sorta package?"

Chagall weighed exactly how much to tell them.  They were both already involved, and if they spoke, he'd cut both of their throats personally.  After he skinned them of course.  He looked at Candy and turned to her.  "An envelope, something Gordrin was supposed to deliver.  He was a go-between, a courier of sorts.  He wasn't known for his discretion and it's very possible he said something to someone else he wasn't supposed to."

"Well, maybe the guy was a bit smarter than we all gave him credit for- since we did search his person... mostly, after we kinda did him in," Candy admitted, uneasily shuffling her arms that were crossing her chest. "Maybe he put it away somewhere, knowing we was following him?"

Chagall stared at Candy, wondering what was going on in her head in her wondrous speculation.  "You offer a possible outcome, but moreover from the statement that he didn't have it when you killed him.  And just where do you think he might've stashed such a thing?"  His eyes glaring at her.

"He did make a few stops before comin' around here," Candy pointed out. "We followed him to each one. But he was always with someone. Nehmmick at the South House Saloon, Trey and Devon at Willow's Inn. Hell, even at the Randy Peach he had stayed close to someone."

"And you know who these men are?  How do you know their names?  Simply by listening in?" he asked, his curiosity now piqued and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Candy intently.

"Well, yeah, what do you think we do all night? Fuck men and that's it?" Candy replied sassily. "And a few of these men are locals. In fact, most of them even frequent the Peach."

At that Chagall smiled and bowed his head to the lady.  She might be a whore, but she was still a lady.  In her own way, of course.  "Then what are we sitting around here for.  You'll take me to these men.  I want to know everything you know about them and more.  You'll be rewarded for you cooperation, that I can promise you."

At that, Candy stopped to blink before she laughed.
"You've got to be joking. Go right now? Please. I still have two other men to please before the night's up. I just came in here on my short break to check in on Starlight."

And at that, Starlight only shrugged.

"As you can see.. we've got a busy schedule," Starlight added. "It might be best we deal with this in the morning. Not as many men pay for a fuck at that hour so chances are, w might be free."

"And the rats scurry away with the light," Chagall said pointedly.  "Your men can enjoy each other for all I'm sure they're paying you.  I can compensate each of you for time lost.  I insist we leave now.  The sooner the better."

The women exchanged looks.
"It doesn't exactly work that way. We can't go against our orders. A customer is a customer, and they've already paid," Starlight reminded him.

Chagall rolled his eyes.  "Then give them their money back and tell them you're already booked for the night," he repeated, clenching his teeth.

Saved by a knock at the door, a woman's voice came through, "Starlight,  is Candy in there with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Her clients here. I escorted him to her room. Tell her to get her ass over there. The man's ready to go!"

Chagall crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the both of them, silent.

Starlight glared back even sharper.
"I'll escort her personally in a minute!"

And with her hands on her hips, she moved to Candy's side.
"Looks like you'll have to be patient. The world doesn't all stop just for you."

Needless to say Chagall was not happy with that little interruption.  He stayed where he was in Star Light's room when she would return.  "Just you will do then," he said.

She folded her arms across her chest.
"My, aren't we impatient. But it shows dedication, I'll give you that."

"I don't have time to waste," Chagall replied steadily.  He looked her over.  "You alone, will do.  Get ready, if you would."  He felt something want to roll off his tongue as he looked at her, but to him it burned like acid.

"Please."

Lifting a brow at the please, Starlight smirked.
"My, you must be desperate. But alright, just give me a moment. Can't exactly go out like this." And she gestured towards her attire before stepping behind her changing screen.

Oh, he could've strangled her then and there and been satisfied with throwing the whole building in an uproar for it.  He glowered at her, watching her in stewing silence throught he screen.

And she could feel that glowering through the screen. It only served to make her smile broaden as she took her time to get dressed.
"So where are we going? Any place exciting?"

"Indeed.  It would be positively...titillating," he said and soured a smirk.  Well, if she was going to take her time, he might as well enjoy the show, and watched her get dressed with interest.

STarlight had no reason to be modest around this man. He had fucked her, after all. And he was also a threat to her and her 'sisters'. So let him look. It could very well be his last time, as she slipped into more comfortable and suitable clothing, while also slipping a hidden dagger away...
Just in case.

She didn't trust this man as far a she could throw him and stepped out from behind the dressing screen with a coy smile and nod.

"There, all ready," she went on with a fluff to her hair. "I take it you're more than ready to go?"

"Of course," he said and moved toward the window.  He unlatched it and opened it for her.  "I'd prefer we do not be seen.  Ladies first."

"Well, you'd better put that puffed out ego in check," she told him as she stepped up to the window. "It's big enough to give us away no matter what the time of day."
Slipping out the window, she paused before looking down to him.
"Need a hand, sugar? Or can the man handle this little window all by himself?"

Chagall actually gave her a smile at the mention of his puffed up ego.  He wouldn't encourage that with a response and instead slipped out of the window after her, closing it gently and making his way down the roof, landing with a soft tap when he landed in the alley below her.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pinning them back.  "Candy mentioned Gordrin frequented South House Saloon and Willow's Inn.  Which one is closer?" he asked.

Starlight couldn't help but smirk.
"You're looking at it."
Turns out the Willow's Inn was the Peach's neighbor.

"Of course," Chagall said with a disappointed huff.  He should have known Gordrin didn't have the imagination to map out his frequented locations better.  He walked around the side of the building and quietly stepped toward the front.  "Shall we go in?" he said, gesturing to Starlight.

At that, she laughed.
"Just go in? And here I thought you wanted to be secret about it," she went on with a flip of her hair. "Sugar, if we're going in the front door, we'll have to either be discrete or loud about it. Just about every man in this town knows me, and I ain't exactly dressed for such an occasion."

Chagall motioned to the corner, grabbing her wrist and tugging her along.  "Then let's go in through the back," he said and approached the rear entrance.  He opened the door for her and came in from behind.  The back way was filled with dirty glasses, cloth and bottles but he pushed her through nevertheless.  At least he was a gentleman about it.

Such a gentleman, pushing the lady to go through first. Thankfully, even as the glass crunched lightly beneath her, barely any of it bit at her skin. Even still, this was not a favorable way to make entry, and once she was clear of the majority of the debris, she cast a look back to Chagall, waiting to see if he'd follow and hopefully, not make a sound.

Chagall did so, long legs moving though the debris quietly, like a cat bounding on through.  He came in behind her and closed the door gently upon entry.  Those working in the back gave them odd looks, but otherwise didn't raise any questions.

Starlight tried to remain cool, uncertain what Chagall wanted her to do, so she simply waited for him to lead. However, if she was who he wanted to lead, she'd have to think up something and fast, since she had no idea where he wanted to go in here in particular. But the longer they hung aroun dhere...
The ones ignoring them were bond to ask questions. And she didn't want to get any sort of reputation with the place next door. Her boss would be pissed. She is, after all, leaving the Peach without permission...
But she supposed she could claim her 'employer' paid for it anyway.

Damn man. Figures he couldn't be like any other paying customer!

"Trey and Devon," Chagall whispered to her.  "Do you know who they are?  What they look like?"  They wandered near the main room, but not quite within it yet, just lingering in the hallway as the patrons drank and laughed and music began to play.  At that moment, Chagall did not ask before he swept Starlight off into a lively dance.

She was lucky that he light on his feet.  At least they could blend in a little better this way.

"Trey and Devon?" she repeated, but before she could think,s he was swept off her feet and found herself dancing. Though a lot of the men knew who she was, not too many took too much time to study them, and when Starlight felt a bit more at ease, she gave Chagall a frown.

"Devon, I have no idea, probably someone close to Trey. But Trey..." And her eyes flickered over to some hulking man in the corner, sitting there with at least five other men, appearing as equally buff and gruff. "The guy in the middle over there, that's him."
She knew him better than she wanted to admit. After all, he had been a paying customer at one time or another. Even Candy had gone for a ride with him. And though Trey was... pretty well endowed, that was really all he had going for him. Though Trey was a man she could hve killed- after all, he had gotten Candy pregnant. Thankfully there were... ways to remove that problem before it was too late. But Candy had almost died for it. The jackass. He had forced Candy not to use her enchanted protection and well...

She'd rather not think about the rest.

"Hm," he said, as he continued to dance with her.  He was remarkably light on his feet, though he was not a heavy man, and he danced with Starlight wonderfully.  Chagall considered how he might approach the man, who seemed he was getting comfortable getting deep in the cups.

"He looks like an asshole," he said bluntly, his expression showing no great deal emotion in the matter.  But it was clear from the get-go that he didn't much care for him.  "Appearances, I suppose, can differ from reality, but you don't sound too pleased, or look as much to see him.  Am I correct?"

"I'd ask if you could blame me, but I'm pretty sure you don't have a conscience."

"You seem certain of a lot of things.  I'm sure life has taught you to trust your instincts.  I can respect that.  And in response to your first statement, no, I wouldn't blame you."  He said.  His face flickered with that of a smile and he was handsome, perhaps,she caught that grin.  He work rarely ever gave him cause to do so.

Small talk was what it was, all talk and without substance. But she couldn't help herself as she looked at him with some disdain before stating, "So what's your plan anyway? Dance around until we've caught his attention? Or are you the sort who likes to go into battle with guns blazing? Though.. you seem the more quiet, calculating type. Are you stalking this man as if you were a beast? It seems you're being rather careful in evaluating your prey."

Chagall wouldn't admit it but he didn't really have a plan.  He was accustomed to having one, however, but he just had to resort to the old instincts of thinking on his feet.  He knew this wasn't his turf, and in the way of all rivals, the longer he overstayed his welcome the worse things were likely to become.

"I need to get him alone, I'm afraid.  In a crowded room, with his friends at his back, the statistics weigh in his favor, not mine."  He didn't initially pull forth the idea of using Starlight as lure.  And it seemed he didn't have to, when Trey clearly caught sight of the pair, dancing to a lively jig no less, with a complete and utter stranger.

"Oi, Star Light!  Over here!  Why don't you let me 'ave a dance?  It'd be the first time we'd a-done it while still on our feet!"  And Trey threw his head back and cackled, quickly followed by the men around him.

Starlight was clenching her jaw so tight that it began to hurt. But she kept herself cool as she continued to dance with Chagall and asked him, "So you gonna throw me to the wolves?"
And those violet eyes of her said the rest.
'You know you want to.'

Chagall noticed the tension in her face, and, well it didn't take an expert to see that.  He found Trey's voice rather grating as well, though perhaps for different reasons...  But his face just had a flicker of sympathy.  "No," Chagall said calmly.  "We let him come to us.  In fact don't even give him a passing glance."

At that, Starlight looked back at her dancing partner curiously.
"Oh? And what if he doesn't come alone?"

"If he's got something to prove, he'll come alone," he said.  He sounded more confident then he felt. And from the corner of his eye he could see Trey getting antsy at Starlight having not responded to his attempts at catcalling.

"Evidently he must've done something to make you very upset," Chagall observed, watching her expression.

"Yeah,"s he said, as if she had something sour on her tongue. "More like once or twice too many times."

"You allowed him to have a 'second time' to do so?" Chagall clicked his tongue a little.  "And is there any decent motivation to getting even?"

"Trey is a manipulative prick," she told him bluntly, eyes never once leaving his. "But then again, most paying men are."

"True enough to be sure.  Men expect to get what they pay for," he said.  "That being said, most men don't know when enough is enough."  And that was when he noticed Trey hollering for Starlight again.  He was clearly getting irritated, and Chagall could feel his eyes burning on him.  But even still he stayed focused on Starlight, not daring to give him the time of day.

Starlight tried her damnedest to keep her sneer at bay, focusing only on Chagall. Figures the handsome ones were the craziest. Though at least he was better looking than Trey. She supposed she'd rather deal with Chagall for the moment over Trey, but too bad for her- it seemed she'd have to deal with both as she heard large steps coming their way and Trey's large figure looming near. And even as her blood ran quicker, her eyes kept to Chagall, waiting for any signal from him. After all, this was his game she was forced to play.

Chagall knew Trey was looming closer and when he felt a burly hand on his shoulder, he turned around and turned his head up to the man that was clearly twice his size.  "I asked the little lady for a dance," Trey growled and grabbed Chagall up by the collar of his shirt.

"She didn't seem interested.  She hardly looked at you," Chagall said with wide innocent eyes. 

Starlight couldn't believe this! What kind of bullshit was he trying to pull from his ass this time? But the man didn't seem to care who was to blame as he gave Chagall a shove aside.
"Then you wouldn't mind if I interrupt you to get her attention then."
And he smirked as his large form stood between Starlight and Chagall. And all Starlight could do was frown.

Chagall was accustomed to the larger bulls trying to use their weight to get their way.  But what they often failed to see was that every body had weak spots.  But this time, Chagall kept his cool and stepped aside as Trey snatched onto Starlight and started to dance completely out of tune with the song, dragging her around like a ragdoll.

It just went from bad to worse. Starlight already didn't want to be here, but now Trey was nearly slobbering all over her, cooing into her ear and asking about 'her friend'. She had to fight off a sneer as she wiped some of his drool from her cheek.

"I don't know, sugar. But here I thought this dance was about you and me."

Chagall watched him dance with Starlight and he would've smiled if it not where it not for Starlight's increasing discomfort.  He considered vacating the dancefloor and watching from afar, apart of it was out of the hope was that Trey would drag her upstairs, as most brutes ended inevitably.  But he supposed he stayed on the sidelines long enough.

He stepped back in and pulled Starlight back to him.  "I think you've had your fill, man.  Go back to your goons.  They're waiting for more of your exaggerated sex stories," Chagall said with a sniff.

And that's when Trey had had enough, and turned to the smaller man with a growl.
"Oh yeah?" And swung a heavy punch at his stupid head!

Chagall saw that punch coming a mile away and snatched into his wrist, throwing the man over his head as if he were light as a feather.

And Starlight ducked, not because the man was being thrown over her head, but because when Trey crashed into a nearby table, the debris splattered everywhere.

Trey laid there wide-eyed and dazed, the breath knocked out of him, the move clearly not what he expected out of such a pipsqueak!  Oh he'd crush his fucking head to pulp!

"You goddamned dirty rat.  I'll bash your face in.  And you won't be grinning then," he huffed, laughing even as he climbed to his feet. 

Chagall stood there calmly, just as Trey's friends decided to join the brawl, but the smaller man put his hands up.  "No, no.  Call of your hounds, old chum, this is between you and me," he said.  The other men actually stopped in their tracks and doubled-taked to Trey.

The man sneered.  "Don't worry boys, I can take him. Now come and fight me like a man."

"Really?  Over a dance?  If you insist," Chagall replied, bored, and even yawning at the brute, and that only seemed to piss Trey off more!

Playing the role of the useless, fragile woman grated on Starlight more than she thought. Not that she wanted to get involved in any sort of scuffle that wasn't hers, but because she did not like Trey and believed he deserved the worst of the worst!

However, reputation... and the fact she more or less has no ownership over her own life, as being property of 'The Peach', she had to remain back, and grit her teeth so hard that it hurt, while keepin close to a wall and out of the way.

She turned to Chagall as he went back after Trey. Was he for real? Well, she supposed if this was his plan, so be it. But she wsn't about to break a nail!

Chagall made no move toward Trey and he would let the larger man's anger burn out until he was nothing left but an exhausted husk.  This was just business after all.  And he needed Trey alone.  While Chagall was certain this wasn't the way to do it, he was prepared to adapt when necessary.

Trey rushed him again, and Chagall promptly moved out of the way, his smaller body nimbler than he and he managed to roll toward the backdoor.  Like a dog after a bone, Trey followed, face red with unbridled fury and he barreled out the backdoor as Chagall led the way.

He slammed into the stone work. "You sonuvabitch!  Quit squirreling around!"  Trey fumed and swung toward his face.  Chagall ducked and when he rose up, he cracked his knuckles against Trey's face.  Blood splattered from his nose and he staggered backwards.

"You were saying?" he asked, peering at Trey expectantly.  This time Chagall did step forth, ready to duck beneath Trey's swings and his own fist cracked against his ribs, hard until he heard a crunch toward his lower back.  Trey growled, seemingly unfazed by it for the moment, and snatched Chagall up by the collar of his shirt, dragging him up and socking him, sending him tumbling to the ground.

At the least the crowd was content to let the fight remain outside.

Hanging back might not have been the brightest ideas, for Trey's friends moved to watch the fight, however, a few of the 'smarter' lackies new the end goal was to get the whore, and soon she felt a man's strong grip on her wrist.

"Just stay with us and watch the show, Peach," the man said, purring against her with his rancid breath.

"Oh, I'll stay and watch the show, sugar. But can you do me a favor and get yourself some mint?"

Really, his breath was foul enough she wanted to gag!

"C'mon, Trey!" one of his boys hollered and yanked Starlight outside to see the spectacle. Despite their cheering and bleats, Trey only looked like a determined pig as he ran after Chagall again.  However the man was determined to finish it quickly and snatched Trey by the neck as he passed him, and secured an elbow lock around him.

Trey sputtered and slammed Chagall against the wall behind him, to little avail.  And when his friends saw he was losing the fight, they wasted no time stepping in on Trey's behalf, smashing a crate against Chagall's back.

All of them went to help Trey- except Stink breath. ANd it seemed he was a bit too happy to stick around with Starlight. After all, his eagerness was making a tent in his pants. And Starlight tried to still her tongue, but to see the others rush Chagall...
Should we try to help now?

But why should she care? As far as she was concerned, both sides were her enemy!

Chagall made a grunt when the crate came colliding into his back, and before he could even hit the ground, someone snatched him up from behind, arm around the neck, to hold him steady so another could punch him hard in the stomach.  "Now would be a good time, Starlight!" Chagall grunted loudly, just before a fist sank into his gut, and the wind was knocked out of him.

What? Did he really just call out to her?
"I thought you had this!" she called over to him, and the man who held her did a double take.

"What side you on here, anyway?"

Starlight only sneered at the man with the foul breath.
"The one's who pay the bills."

"I never. Said. I. Had. It!" Each word was gasped out of him as more blows came to his gut.  He wheeled until he forced himself to take a deep breath and lifted his legs, kicking the goon in front and throwing the one behind him off balance.  He lost his grip on Chagall but the landing was less than stellar.  He tumbled to the ground and barely scrambled to his feet in time to avoid being stepped on by Trey's boot.

"C'mon, Starlight!" Chagall ducked and wove beneath a punch.

She tried her best to hide her smile, but to see this man suffer after all he'd put her through?
Then again, if she had to weigh her options, she supposed she'd rather see Trey suffer. But getting involved was a bit risky-
Others weren't suppose to know she could fight!

And with a sigh, she shrugged off her captor and took a step forward, hands on her hips.

"Come on, Trey. The boy's had enough. We both know you're man enough for he and I both."

"What?"

If anything that was enough to stop the fight and Chagall sat half on the ground, fist in the air, pausing mid-swing at that.  Trey too paused and stared at Starlight.  Trey looked back at Chagall and snarled, throwing one last punch to keep him on the ground.  "I don't share nothing with a nobody like this carrot," Trey grumbled and considered the fight won.

Chagall stayed on the ground, watching Trey walk over to Starlight and snatch her up by the arms, slobbering his mouth all  over her. "You're mine tonight, baby. I know how much you miss the Hammer." And dragged her back inside and up the stairs.  And his boys went to town beating the crap out of Chagall once he was gone.

Candy couldn't believe what she was seeing. Had Starlight just ditched the man in the alleyway? Granted, she only caught the part where Chagall was by himself in the alleyway, getting the shit beat out of him. Though that was not much of her concern, Starlight was, and she had no idea where her friend had gone.

Laying her belly flat upon the rooftop, she slipped the pole cue from her side and a few billiard balls and lined them up before her. She counted just enough balls for each man, and after eyeing things up, went about to tap each one over the edge, and each heavy ball hit their mark, except the last one hit Chagall's foot instead, as the man stepped out of the way in time. But the strikes were a good enough distraction and 'Card Trick' simply laughed as the men were all swearing up a storm.

"Hey boys, why don't you play with someone your own size?"
Which was an ironic thing to say- considering she was rather on the short side!

Sure he was getting the shit beat out of him, but it could've been much worse, and Chagall was accustomed to sharper pain than this. When the billiard ball got his foot, he yelped and watched as the men turned to look at the figure up on the roof. FUCKING-A! 

Chagall knew an opportunity when he saw one and pulled the thin piano wire from the hidden compartment on his belt, and rolled it neatly between each hand and jumped up at the man that turned, pulling the wire tight.  He strangled and choked hard, trying to reach Chagall behind him to no avail. And soon he fell limp to the ground.

Seemed like the dummy got the hint, but Candy couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit sorry for the man downed. That piano wire looked painful! But sympathy, if one could call it that, was short lived as Card Trick turned her attention to the men  who were divided over just who to attack first. So half went after Chagall, the other two, after the baggy jacket babe.

"You! Get down there from that roof so we can kick your ass!"

Card trick only laughed.

"Aren't you going to invite me to dinner first?"
And before the men knew it, a few card blades were sailing their way.

Chagall was ready this time and when the three goons went after him, he clotheslined one, and socked another in the new. When the third came, he ducked down and punched him hard in the nuts. The man howled, whimpering as he turned into the fetal position on the ground.

The men getting hit by Candy's cards were getting rather annoyed by it all, calling up at her and shaking their fists, but all Candy did was continue to toy with them, laughing as they continued to get pissed.

"Ah.. men are so dumb. Don't they know I could tease them forever?"

Which was just fine for Chagall as it gave him time to knock out the remaining men, cracking two over the head with bottles until they collapsed.  Chagall sighed, wiping his bloody lip and looking up at Candy.  "Trey's for Starlight," he huffed up at her, pulling the gloves out of his pocket, and slipping them on his hands after he wiped them clean on one of the fallen men.

"Trey has Starlight? Where?"

Chagall pointed upstairs.  "They went inside," he said and rushed up the wall, nimble enough to scale the bricks as if they were a ladder.  He climbed up to the window sill where he heard Trey's gruff voice.  At intense sounds of struggle, Chagall wasted no time and gingerly opened the window.

Trey had Starlight pinned to the bed and his back, at least, was to the window, and have Chagall a chance to slip inside. And from his view he could see a fat bruise forming on Starlight's cheek.  "So you like to beat up women huh?" Chagall growled as he slipped the wire around Trey's neck.

Candy couldn't believe the terrible luck, and made her way across the rooftops over towards the building Chagall was climbing through.

And when Chagall came in through the window, used his wire and would pull the man back, he'd find a number of cuts across the man's face and blood seeping from the wounds.
And through a choke, he tried to fight back and gurgled, "That bitch deserves worse!"

And you deserve to have your brain splattered on back alley pavement," Chagall growled, dragging Trey into the ground.. "But right now I need some answers.  Why don't we get situated.  Card trick! Get this man confortable, please."

He gave Candy control of the wire before turning to Starlight, kneeling beside her. "Are you all right?"

Candy gave a good tug on the wire, enjoying how it began to make Trey bleed.
"Shouldn't have given me control of this wire." And as Chagall inquired about Starlight, she peered over at her to.
"Damn, you can't show up at the Peach like that." She grit her teeth. "Looks sore.."

Starlight didn't even bother to look at Chagall, glancing over at Candy.
"What are you doing here?"

She gave a shrug and a smile.
"Improvising as the help, what does it look like?"

Starlight only shook her head and smiled.
"I'm just glad to see you. Though... what do we do about them?" And of course, she meant both Trey and Chagall. And she turned to Chagall to see just what he had to say. And just to be sure he didn't try to fuss over her like she was helpless, she added, "And it's fine. I've suffered worse."

Chagall nodded, satisfied, in her own assessment.  He then stood toward Trey and promptly kicked him in the nuts. Just for good measure.

"Don't worry, the both of you, I'll be out of your hair once I have what I need. However, I'd rather avoid collateral damage if necessary."  He specifically looked over Starlight's wounds, but said nothing more of it.

It was Cardtrick's turn to roll her eyes.
"Collateral damage. Thanks for thinking of us. You're too kind."
Brushing past him, she shoved the string into his hand and moved to Starlight.

"Come.. let's get you to the Peach. If anything, they've got more than enough herbs and medicine to help tone down the swelling, at least a little bit. ANd hey, if we're quick enough, we can get some Peach Candy drinks."

Starlight smiled and nodded to Candy.
"I'd like that. A lot."
She stood and turned to Chagall, then looked down to Trey.
"So what about him? You found Trey. Now you got him. Is our little partnership through yet?"

Chagall turned to Starlight. Here they got a little scuffed up and were already going to call it quits? He drowned then looked down to Trey and then considered his own condition.  His face was worse than Starlight's and Candy's and Trey's combined. "No," he said. "We are not finished. You help me get what I came here for, then we're finished. And then you'll be paid."

He looked concerned about Starlight's condition, but said nothing knowing the Peach cared little for it.  "There is still much to be done."

Candy folded her arms across her chest.
"And if we refuse? Besides, what you propose is foolish. Can't you see you look even worse than any of us here?"
Maybe he was crazy. Yeah, probably crazy! It was the only thing she could deduce!

"You became involved the moment you met Redan, but you couldn't have known that. However, I don't leave things half finished. Do you?"

Starlight had her hands on her hips, and Candy moved her hands to fold across her chest.

"Only if the pay is half."

Chagall narrowed his eyes at the pair and internally he grit his teeth.  Oh they wanted to bargain? Now of all times? "Twenty percent. That is more than fair."

"Bargain?" Starlight questioned. "Who said we want your money?"

"All we meant was that men get half the job if the pay is half. Peach rule," Candy said, in rude jest.

"Right," Chagall replied with a sniff.  "I believe we can discuss this at a later time.  Your compensation will be thorough.  That is you remain here and help me finish what I came here to finish.  You have my word."

Starlight sighed.
"It's not like we have any more clients."

"Yeah, mine was a bit too eager to finish the race, or else I'd still be back at the Peach," Candy added. "But what exactly it is we're doin'?"

"We're?" Starlight raised a brow at Candy. "We're not doing anything. You're going back to the Peach."

"What? Starlight!" Candy began to protest.

"I don't need you getting a black eye, too. How would we explain it to our boss, huh? They can't have their goods all bruised up."

"Bruised up? You know I'm careful! And besides, who ever said we'd encounter another fight?"

Starlight sighed at that one. Candy could be so stubborn! But then again, so could she.

Chagall could understand their position, they had more to their lives than just fucking for a living, and they couldn't really afford to go back more beat up than usual.  He was another story.  He couldn't promise they wouldn't get hurt, but it would make a difference to be a little more careful.

"Here," he said and pulled two little vials from his belt. Inside was a blue translucent liquid that had a peculiar taste to it.  "Take these before you head back. When we're finished, take that before you sleep and you'll be right as rain in the morning."

Starlight stared at the vials skeptically.
"What is that? Poison?"

"Medicine," he said, plainly. Trey, thankfully, was still wallowing in pain.

Starlight just took the vials and pocketed them.
"What about him?" she said, jerking a thumb in Trey's direction.

"The questioning begins," he said and looked down to Trey and plucked his head up by his nasty oily hair.

"Have you ever met a man named Redan Gordrin?" He asked plainly. Maybe it wasn't the best way to start things off, but they had already got off on the wrong foot.

Trey sneered, exposing some bloody teeth.
"Redan? What about that fucker?" the man nearly spat.

"What did he talk to you about?" he asked, examining those bloody teeth and wondering for a moment what it would be like to pull them out.  "I'd talk fast if I were you.  My associates here don't seem to like you too much."

"Talk?" The man sneered through his bloodied teeth. "Business."

"And just what sort for business are you in, Trey?" Chagall crossed his arms over his chest. Trey just sneered at him and spat at his feet.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Trey sniffed at him and made kissy faces at Starlight.

Starlight glared.

"You keep that up, Trey, and I'll castrate you personally."

"All whores are fucking the same. Only good for one thing," Trey spat her in turn, payment for what she did to his face.

And that's when Starlight kicked him in the teeth.

Trey reeled backwards, and he spat out blood.  "You fucking bitch!" He suddenly rose, or try to at any rate and Chagall's foot collided with his chest, slamming him into the wall.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" He kicked his head again and left Trey coughing up more blood.  "What sort of business did you have with Gordrin? Speak quickly, or fear I lose my patience, you stupid piece of shit."

And Trey's reply was to spit a broken tooth in Chagall's face.

[Nice deflection]

Chagall scowled at Trey and shoved his boot into the base of his throat in a hard kick.

And down he went, clutching at his throat and unable to breath.
Starlight sighed, but it was Candy that spoke up.

"This is getting us no where. What are you trying to find out from an ass like him anyway?"

"Did you see Redan Gordrin with a package?  An envelope in his possession that he may have been waving around!?  If so, what did he do with it?  Did he show it to anyone?  Did you take it?  If someone else did, who and where are they?"

"Package? You mean like the one you are lacking between your legs?" the man bit back, sorely.

"Like the one I'm about to cut off," Chagall said, kneeling down to peer at him eye level.  He tucked a hand beneath his chin, putting his head up so he could get a better look at him.  He studied his expression, that sneer and looked long enough in his eyes to decide one thing.  "You don't know a damn thing. Not a single deep thought in that empty head of yours. How sad...  Your parents should have drowned you when you were a baby, if only they'd known what a waste of life you would be."

The man snarled, anger flaring in his eyes and nostril before he attempted to smash his face into Chagall's.

Chagall pulled his head back and just spit on him.  He stood, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.  "What a waste of time," he said with a sigh and looked up at Candy.  "Did you want to have a bit of fun?  He's all yours."

Candy snorted.
"Please! The only thing I want from him is to see him rot in jail."

"Then let him rot here.  He's a waste of life," Chagall said and took the wire he'd used to subdue the brute.  He wasn't worth anymore time and returned to the stairs.  He looked out to Starlight.  "We still have another establishment to survey.  Your assistance would be most appreciated.

Starlight looked at Chagall, then down to the man at their feet.
"We can't let him rot here.." she went on with a frown. "He's... seen too much, knows too much."
ANd it was a nice distraction from answering his question.

"So what do you suggest?" Chagall glanced at the man on the floor.

Starlight grew quiet for a moment before replying, "Simple. We drop his ass off near the Gate of Guards. They can deal with him. And they're more than familiar with a lot of his crimes." She nodded and looked to Chagall. "Justice will be served."

And find plenty of reasons to let him go, Chagall thought but said nothing of it.  He gestured to Starlight, almost a bow of sorts and moved toward the brute and kicked him hard enough in the head to knock him out.  And then threw his heavy body over his shoulders. 

Stunned, Starlight took a step back to observe him. She couldn't tell if he was going to oblige what she said...
Or take care of the damned idiot his own way.

"Ladies first," he said.

Starlight set her jaw and gave a firm nod. Leading the way, with Candy at her heels, she made sure the coast was clear before moving down one alley to another. And as they got near the guard post, she hesitated.

"Now we have to figure out a good time to dump him off out front without being seen."

"We might get lucky and it could be close to a shift change," Candy stated, trying to remain optimistic on this endeavor.

When Chagall would appear behind them, he'd be without the body and he nudged Starlight in the shoulder.  "Deed's done.  Let's get out of here."

Both Starlight and Candy turned around, shocked.
Following after him, she hissed, "What did you do?"

"I took care of it.  Now don't dawdle," Chagall whispered back and pointed to a guard patrol heading their way.

"Don't dawdle he says," muttered Candy. "Where are we not to dawdle to anyway?"

Chagall was swift to turn and rush down the way they came, as the patrol spotted one of them and immediately gave chase.  They were after Candy, in her odd men's clothing.  "Stop!"

Starlight swore as she looked over her shoulder and noticed the men had spot them- or at least spotted Candy. But before she could do anything about it, Candy hissed, "I'll throw 'em off our tracks. Just keep runnin'!"

Chagall wouldn't wait for Starlight, but it seemed she didn't have too.  With Candy to draw them off, he turned a bend and found a ladder poised up beside the balcony of a small squat building.  He motioned for Starlight to follow him, and did so to reach the top, pulling himself up in time to see just over the corner of a roof, Candy get knabbed by the pursuing patrol.

Starlight's heart dropped to her feet. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. And the guards were meant to be the good guys! But 'Card Trick's identity couldn't be revealed! If one Lady of the Night were caught by the guards and exposed as a Peach....
More than likely it wouldn't take long before they'd sniff out the rest of them.

Starlight swore.
"We have to stop them. They can't take her in or figure out who she is."

And just who was the 'we' in this endeavor?  Chagall did pause, and watched the guards drag away the 'man' they'd been chasing, even adding a few choice punches to the guts in there for good measure.  As far as he was concerned, Candy had given herself up as a decoy so that they might escape and gain some ground on the task that remained at hand.

It was none of his affair.  He inwardly sighed.

But it was.  Inevitably the guards would interrogate this woman until she gave away all her accomplices.  The Peach had it's own notoriety and reputation, and so did every member therein.  Eventually all of that could potentially lead back to him, and that was not a risk he could afford to take. 

Already this night was dragging on, and he gave an exasperated, exaggerated breath through his nostrils before he nodded to Starlight and found a way across the rooftops to follow the guards dragging Candy along with them.

Starlight followed behind, silent as the shadows. As she watched the goings on, she asked, "Got a plan? Cause I don't plan on hurting the guards when they're on our side and we're not going to leave her."

"And how will them revealing your friend be of any help to you?  They will reveal her identity, and yours.  They will not have sympathy for your plight or your activities.  Guards do not particularly enjoy vigilantes doing their jobs for them."  He sniffed and gestured to the back.  "We get arrested too.  Or I do.  And you distract them somehow.  Sing them a song or something.  I'll get your friend."

"What?" she grabbed his arm, suddenly. "Uh, uh, we do this together, and we leave the guards lives outta this." She looked the man over. "Don't you know how to handle problems in any other way but with violence?"

Chagall tilted his head.  "I said nothing about violence.  And even if there were, there's no need to kill.  A simple blow to the head would be enough to disable them without rendering them lifeless.  I get things done.  Not always with violence.  Though admittedly it is the easiest." 

He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the area a little bit.  "What do you propose?" he asked gently, looking her over.  "A freebie?  We can't just waltz in there and ask them to kindly release your friend.  We need a distraction and someone else to go in and free her.  And quickly, time is of the essence."

Starlight grit her teeth. He had a point.
"Fine, if we can be discrete about it. And quick... We can knock 'em unconscious."

"Good," Chagall said and nodded.  "Now what are you going to do?"

"Me?" she sized him up. "Honey, this is your area of expertise."

Chagall gestured to the ground below.  "Ladies first."

"Oh, but I insist. Gentlemen first."

"As the lady wishes," he hissed and took her hand and pulled her down with him.

She couldn't believe they were doing this. This plan, she had a feeling, was totally going to back fire in their faces. But Candy's neck was on the line, and so were all of the Ladies of the Night. She wasn't about to simply let their whole world go up in smoke, so as she and Chagall got closer, she suddenly threw him roughly against the wall and began to claw at his clothing, kissing him sharp.

"GODS! YOU'RE SO ROUGH, IT'S THRILLING!" she shouted, hoping to attract the attention of the guards. If there was one thing she knew that got men running, it was a fire.. and sex.

From the exclamation, it wasn't difficult to see where she was getting at.  And Chagall's hands were full of Starlight's ass, and he was grinding hard against her through the confines of his trousers, pressing her hard against the alley wall.

The guard's bootsteps were fast approaching.

It seemed only one guard had broken away to see what all of the fuss was about in the alleyway, nd when he saw the pair, he gave a sharp whistle.

"HEY! YOu two, knock it off in the streets. Take it to the Peach if you want to get hot n' heavy, kay?"

But it seemed the two ignored him, as Starlight's kisses deepened as she growled out words that only Chagall could hear.
"Wait to strike when he gets closer.."
And a hand moved to slide down his pants.

Chagall was sure to groan loudly at the feel of her hand around his member, which was hardened of its own volition in response to a situation like this.  Her hands were in his pants.  It was bound to happen.

And when the guard griped and snatched Starlight by the shoulder, Chagall dropped her in time and lunged at the guard, striking him hard on the head with a hammer fist.

And his fist was soon followed up by a high kick from Starlight. They couldnt' waste any time, and it only took those two quick, but heavy blows to knock the guard unconscious. She turned to Chagall and nodded.
"I'm not sure if we can wait for the other, but the odds seem more in our favor. Come on, let's see if we can just take 'em head on. If not, we can just lure the others like the last fool," she told him with a smirk. Cause well, she had felt what was in his pants, and knew just how much he probably enjoyed that.

"Perhaps.  What if you disguise yourself, and bring me in," he said, pointing to the fallen gaurd.  "They don't look too big.  And if you showed your face they'd probably recognize you."  And not to mention, gesturing to the rather conspicuous hard-on in his pants.  "For lewd behavior."

Starlight raised a brow at him, trying to hide her mirth.
"Oh? Turn you in? Won't you be afraid I'd just keep you there if they buy it?"

"I entertained the thought.  But if I was at all convinced that they could hold me, I wouldn't even have suggested it," he murmured with a smirk, actually amused.  "Besides, you keep me there and you'll not be paid."

He pointed to the guard's clothing.  "Unless you have a better idea."

"Tch, sugar, I'm not doing this for money." If that was the case, she'd be doing something else entirely.
"So..y ou gonna help a girl undress or what? We haven't got much time."

It was only then that Chagall was rather perturbed, but he didn't show it.  Why couldn't she always wear something practical.  Practical could be sexy.  Then she could do both jobs without having to worry about switching outfits inbetween.  It was called thinking outside the box, Starlight.

Chagall's fingers worked deftly to undo the ties of her dress and held hands at her hips to help her shimmy out of it.

Once the attire was gone, she paused to trace her eyes appreciatively over his form.
"Too bad you're one of the bad guys. We could have made a wonderful team together." she told him, tracing a few fingers down his jaw.

"Who's to say I'm either one of them?  You assume quickly, as do I, I suppose."  He nodded to her respectfully and pulled the clothes and armor from the fallen guard, handing them to her.

"Let's just say.. I know from experience. It's not hard to read into most men."
And she accepted the armor and began to slip into it, and it was surprisingly, a good fit.
"Here, help me with the straps. We don't got much time, remember? And be sure you keep that thing in your pants good and hard," she told him in a teasing manner.

He only smirked wryly.  He could understand that.  Experience was a jealous molding machine, and would not easily let go of what it held.  Chagall strapped her into the armor firmly before nodding to her.  "It's hard enough," he sighed a little and grasped it firmly just to make sure.

"Its good.  Let's go.  I'll even pretend to be drunk for you."  Which wasn't that hard to do.

Nodding, Starlight lead the way. She knew the path to the prison well. She had dumped off a few criminals in the past there many times before,a nd this time was only different in that she had to remember she was pretending to be a guard.

When she approached, the guard at the front gawked.

"What is this?"

"A menace. Caught 'em with his pants down," Starlight went on, gruffly. She pulled Chagall forward roughly. "I figure a night in the cell ought to cool this one off."

Chagall sauntered along as if drunk, half-dragging his feet as Starlight led him by the arm.  Her grip was stern and he figured it was half in the act, and half out of sheer frustration.  "I didn't do nothing!" he griped, and pulled his arm from her grasp.

"WHOA!"  The other guard was quick to manhandle Chagall and pin his arms behind his back.  "Stupid fuckers.  Can't keep their cock in their pants!?  What the hell we got the Peach in this city for anyway?!"  The guard shook his head before leading Chagall down the hall, shoving him none too gently either.

Starlight was seething, but kept her cool as she followed after the guard.
"I don't know," she went on gruffly. "Maybe this town needs more brothels."

And the other man laughed and gave Chagall a shake.
"You hear that? Bastards like you can't be satisfied with one whore house, maybe we can propose we get your type off the street with an idea like that!"

 "You know what you can suck?"  Chagall grabbed the hard on in his trousers and sneered at the guard just as the cell door was being slammed in his face.

"Aw shut up. Pervert," the man scoffed and rattled gauntleted knuckles against the bars.

The second Chagall was behind bars, Starlight saw a familiar face among the ragged.
She held her breath. She couldn't give away Candy being.. well, Candy, just like she couldn't give up she wasn't a guard!  Leaving Chagall to his cell, she used this moment with the other guard distracted to make eye contact with Candy, and somehow, strangely, the pair were able to communicate with just eye movements.

The job seemed simple enough. She'd have to get the keys from the guard house and free them both. But when would the opportunity lend itself?

"Well, Willock," the man went on, patting Starlight on the shoulder when he approached the 'guard' again. "Looks like our shift is ending soon. Nameth and Jehn oughtta be here." He worked on hiking up his pants before spitting tobacco to the side. It was only then she realized just how filthy these floors truly were. But a nudge from the other man's elbow drew her attention back to him.

"Hey, maybe we can go to the Peach before we head home, eh? See why they ain't payin' for their keep? And here I thought i Heard many men howling over that dame Starlight." The man sneered. "What that is ain't right. There ain't no god damn reason a whore should cost more than a two pence." He spat more tobacco to the side. "But maybe that's just me. Apparently this has been going on for a good few years now."

STarlight forced a smile and coughed out a manly, "Yeah."

Shit. If the man's shift was ending soon- it offered her a very limited window to get Candy and Chagall out of there.

Goddammit, Star.  Just clobber the man already and let's be on with it!  Chagall thought, listening to the echoing voice of the man down the hall.  He reached into his boots, feeling around and finding the pick set and with it, went to work.  He listened, working the lock as carefully as he could with his hands through the bars.

And as he did so, he could hear the opening of the door around the corridor.  He focused back on the lock and held his breath until he heard a click and the latch opened.

Chagall moved like a shadow, form light as he quickly made his way to Candy's cell door.  "Hey," he hissed.  "Hey. Wake up."

"Hey, nothin'! I wasn't sleeping," Candy hissed. "And put that thing away." she pointed to his pants. "We can take care of that later." for she was certain Starlight was to blame for his little 'problem'.

Chagall sighed.  "A side effect currently not the focus of our current predicament," he said and when he heard that satisfying click, he opened the door and signaled her to come through.

Candy hastily stepped out.
"So where to, Prince charming? Or ain't this rescue mission your sorta plan?"

"Down the hall, this way.  Quickly.  The other guards are coming to change shifts!" he hissed and bolted down the hallway.

"What? Wait! But what about Starlight?" she asked, catching up to him.

And just as she said that, Starlight appeared right around the corner in her guard uniform.  "Starlight," Chagall hissed.  "Let's get the hell out of here."

Candy was taken back, but when she realized it was Starlight, she couldn't help but grin. And while the group made haste out into the city, she found herself asking, "Got yourself a new costume?"

It was only then Starlight turned to Candy and smirked.
"Of course," she told her with a wink. "Just think about how many new clients it'll draw in."

Chagall rolled his eyes but didn't make it noticeable.  "This way," he hissed and gestured them down an opposing alley.  Once he felt they were far enough away to breathe easy, he panted and looked between the pair of then.

"You're welcome by the way," he said.

Both women cut him a look, but before Candy could give him a sassy retort, Starlight stepped forward and placed a hand to his shoulder, then gave him a gentle kiss to the cheek.
"Thanks."

Stepping back, she planted her hands to her hips.
"I guess we part ways here?"

After all, now that Candy was rescued, there was no need to continue to drag this criminal around with them.

"I guess," Chagall said with mild resolution.  There was still the matter of paying these ladies, for what little help they actually provided.  But he had enough to go on, he thought to see about following up on the rest of Redan's footsteps.  Ketra was not so big and boastful as Arca, but she was a beast all her own.

"You go on back to your brothel," he said, gesturing for them to leave.  "Unfortunately for me, the night still contains much work to be done."

Candy placed her hands to her hips and looked the man over.

"You talk as if you're already one of us girls,"s he teased. "But you have fun now." She gave a patronizing pat to his shoulder and moved to usher Starlight away. "Come on. We too have jobs to maintain," she reminded.

He saluted them and vanished down the alleyway.  They were only so helpful, especially with the pair together.  Obviously they had their own agendas to care for, and he had his.

Things went on as usual at the Randy Peach. Starlight continued to sing, and every week she was sold out to the highest bidder. Though since she had ran into Chagall that fateful night, she couldn't help but think of him- for no other patron since then could top the amount he had used to buy her.

She knew she shouldn't dwell on it, especially as a customer was pounding into her for all he was worth, but she had to wonder what sort of job did he have that required him to use such money to get information... and from a whore. Perhaps she shouldn't dwell on it. After all, she was doing her work will he was doing his-

But one thing was for certain, as she was able to get her current patron to cum all over her, she told herself she was GLAD he was gone. Crime, amongst other things, seemed to quiet down after he had left- and that also left her wondering... Maybe he was to blame for the sudden spike in criminal activity the month past?

After her patron left, she cleaned up and remained in her towel, a second one wrapped tightly around her dark hair as she went through her book. Stewart LeSette was the man who had her this evening. He was a first timer- just as Chagall had been. He traveled far to bed her, all the way from the sea. As a sailor, he had a lot of energy to expend, so she was surprised when he didn't stay the whole night-

Then again, he said he had to get back to his family-...
Right.

Leafing throught he pages, she stopped at the night where Chagall's money had been noted-
She thought back to their little fling int he street, before closing the book hastily with a sigh. Removing her towel from her hair, she began to run a brush through it, and internally berated herself for even thinking about that man.

Then again, not every patron came in made a mark on her life like he did. And she still was't sure if he was a friend.. or enemy.

[Yes.  Chagall is responsible for all the crime.  He is the crime cat.  All the crime is his.]

Cleaning up the mess left by Redan Gordrin unfortunate boasting had been quite troublesome.  Chagall hated having to screen messengers more closely, but if they didn't learn to keep their foolish mouths shut, stuff like this wouldn't happen in the first place.  He'd tracked the package the bastard was supposed to deliver, leaving a trail of bodies along the way, the ones that knew too much anyway.

But Chagall had always been a clean and efficient killer.  He was quick about it, and never did more damage than necessary.  When the loose ends were tied, he delivered the package to it's intended destination, wiping his hands clean of those that inadvertently became involved. 

Whether he liked it or not, this was his job.  And he would carry it out with absolute precision.  There was no room for error, not in night business.  People that messed up had a habit of vanishing without a trace.

It was a thankless position, true.  But it seemed there was no one else willing to fill it.

That reminded him.  There were two more loose ends to tie up back in Ketra.  Which was why he was hanging out on the roof of the Randy Peach once again, quietly smoking away as he waited for the sounds of passion to quiet from within the room nearest him.  Starlight's room.  When it seemed the sounds dissipated and she was alone, he plopped down and kept the smoke and soft glow of the light just out of sight.

He peered through the darkened glass, and he waited until he was certain she was alone before he scooted closer to the glass and gently rapped his knuckles against it. 

Pausing, she turned towards the noise and found herself staring.
"It can't be..." She moved towards the window, glaring. She gave Chagall a mean smile before slamming the curtains together so she couldn't see the man at all.

He just laughed at the closing of the curtains.  Fine, if she wanted to play hard ball, he was game.  He took out a small toolkit and took two probes, fitting them into the space between the panes, and after some fiddling, he flicked the latch up.  He put away his tools before opening the window and slipping through the curtains.

"That isn't how you treat a guest," he said, puffing on his smoke holding it gingerly in hand.

Starlight hadnt bothered to look his way. She had returned to brushing her hair.
"Funny... Guests don't use a lock pick on the window."

"It's no matter darling," Chagall said with a sigh.  He dashed out his smoke in a case of ashes and reached behind him.  "I have something for you."

"You're not even a grand patron yet you're bringing me gifts?" though teasing , her stance spoke other wise. Arms folded across her chest. "You shouldn't have come back here."

"Grand patrons?  At least now I'll have something to aspire to," he said with a smile.  But it was brief when he produced a ratherlarge and heavy coinpurse.  "For you.  Payment as promised."

He moved to stand beside her and gently plopped the coinpurse onto the side of the dresser. 

She looked to the money then back to him.
"So you've brought payment, most men around here do. You want a gold star of something, hun?"

"For your help, and what trouble it solved," Chagall clarified.  "I promised payment.  And that's it.  Why are you angry?"

"Angry?" Now she sounded angry. She looked over at him, brows knitting. "I'm more surprised than that- perhaps a bit irritated. Though perhaps I thought when we parted ways that was our official forever goodbye."

And yet the anger in her tone caused him to assume otherwise.  "It sounds as if you...missed me," he commented, knitting his brows together.

SHe abruptly turned to him.
"You have a funny way of reading people."S he yanked the sack of money off the table and shoved it into her night stand drawer, then promptly turned away and continued brushing her hair.
"So you've brought the money you owe me. I guess you can see yourself out?" And she barely cast a glance to him through her reflection in the vanity.

"Almost," he said and winked at her.  "You know if you keep brushing your hair like that you're going to rip it out.  Downward strokes, soft and steady."

At that, she turned and pushed the brush roughly into his abdomen and glared.
"Look, sugar, I don't tell you how to work and you sure as hell won't tell me how I do mine. Now, you're lingering for a reason. Spit it out, and while you're at it, wipe off that shit eating grin, too." She jabbed him deeper with the brush. "I don't like it." And hse most certainly didn't like him, either!

That made his grin only spread further.  Or it certainly smarted a bit.  "I want to know what's eating you.  Clearly something's bugging you.  And it looked like it was there before I arrived."

"You're not a confident, close friend, or even another whore," she went on, still prodding him with the brush. Surely she'd at least bruise him for her efforts. "So leave your pity to the beggars on your way out."
And she retracted the brush and returned to her hair. Damn, she just had to be born with ALOT of friggin' hair.

The jabs from her brush were getting annoying and he was thankful she stopped before he was going to take her arm off.  Chagall suddenly grabbed her wrist in a strong grip.  "Whore or not, sometimes you just talk to much," he hissed before he stole a burning kiss.

If the grab surprised her, the kiss did so even more. And though angered, she found herself dropping the brush, which surprised her even more as she released a growled moan of frustration when she broke the kiss. THen proceeded to slap his cheek- and hard.

Chagall's face hardly moved, even in the force of her slap, before he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her again.  Harder and filled with frustration of his own.  She was as infuriating as they came.  But at least this seemed to shut her up.

Though kissing her when angered lit a fire she didn't want to admit, she just let herself be kissed that time before pulling away and keeping her glare.
"If you're here for the whore, you have to pay more than what's in that pouch."
Business was business after all. Even if his.. presence wasn't entirely wanted, she had to make money, too.

Chagall smirked a little, although eyes glittered darkly in the dimness of the room.  It's not that he wasn't willing to pay for it, it was just that he wasn't sure now was an appropriate time.  He leaned forward and caressed her cheek.  "No," he murmured.  "Keep your clothes on.  That kiss was enough."  His thumb rolled over her chin before he stepped away.  "I'll be going."

"Tch." She threw up her chin. "I guess once you're gone I'll have to re-wash my lips."

"Must you insult me before I go?  What's your deal with me honestly?" Chagall whirled back on her, fuming now.

"Sugar, you act as if we've got somethin' here." She dared to step nearer to him, eyes narrowing. "I'm just making sure you realize... we don't."

"Yes, of that I am plainly aware.  We were business associates, temporary ones at that.  And yet for some reason, you hold a great deal of irritation toward me.  Normally I'd walk away.  But now I intend to bug you about it.  What's your problem with me?" He hissed back, stepping right back in front of her until they were chest to chest.

"I don't think I need to tell you what you put me and my friend through. But don't let little old me keep you from going back to your masters. I'm sure there's plenty of gold waiting for you elsewhere."
And she turned to return to her vanity, a hand reaching for her wash cloth to clean her lips.

He could have struck her for that.  But stilled his hand.  However at the mention of her friend, he looked back at his belt and unhooked the second pouch.  He put that one on the desk too.  "For Candy. Adieu now, madame."  And he moved back to the window.

"Tch, and good riddance!" She spat the words after him, daring to take a step his way as if threatening to strike him as he moved to leave. But she wouldn't. She didn't want to give him any more reason to stay.

Chagall lingered in the window, he regarded her behind.  "At least you've been staying sculpted.  Nice work."

And that's when she threw the brush at the back of his head.
"It's what whores do!"

Chagall was on her then like a jacket on a warm night, pinning her to the floor and kissing her hard.  "Didn't I tell you, that you talk too much?" he hissed before kissing her furiously.

His rough kisses in reply were dizzying, if anything, and had her breathless as somehow,t he pair of them were on the ground. She growled and fought to pull her lips away.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, cheeks red with heat- and so were her breasts, which were about nearly bursting from her towel that barely kept her modest. Damn him for being so handsome.. and dangerous. Though she still viewed him as a villain, she also couldn't deny the first time she met him was rather fun. Still....

She drew finger tipped trails up his arm.

"If you want to keep this up you'd better produce a third coin bag," she growled, and was quick to kiss him back. Might as well try to get money out of him now that he was here. Plus he had her all hot and bothered- in a agood and bad way.

"You want a third coin bag?  It's right here," he panted, taking her hand and sliding it down his body to his crotch.  He wrapped her hand around it, as he crawled over her, claiming her lips once again.  It's not that he didn't have the money to pay her, but they would get to that later.

Crude or not, she hated admitting it turned her on. Mixing business with pleasure was never good- especially with... such a man with a reputation. Still, she couldn't help the moan that escaped from her lips as her hand hungrily felt up his package.
"I was expecting something bigger," she teased through a growl, kissing him back. "But if you're willing to pay.." And she shifted just so that the bottom half of her towel slipped away, and her one leg hooked around his hips.
"Let's make this quick," she growled, hands holding his face tightly as she kissed him. "I have a client early in the morning and he likes me..." Her lips curled into a incredulously smile. "Perky."

"I'll pay for it," he hissed.  He inevitably did. He started kissing down along her neck and her breasts.  Chagall grinned, just enough as he felt his manhood grow and harden underneath her touch.  She said she wanted bigger.

He took his teeth to the cloth of her towel and slipped it from her body.  His hands pulled away his shirt before he went back down and took teeth to her collarbone and neck.  He left a suckling kiss there his hands roving up her well formed body, gripping her left breast and massaging it gently in hand.

Gods help her if she didn't need this. Her pants and expression would give away to that as she mumbled softly, "You'll also owe me a bath."

"I'll clean you twice over.  Your last client was clearly a sailor," he breathed back.  He pulled his trousers down until they pooled around his ankles.   He kicked them off and when he moved back over her, his hands hiked her legs up around his hips.  He pressed hands down on either side of her head, and leaned down to kiss her hotly.

"Oh?" she asked between kisses, even adding a little nibble to his lips. She was growing hot and needy between her legs. "What makes you say that?" And she moved her hands to dig fingernails down his back. She didn't hesitate to be rough with him.

"You smell like sea, sand, and a lot of sex," he murmured, growling beneath her bites.  He smiled nevertheless, his tip prodding hotly against her entrance.  He moaned at that feel of her heat.  And the sensation pushed him on.  He pressed deeper, sliding with ease into her sex.

At his entry, her lips fell open, trembling before she clamped around him and all limbs clung tight.
"Gods..." Her hips moved, finger nails clawing down his back, scraping skin. She arched up, panting.
And though she was falling prey to the heat of hte moment- she tried to remind herself..
It was for the money. It's for the money.

Feeling her limbs clamping around him, pushed him deeper inside her.  He moaned softly, he was gentle, moving just enough as he started to fuck, hips working slow and deep.  Chagall, kept his hands on either side of him, rolling his hips against hers, that she would roll up with him in each undulation.

Her hips was like a magnet to his, when he's move up, she'd follow- and back down, she'd obey. Funny how after fucking for hours with a sailor earlier she was still hot enough, and willing enough, to be able to fully enjoy this with... such a man.

Perhaps she was limited in what she could take, and while she was here, she might as well enjoy it, and soon lips and teeth were dragging down his throat as she shivered. Gods.. did he have to move so slow? His pace allowed her to feel so much of him, so much the furious quick thrusts of a fuck could never give.

Chagall moaned softly, and while he was above her he soon felt it wasn't enough.  He rolled over so that Starlight was atop of him.  Gravity pulled her deeper upon his member and he thrusted upward slowly, taking his mouth to her throat and chest, and soon devoured her breast between his lips.

She arched into him, straddling now as hands were secured around him, holding him close as finger nails dragged through his hair. Her eyes rolled back as he pushed up inside of her, making the pool of pleasure grow.

She panted, a hand moving to smooth over his shoulder, the other keeping his face to her breasts as she moved slowly with him, body shaking as she tensed every muscle- focusing primarily, on the tightness of her sex.

To fuck so deep, so slow, Chagall's eyes rolled deeply into the back of his head, as his mouth continued to lap and suck along the fevered flesh of her breasts.  Her breath, the sound of it, the beating of her heart that he felt through her skin, made him roll his hips deeper, more quickly beneath her.  He pulled away to catch his breath, panting heavily.

"Gods...Starlight," he murmured.  His hands gripped her sides, encouraging her to ride him to her hearts content.

And ride him she did, but still at that painfully slow pace that was torturous to them both. Her hips would move, and hitch upward real slow, before moving down fast, like a striking snake; and then all over again she'd go.

Sweat soon glistened across her body, damp hair suctioning to skin as her hands moved down his back, feeling his warm skin, his taunt muscles and the feel of his hair fluttering between strokes as she kept him close, and her breathing went deep.

He left soft, wet kisses up her neck, back to her mouth.  With each taut squeeze of her sex on him, he panted softly, and he pressed his forehead against hers, repositioning his legs to allow her to fit as closely to him as possible. He kissed her deeply, passionately, looking into her eyes when he pulled away. 

His eyes were mesmerizing- perhaps out of fear, out of lust. She whimpered, still moving, still looking into his eyes as she felt herself near her peak.

His touch was gentle but only for her.  Where she started to peak, he began to pump faster beneath her, eager to feel her come.  He whimpered beneath her, letting his lips linger over hers as he kissed her partly. Trying to catch his breath next, but feeling his body tremble in building tension.

She couldn't help it- inspite of herself, she screamed. To the Gods, to the stars, to anything that would listen as she exploded from within. She saw white, and felt it too, as she rode him wildly into her own exhaustion and collapsed into a heap upon his form.

And there she lay and shivered.
"Gods.."
Despite having so much sex...
Not all men could satisfy such a woman as she.

Chagall leaned back against his arms, holding her and he up in the aftermath of their sex.  He hadn't come for that, but he couldn't say he wasn't glad that it happened.  He breathed heavily, sweat beading down his forehead.  He said nothing and as she lay against him, he kissed her brow.  Their sexes remained interlocked, hearts beating together.

Panting, she said nothing for a time. Perhaps it was best not to speak first- and pretend this was just another night, another dream, another bag of money to keep the Randy Peach running.

Chagall kissed her then, sweetly, even for a man such as he.  And when he did move he stood up and carried her to her bed.  He laid her across it before tucking her blanket over her and cleaning up a little.  He sniffed, dressing slowly and moving toward the window again.  He left quietly with no fuss, closing the panes behind him.

She said nothing, laying there quietly as she closed her eyes. She didn't have to watch him to leave, but she could hear it.
"Figures he wouldn't pay," she muttered, and tried to get to sleep.

[Jude didn't get paid either Starlight. You aren't the only one.]

No he didn't pay.  But not because he refused.  He had no money presently on him, other than what he'd given her.  But he'd done what he came there to do, and now he could return to Serendipity.  Or that was the plan anyway.  Little did he know he was being watched as he emerged from the window of the Peach.

She lay in bed fitfully. It was hard to get comfortable, what with Chagall on her brain. And not to mention, still moistening her between her legs. She had to wonder if the last time he had a fuck was with her that time he bought her. Sure seemed like it.

Frustrated, she got up to get herself a glass of water, to clean more between her legs, and returned to her vanity to try to reduce some stress by brushing her hair.

Eyes watched her from the darkness, just observing her for the time being.

Once feeling a lot more clean, Starlight set her brush aside and returned to her bed. Slipping beneath the covers and closing her eyes. Tomorrow would be another day. Another day to sing, another day to make some money.

If she ever woke up, it wouldn't be in her bed.  Instead she'd be spirited away down river on a raft, wrapped very snugly with rope around an equally groggy Chagall.

The sound of the bobbing boat, the hissing of insects and the cawing of ornery crows roused her. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the noise, nor atmosphere, but feeling the ropes bound to her, she growled.

"Couldn't wait until I was awake for my first gig?" but when she turned she noted she was tied to...
"Chagall." She blinked, then glared at him, and glared around. She struggled. "What the hell is this? What's going on? Where are we?"

The sound of his name was what roused him.  Chagall grunted, eyes open side at the sound of water, a creaking boat, and the squeeging sound of ropes.  Sounds he was all familiar with, but didn't always like. Not when it was like this!

Chagall jerked against the bindings, grunting and blinking at Starlight.  He was about to ask some useless questions when they immediately struck him as irrelevant.  He was quite angry however as he turned to look around them and found no one but them in the boat.

"Shh," he hissed.  "Listen.  Sounds like water....rushing."  They were headed downstream it seemed toward some...rapids?!

Starlight glared at him.
"Don't shush me! You need to start explainin' what the hells going on before I get angry!" But she too heard the rapids and grit her teeth. "Shit."

"I will have answers to give once we get off this blasted boat," Chagall huffed and worked at a loose binding around his feet. Once they were free, he kicked the ropes loose from his legs and shimmied his body some more.  His hands were sweaty enough to grease the edge of the ropes at his wrists.

The water started to get rocky then and the boat slammed hard into a boulder, tossing the bow upward and sending the boat reeling downward sharply.  The landing took in some water, and Chagall highly doubted the boat would last much longer on another hit like that.

While it seemed Chagall was able to get his bindings under control, Starlight wasn't so fortunate. And when the boat began to take in water, her demands were loud.
"Don't just wait for the boat to sink, help untie me!"

Chagall ignored her screams however, focusing intently on untying his own bonds.  He wriggled just right and finally pulled his hands free, yanking the ropes off of him.  He threw them dowm as the boat fought to stay with the current.  He moved quickly toward Starlight, trying for the knot when a particularly vicious rapid knocked him on top of her.

Starlight yelped and was seeing stars as the pair smacked heads. And then another rapid cracked into the side of the boat, and soon she was spiraling into the waters.

It wasn't a good sign at all.

Chagall was dizzy from the skull blow.  The boat rocked back sans Starlight and he scrambled around looking for any sign of her.  Finally there was motion in one surge of water and he saw her.  Without another thought, he dive into the frigid waters and started after her.

But grabbing onto the bound up Starlight wouldn't be easy, as the second he wrapped his arms around her- they smashed into a rock.

With Starlight taking the brunt of the crash.  Chagall gasped for breath, reaching up to desperately grasp at the rock but they were pulled off to the side and roling toward another rock.  He kept his grip on her, hefting her up with him.  He pulled the up onto another rock, bracing himself and pulling Starlight up with him.

The blow forced the wind out of her, and the water, in. Once above water, she began to cough out water, but each cough was painful, as the rock had left her with a nasty gash on her side.

Chagall was halfway up on the rocks when he shifted around and pulled them up.  Clinging to it was not easy, and when he saw a log rushing their way, he held his breath, shoving off the rock and pulling Starlight with him.  He swarm hard, trying to direct them toward the shore.

Normally able to keep her cool, Starlight was thoroughly freaked she had to go through this all tied up. If it weren't for Chagall, she'd be dead. But they were hardly in the clear. And her side hurt like hell.

Chagall snatched easily onto roots, hoisting Starlight up over the edge and pulling himself up over the river's ledge.   He gasped for breath, shaking the water from his hair before rushing over to Starlight and undoing her bindings.  Her wound was startling, but he kept himself calm and his hands quick, holding her side firmly and pulling her up onto his arms.

Thankful to be freed, she then realized she had more wounds than just the large gash as she hissed, "Easy there. We just survived some serious shit in the river." Despite her playful tone, her voice was still shaky. She winced. "Give me.. The rope. We can use it on the wound."

Chagall had the rope hooped in one hand and set her down when they were far enough from the river.  He panted, tired and sitting beside her and handing the rope off to her.  "It's not that bad," he said, although his tone wasn't confident.

The second the rope touched her wound she was flinching. "D-damn threads burn," and although she had attempted a laugh, it was a hard for her to swallow the pain in her voice.
"Got any extra cloth? That might serve better to clot this?"

"Not more than my own clothing," Chagall muttered.  This whole situation was a mess.  But they were alive and that ought to count for something for what it was worth.  "Here let me try this."  He removed his shirt and bundled it into a long roll.  He wrapped it around her with the thickened side against the wound.

He shivered, chilled from the cold air, but they were both soaking wet as it was.  Tying the sleeves around her hip, he looked up at her.  "How does that feel?"

"Like I have a man's shirt tied against me." She paused to study him. "Thank you. I know you didn't have to do half the things you have done for me."

"Hm, well too many bodies in the river tends to raise a lot of questions," he replied.  There was a hinted smile on his lips.  However small it was genuine, and vanished quickly.  Chagall sniffed and looked out between the trees.  "As for your questions, I'm as clueless as you are, I'm afraid.  We'll have to find some shelter from the elements if we want to survive long enough to obtain answers.  Shall we continue?"

She grit her teeth.
"I think I may need a minute. My side hurts... Just a little," came her breathy tease.

Chagall stood and offered her his hand to help her stand and support her weight if necessary.

She stared at his hand, brow raised.
"I wasn't kidding. Even breathing hurts."

He knelt beside her and took her arm, putting it over his shoulder.  "Whenever you're ready."

She sighed and looked over at him with a weak, half smile.
"Ready whenever you are. Just be sure to keep a hold on me. I'm not exactly feeling so level."

"I got you. Don't worry," Chagall said, smirking and holding her securely to him.  The going was long, and finding any place suitable wouldn't be easy.  But beggars couldn't be choosers in their condition.  The land sloped downward as they went and where a massive boulder shouldered their right side, slabs of stone bordered them on their left.

"Here look okay to you?" he asked thoughtfully.

She released a shaky sigh.
"Here's as good as any place." She winced as she paused to look around. "Yeah.. over there. Looks like there's some soft grasses we can sit on."

Chagall laid her where she indicated and got down on his knees to better push dirt away from the center of a handmade circle.  He made a hollow depression before taking some twigs and other dry kindling and piling them up.  "Stay here, I'm going to look for more firewood.  Anything that'll burn really.  We'll fucking freeze to death by nightfall if we don't" he said.

He didn't wait for her response before leaving her behind on that slope.  He came back a while later with dry sticks and other large blocks of wood he'd found, setting them beside the depressions.  "Hm," he murmured in thought before he went about taking a stick and prying it in half, he set it over the hole, and stuck something dry in it, before rubbing it abrasively with the other end and working on keeping the friction up.

Smoke would arise soon enough before feeding into a flame.

If she wasn't worried about her survival, she would have passed out during his absence. And she couldn't deny she was relieved when he had returned.

"You know, for a murderous criminal, you seem to know how to survive in the wilderness all on your own." She shuffled a bit closer to where he was making the fire. "You a lumber jack too? Or just a jack of all trades, hun?"

Chagall smirked again.  "I...just have a lot of wilderness experience.  Though I have to say I prefer cities to this.  Shall we look at your side?"

"Do you really want to?" she gave him a tired smirked and,moved to unbandage it. She winced at the depth of the wound.
"Well it don't look prretty, that's for damn sure."

"I'll just take a peek," he murmured and delicately placed his hands on her sides.  "Ouch," he whispered and gently took some of the ashes from the edge of the fire and gently pat it into her wound.  He squeezed out the water and gently helped her lie down, and laid the shirt out to dry.  "It'll hold better dry.  I also found these nuts to eat." He threw them into the fire to roast a moment before tending to her.

"You all right?"

"I'll live," she told him with a tired, crooked smile. But then her expression grew serious. "What do you know about what happened?"

Chagall frowned.  Frankly he didn't have much to answer her with, but based on where they woke up and what he did last time they met, it felt very connected to what happened to Redan Gordrin.

"When I last left you, I returned to where I was staying.  I went to sleep and when I woke up, I was with you on that boat, likely meant to get wrecked in the rapids and have us both drown.  You being with me can only mean that it has something to do with that package Redan was supposed to deliver.  The man met a nasty end, likely from the very same people that tried to do the same to us."

She frowned at him, and his proposal and sighed, disgustedly, and turned away.
"Figures,"s he muttered. She shook her head, then looked at the sky.
"We'll need to figure out just who. I mean they know who I am now and if I return to work..."
She was too easy of a target, and so could anyone else in the Peach, for that matter.

"We'll figure something out," Chagall said.  "For now, we're really in deep in these woods.  We get out alive, you heal up,and then we'll be able to look for the right people to talk to, allright?  It's not ideal, but we have few options here."

"Heal up?" She silently laughed as she rolled her eyes skyward. "I ain't waiting around here for my wound to heal up itself, sugar. I've got a job to do, remember? My time is valuable to my boss. It's not like the time I've got is mine to waste."

"And time and money is wasted if you get infected and die, darling," Chagall said pointedly.  He raised brows at her and observed the leaves around them.  "Curious.  Just a moment," he said and crawled over to a bush beside the boulder that shielded them.

"Siniv Ivy," Chagall murmured and plucked some of the leaves carefully.  "I think I can make you a poultice with some of these, to help keep infection at bay."

She raised a wristed hand to him.
"Whatever you can do, good doctor. My wound is in your hand."

Chagall broke up the leaves in his hands, wincing a little at the singing refreshness it brought to his flesh.  He laid his hands out along the sides of the wound, where he could already feel it was swelling and gently rubbed it in.

"How does that feel?" he inquired.

She winced at his touch.
"Still hurts like hell. Why?" She tucked some of her black hair behind her ear. "Is it supposed to magically heal me or somethin'?"

"No, but the mint of it should calm and cool the pain," Chagall said as he finally finished applying it.

"Calm I won't believe, but the burning does feel like it's subsiding." She studied him a moment before looking away, out into the forest. "Thanks again. But hopefully your efforts won't be a lost cause." They were very far from civilization. And who knows if they return to the city if those men won't try something funny again.

"Should I be worried if we return to Ketra that those men will try this again? They do know who I am, where I work and all. It's not exactly like the Randy Peach can up and relocate, or disappear. Although... maybe I should be asking for more details about you." ANd she eyed him over. "Just so I know how badly you've got me in over my head."

"Hon, you were way in over your head even before I arrived to clean up this mess.  And it just looks like it's about to get even messier.  I can't give you answers I don't have.  And returning back to the Peach...."  He paused, not to say the obvious, but it was clear in his eyes.

"Your friend Candy is not safe."

She knew that, and released a sigh through her nose.
"Then I guess we're heading back to Ketra as fast as we can."

"If that's possible," Chagall added, not that he had any real doubt.  They were miles into the wilderness, but all they needed to do was find a landmark or a trade caravan of some kind.  It shouldn't be too hard.  Or so he hoped.

She didn't like this idea of feeling so helpless. She was always such a strong figure head to the other Ladies of the Night. Now being so far away....
It was as if she were remembering she was a woman, and one with the sudden realization of mortality. Not that she didn't realize this before, but it was more towards her friends and the fear that not only Candy could get caught up and killed over this, but all the others, too.

She released a frustrated sigh and closed her eyes.
"When do you think it'd be wise for us to try to travel again?"
She knew her wounds had been bad, adn she'd be useless to anyone if she got herself into a worse state.

Chagall had finished his patching up and made a snap.  "You're good to go.  We'll leave as soon as it's morning," he said with a nod.  "Unless you feel well enough to travel now.  But we both look like hell."

"Hun," she gave him a look. "Do I look like I need to impress anyone? It's not like I'm working at the brothel. Come on, we should at least make some ground before calling it quits."

"In the middle of the night?  Nevermind the threat of roaming animals," he murmured with a chuckle.  "Very well."  He stood and put out the fire. "Come on then."

"Oh? And you think a dire wolf or bear would try to mess with me?" She narrowed her gaze on him. "Besides, even if we're stationary, it won't guarantee us anymore safety than us being out on the open road. And I'm anxious to get back."

"You certainly have a point.  Very well, let's get under way," he said.  Chagall was quick to put out the fire and leave behind no trace of their passing here.  He put his knife away and spread the ashes.

"So  how long exactly have you been doing this?  Professional...hm, ass-kicking," he said.

"Long enough," came her reply. She sized him up as she limped along. "What about you? How long have you worked at getting your hands dirty?"

"I guess about as long as I can remember.  I don't think this is what I set out to do in the beginning," he said with a shrug.

"Oh? And just what did you set out to do?" she asked, pausing to take a rest against a tree.

He stopped when she did.  "I think I wanted to be a pianist," he said.  "I guess I ended up using piano wire for something else." Eying her, he gently took an arm to place it around his shoulders.

"Pianist?" she gave a snort. "You've kinda come a long way away from being a musician, hun."

"You're telling me," he said with a shruf.  "What about you?"

"Me?" she gave a dry laugh. "Isn't it obvious? Im,living the dream. Men pay to fuck,me and hear me sing. Sometimes I think they even enjoy both of my talents," she went on, smartly.

He made a thoughtful noise.  "But is it your dream? Or theirs?"

She laughed, a sad sound.
"Hun, whores Don't have dreams."

"So you call yourself that?  Is that all you are?"

"Hey, watch it, hun. Just because we're partners for now doesn't mean we're on friendly terms for me to go all out to open up my heart. Besides, you seemed to enjoy me just as well as a whore."

"And you act as if you know all men," Chagall said.  "I gave, now you.  Quid pro quo."

"Quid pro quo? Hun," she shot him a look. "There is no any pro quo here."

"Of course.  Information is as good as gold in my business.  We did your business, now we're on my terms.  So what did you do before this?  Whoring is your profession now, but it's not all you are."

"Yeah, oh, I get it now. Like what kinda spare time activities do I find myself enjoying? Well, I don't mean to brag and all, but sometimes I find myself getting kidnapped, almost drowned then needing to survive in the woods. Kinda makes me feel like one of those nature nymphs or something," came her biting, sarcastic reply.

And he belted out a laugh.  It was crisp and clean, throat unusued to something quite like that.  The smile that expanded from it was as crisp and well-cut.  When laughter faded, Chagall shook his head.  "You mentioned singing before.  I'm sure it wasn't an accident that you can do it so well."

"Oh that? I,learned to sing and dance from a bear in the woods."
The sarcasm was strong with this one.

"And that bear gave you a temper that makes your eyes sparkle when it flares," he replied, sniffing. 

She barked a laugh.
"He also taught me how to throat punch a man," she warned, voice sassy as ever.

"Oh yeah, care to demonstrate?"

She eyed him.
"Don't tempt me."

"I guess we're stuck as two sour beans," he said, chuckling.

"Sour? Puh. If anything, hun, I'm sweet." She pat his shoulder.  "But you can keep all the sours and the beans. Can't say I'm fond of neither."

"Indigestion is nothing to be ashamed of," Chagall muttered.  "What could possibly make you so sweet?"

She fluffed her hair.
"You're more aware of that one, hun. You did have a taste."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged indifferently.

She rolled her eyes before slowing her stride. It truly hurt to walk. But she needed to get back to the city. To the Randy Peach.

"Do you happen to know what River we were sent down?"
It might help them with figuring out just how far from civilization they were.

He gave a sigh.  "From the looks of it," he began.  "It seems we've come across the Cadras river.  But I only know a little of the terrain."

She frowned.
"And I know littler.." Shaking her head, she gestured forward. "Lets keep moving, and as fast as we can."

"We can't go any faster than you can.  Would you prefer I left you behind?" he asked pointedly.

She gave a frustrated sigh.
"No."
She hated that he had a point.
"Let's just.. keep moving."

The going was long and without any real direction they didn't get far.  For a moment it seemed as if they were going in circles, however Chagall made a point of not rubbing it in.  He was exhausted by the time daylight came, and they found themselves on the edge of a rising hill.  If anything it would provide them with some higher ground.

"Ugh," she was exhausted, frustrated and about ready to scream.
"How vast are these forests, really?" It was about time she showed off her limited knowledge of anything outside of the city- for even to her, a city was a vast forest itself, only buildings replaced the trees and wild animals were simply savage men.

"You're complaining about nature?"  He turned his gaze to her curiously.

"Hun, call it what you will, I'm too tired to care." Sighing, she looked ahead. "Let's just find a good place to rest, okay? I can't walk another step."

"Okay. Dear."  He shrugged and stopped by the edge of the hill.  He would climb it later when he had some time.  For now, he was getting hungry and tired of Starlight's complaining.

Starlight involuntarily leaned into him, groaning a little as her wounds stung her side.
"Do you think we could camp here?" she figured this place was as good as any.

He helped her down.  "Yeah, it'll do for now.  You stay here, I'll find us something to chow down on...  there should be rabbits to hunt around here," he murmured.  "How's your side?"

She gave a soft laugh at his question.
"It hurts.. but I'm still livin', ain't I?" Raising a brow, she looked him over.
"You have the right equipment to try to hunt? I can't say I'm a hunter by anymeans.. it's just..."
Perhaps part of her didn't like the idea of being alone. She knew without Chagall, she'd surely die (even if this was all his fault!)

"It shouldn't take more than.an hour. I'll set up some snares and wait and see if I catch anything," he said.  "It'll be fine I assure you."

Starlight frowned.
"Alright." She just remained where she sat, but moved to fold her arms. "Guess I'll just sit here and look pretty."
There really wasn't much else she could do.

Chagall left, but not before giving her a small pick from the inside of his boot.  Even being bound, somehow their captors had failed to find that in his clothing.  Nevertheless, it was better than nothing until he was back.

After a while, he managed to capture a hare, a large one at that and clasped it firmly in one hand as he returned to where he'd left Starlight.

"I hope you're hungry.  This is going to make some good eating," he said. 

Starlight was strung out. She was only able to fidget restless while he was gone. Times like these she could use a good patron to help wear her out for a goodnight's sleep. But relief washed over her when he returned- she would have cursed him ten times over had he left her to rot.

Seeing the rabbit, she couldn't help but smile.
"Sounds wonderful. I'm starving." And she was glad hungry was overtaking the queasy sensation she had been feeling inside her belly, and the pain from the wound.

The sight of her brought a quiet relief for him, but Chagall had never been a man to show much emotion.  He just laid the rabbit out beside her and he moved to start a fire.  He was hungrier than he thought when his stomach growled loudly.  He paused in his fire making, and looked at her.  "Sorry."

"For what? Your belly rumbling? Hun..." she smirked, giving him a look. "Don't forget what I am. I've seen and heard a lot worse than a hungry man."

He smirked at her, working steadily on the fire, working the sparks until the small pile of branches, leaves, and deadwood began to smoke up.  "You really like that word don't ya?  Hun.  Why do you like it so much?" he asked.

She arched a brow, before laughing.
"What? You don't like it?" she prettily jested, with a flutter of her long, dark lashes.

"You first," he said with a shrug as he continued to work on the hare, hands bloody and he concentrated on the skinning of the creature.  The meat was plentiful and would have to be cleaned.  But for now, the fire would give them a mounting place to cook the meat thoroughly.

"You're no fun. You know you gotta lighten up. It'll make dealing with my company a lot easier," she went on, moving to kneed her fingers into his shoulder muscles.
"Kia's name! You're so tight!"

Chagall paused when she started to knead his back.  He looked at her from over his shoulder.  I am lightened up, all things considered.  But why should I answer when you won't?" he muttered with a grin. 

Her grin grew coy as she continued to massage his shoulders.
"Hun is just a shortened version of Honey." She gave a playful tilt of her head and asked, "Why? Don't like being called something sweet?"

"But why do you say it so much?" he asked again.  "Why do you like it?"

She laughed and gave a shrug.
"Does it matter? Huh.. come to think of it, I can't recall a time I haven't used the word." Shaking her head, as if to shake off the thought, she sighed and continued to work at his shoulders. "What you should be worrying about are these stiff shoulders. How can you handle yourself with stiff muscles like this?"

Chagall shrugged out of her touch when he finally had the fire going.  He shrugged.  "My shoulders are fine, thanks," he said idly and went about cooking the rabbit.  "And to answer your question. No it doesn't bother me.  So, how do you want your cut? Well-done?"

"Man, aren't we evasive," she muttered, but smirked none the less. "Any way you cook it'll be fine, I'm sure. I'm too starving to care."

Chagall smirked at her.  He was quiet and concentrated on the meat, turning it over until the juices made the fire slick up and snap at the meat.  "It's ready.  Shame I have no spices, but it'll do for now."  And took a small bite out of a steaming leg.

Starlight felt herself salivating at the smells. Watching him take the first bite, she found herself asking, "So how's it taste, Chef Chagall?"

"Here.  You're practically drooling," he said, standing to give her a piece.

"It smells heavenly," she admitted, and let her teeth sink in and immediately moaned as the savory meat filled her mouth with it's juices and flavor. She chewed on it slowly to savor it.
"And it tastes divine."

"It must be if you're making that much noise," he said with a chuckle.  He ate his piece quietly, licking at his fingers when juices trickled down his hand.

She smirked and licked at her own fingers.
"Don't worry, I'll owe you a few free rounds at the Peach when we get back." Assuming they ever got back. "This meal is worth at least three long night's with me."

"I'm not sure this hare is as valuable as sex.  It's fine.  We both needed to eat or we'd be eating each other.  Which, is good it didn't come to that," he said and licked off the bone before casting it in one pile and taking another piece of meat.  "There's no need to repay me."

"You know, I'd let you eat me," she joked, smirking as she moved to finish the meat off another bone.
"But I mean it. You saved my life. I owe you at least somethin'."

"I don't like debts. At least not these kind.  Trust me it's fine.  You owe me nothing."  Chagall ate until he had his filfull and he took the disposed bones and threw them into the fire.  Other debts however were just fine, especially if he had to call in a favor later.

"Do you always try to pay with sex?"

"No, but that's my normal currency." Did he forget she was a whore? It's what she did!

"Interesting to know.  Well, how does your side feel then?  Should I take a look at it?"  He didn't really give her time or a chance to give permission before he was beside her and methodically looking over where he'd worked on before.

"Looks good, just try to be careful with it.  Thankfully it won't put you out of business."

She huffed, not unused to men's closeness.
"Yeah, but men talk. And I ain't one of the whores known for scars." But she supposed it was what it was. "My boss is gonna flip. But," she shrugged. "What else is new."

Shaking off the ide aof her work, she sat up some more and leaned forward to inspect Chagall.
"So Doctor Chaga-nall," she went on, making up a monicker for his alter ego she was making up ont he spot. "Are her wounds so bad? Will she ever fuck a man again and make all of that sweet coin her boss loves oh so very much?"

Chagall was wise enough to catch on.  Folding his legs up, he wrapped arms around them and leaned forward, watching the bones blacken in the fire.

"I don't know the prognosis is prettu grim.  If she fucks, it won't be like she used to.  She might no longer have use of her limbs. Or her tongue.  Which would be a real shame."

"Yeah...." she went on, giving a playfully animated roll of her tongue over her lips. "The men always said I was rather good with my tongue." She leaned in closer to Chagall. "They say a good singer has to have a good tongue," and she made as if she were about to lap his neck, but withdrew instead, eyes dancing with mirth.

"Don't take this the wrong way but did you get hit really hard on the head?"

Chagall laughed and began perusing her scalp just in case he missed somewhere important.

She gave a swat to his hand.
"Hey- what are you doing? I'm fine, I'm fine," and she managed to shove him back before using her hand to comb through her hair- which was futile. She gave a snort. "Or as fine as I can be.. considering."

"No no, I think I felt a lump there," Chagall said and moved in to inspect her scalp again.

She smacked his hand away harder.
"Ha,ha," came her salty reply. "Next you'll be feeling my chest saying I have two big lumps," she muttered, grabbing her own large breasts for emphasis.

"Are you seriously going to refute my inspection simply because you think I'm going to feel you up?  Do you think so low of me," he scoffed and shook his head.  "Fine, keep your lumpy head. It's none of my affair."

And at that, she burst out laughing, unable to contain it as her eyes even began to tear.

At least she found it amusing.  In his rare moments of humor, even Chagall could smile.  He chuckled amid her outburst and returned his gaze back to the burning bones.

Starlight's eyes widened.
"hey.." she grabbed his arm suddenly and leaned forward. "Is that a smile?"

He turned to face her.  "Maybe, you have an amusing cackle.  It made me smirk.  Is that bad?"

"Cackle?" her smirk grew. "No.. I guess not. But.. cackle?"

"Or should I rephrase, a delightful jingle of a hundred bells," he laughed and his smile grew.

She moved to playfully pinch his cheek.
"Aw, how sweet of you. A real rose in a cowpie pasture," she told him with a smirk.

"I guess you have a lot of experience with cowpies.  Good to know."

She laughed.
"Actually, I can't say I've ever seen or smelled one. It's not like the Peaches make calls out into the country. Farmers are... rare visitors. They haven't got much money, so unless they've got some other sort of money stashed away..... although I'm sure you care about all that," she went on, clearing her throat and looking away.

"Money is my business, sugarpie," Chagall said casually.  "It's all I care about.  That and sending a message when someone tries to send me downriver."

"Oh?" she perked up. "So you gonna send them a love letter for giving you a free river ride?"

"Ha. You must be part jester in your spare time.  You're so funny," he chuckled.

She smirked most satisfactory. "I'm a woman of many skills. But you have to admit... it doesn't seem like you'll be able to carry out such a promise anytime soon."

"None of my promises are carried out soon," he said carefully criss-crossing his legs and leaning on them.  "I'm patient when I have to be."

She looked at him with some interest.
"I suppose it comes with the turf."

"Don't you have gripes with your job?"

"Oh, trust me, hun, there's plenty to gripe about. Like how sloppy a man fucks, how small his cock is, how too big his cock is." She smirked. "I could go on."

Chagall laughed, this time genuine.  "So what would be your ideal john?"

"Ideal?" she looked away with a laugh and shook her head skyward. "I dunno... maybe one that doesn't reek? Or talks about all of his conquests, or how bad his wife is..."
She shook her head.
"I don't know, really. I've had all types and catered to all sorts.... It never occurred to me to consider any man as ideal." She shrugged. "They pay for what they get- and men pay a pretty sum to get into my room. I suppose I don't have any ideal." She gave another shrug.

"Fine, forget an ideal john.  What's your ideal man?  Just a regular person, not a customer, not a client. Sex isn't even on the table."

"Ideal man?" she laughed. "Is that suppose to be some sort of a joke?"

"No. It's a serious question.  Just pretend you're not a whore, pretend you're being courted by a handsome gentleman.  What is he like? What is your ideal man?"

She frowned and was taken a back and looked the man over.
"Handsome? What does it matter if he's handsome? A good man is hardly reflective in his appearance."

"However visually pleasing he is to you," he said.  "What kind of man is he?"

"Good looks are nice, sure, as it helps with the libido, but in all honesty, it's the nice guys who make for a change of pace. A soldier with a good purpose, or a guard with some honor... But those men rarely frequent the Peach." She gave a shrug at the idea and looked up towards the sky. "Even still.. I tend to like those who are good, but find themselves needing a good night with me. I know it sounds silly, and bedding a whore might be something these men regret later, but it's refreshing to see a good man make mistakes, and reminds me that we're all humans.. we're all vulnerable, and we all can't live up to our own expectations."

She went quiet as she thought it over before smiling and sighing through her nose. She shook her head.

"I guess it's just nice to pretend to be their wife, as silly as that sounds. They regard you as their entire world. And you can see their pain, how much their hurting, and it makes me want to better myself, better than moment for them. It's usually some of the best sex... However, it has also lead to some of the worst sex. I've had a man cry after finishing up, and it was strange to have to comfort him. I'm there to pleasure him, not console. But he did pay for the bed, so sometimes I just be a shoulder to cry on after a man feels like I've become one expensive mistake."

And again, she went silent with thought.

"I can't say I'd ever thought of a perfect man, nor would want to. It's hard to remove the idea of men from being a client, or a person who just sees us as their source of pleasure." She shrugged and finally looked to him. "Why?" She smirked playfully. "Always wondered if a whore had a dream man? Can't say a good, muscled body doesn't get my heat flowing. Like you, you were surprisingly very good. Normally men like you are in there, fuck and leave quietly. Never thought I'd end up nearly dead because someone thought we were connected somehow."

Starlight shook her head again.

"But a nice body is nice," she shrugged. "I can appreciate a muscled man and when I have one at my bed side, I simply let my mind drift towards the natural attraction and shut off any other thoughts. I'm not there to converse with most men, but some do surprise me with their wit and knowledge. Oh, and their skill." She smirked. "Some men are just really, really good at fucking. And those ones I just let myself indulge with. You'd be surprised at how many men are just bad at it."

A good man, huh?  He supposed that was all anyone could ask for.  He didn't know why he asked exactly, perhaps just as a conversation starter, or out of sheer curiosity.  He supposed some men saw a whore and that was all they would ever see.  Few could separate their profession from the soul that went about doing it.  Some jobs were even harder to separate from even if one tried.  There was always more to do, more in need, more that wanted.

"I'm actually not all that surprised by it," he said with a nod.  He'd been listening intently and chuckled at the right intervals.  "Men are sloppy in general.  It takes years of practice to earn any precision at all."

She couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh is that it? Maybe I should only take clients who are archers!" she laughed again. "More specifically, ones that can hit a bullseye."

"If it'll make you see you're brain, why not?" he asked with a playful smirk.  He eased down a little bit and wished they had something hot to drink.  He would just have to do without. "I'm sure you're profession has made you a worldly woman."

"And what about your profession? Do you think you're a worldly man?"

"I suppose so, in a manner of speaking," he said with a shrug.  He looked at her in a sidelong glance. "It seems to take me to places I didn't expect.  But it's the name of the game."

"Oh?" She arched a brow, "what did you expect?"

"Frankly, I expected an easy job and to be on my back up North by now.  I certainly didn't expect to be caught in the middle of the forest with a well-bred lady.". He sighed and curled himself over his legs, trying to stay warm.

"Well bred?" Her arched brow raised higher. Then she laughed. "If you mean queen of sex, then I'd agree." Smirking, she gave a toss of her hair.

Chagall shook his head. "That's what I'm talking about. The sex is decent. But I mean the quick wit, the way you carry yourself. You show a surprising intellect, are literate, and versed in music. Not all prostitutes would be arranged to learn such a skillset. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you'll just deny or dodge the assertions. So, you either were a well-born lady or a courtesan banished from her court.  But as ever, you won't tell me."

Her smile was smug now as she replied, "Well, I did cost my boss a pretty penny to obtain." But even with her smooth retort, there was something else lingering, be it in her tone or disposition.

"Oh?  I bet it set him back a month's worth of revenue. He must've gone through great lengths to obtain you....  Taking you away from whatever life you had before? Was it sanctuary in comparison?" he breathed and leaned toward her.

Despite her smile, there was a sadness to her expression.
"Sanctuary?" She cringed a little as her voice cracked. "Don't you know it?" She leaned in too, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Especially when every night is like heaven."

Thumbing under her chin, bringing her face up to his, Chagall leaned closer until he could feel her breath against him. His eyes narrowed in thought. "Heaven was denied to me a long time ago," he muttered. "This world is the closest I'll ever get."

It was too close for comfort. She felt strange and inside, she itched. But she only knew one way to cope, and fumbled for that outlet as her hands found his face as she pressed her lips into his, and her body fell suit.

That outlet briefly touched Chagall, but he found himself responding to the contact.  Instead of pulling away as he might have in another moment, he leaned forward against her, snaking arms around her waist.  When they were chest to chest and he could feel the beating of her heart, he paused to take in a deep breath.

He wanted to speak, but fear held his tongue. Instead he just searched her features for any reason she might have kissed him.  He supposed it didn't really matter and leaned forward gentler this time, testing the waters of a softer kiss.

Emotions would be like stars in her eyes, but not the dreamy sort. Sure, there was lust, but fear laced in there as well, as painful thoughts needed to be pushed away; and other warmths sought out.

She hadn't excepted his reply, at least not in this way. Soft kisses were met with a bit more hungered ones of her own, before she whimpered and slowed down as he did, wondering why he was being so gentle. It made her feel even more vulnerable, and her hands pawed at him, pulling him close, and her lips pressed a little harder with need.

The need for another's physical touch was innate in all mankind. It need not always be born of lust, or what was expected. He treated her as he himself would like to be treated, since he was not always a gentle man, and life was rarely ever gentle with him. He was curious in his touches, however, and he kissed her deeper as hunger from deep inside took hold.

He kissed her with the roughness of chapped lips and even pulled and tugged on them when he pulled away, hands holding her close, a D carefully working away any fabric of her clothing.  Still no worded reply, only the want of his touch.

She plucked open only what she had to of his clothes, a hand smoothing over the warmth of his chest; and then smoothing lower to unleash the want in his pants. It too was warm, hot even as expert hands moved around it's length, caressing and gripping; but not once being too eager or rough. No, her lips responded that way, but her body was another story, moving in tune to his own actions and treating his body like that she might do upon herself, were she to put herself in the man's shoes.

Breath hitched when she touched his turgid member. Chagall shivered at the contact, feeling himself give into her touch. He was not an amicable man, or agreeable in any form. The kiss had roughened until it was as all consuming as the fire beside them. He helped her removing his clothing, moving away so that he could slip out of them.

"Come here," he murmured, crawling back to her and kneeling. He kissed her once more with that same tempered passion, until it burned once more.  His hand found her breast, thumb rolling over the point of her nipple, and his lips found her throat, roving down until he could feel her pulse beneath his lips.

Breath mixed with kisses had her shivering, skin trembling cold while blood running hot. Her own hands smoothed down around the revealed flesh of his thigh, traipsing across sensitive flesh when there, before smoothing up broader muscles still. A second hand moved like a snake up his back and fisted into his hair, a gesture she hoped guide his mouth towards her swollen breasts, as she heaved her chest out, wantonly.

Both of them were now bare to the cold and cool night. Beside the fire, he leaned over her, arms now wrapping the small of her back, her waist, as he kissed at her breasts, sucking gently on the heated flesh. He coaxed her onto his lips, putting his hardness between them until slowly rolling it against her heat.

He was quiet in his consumption, but there was no doubt as to the hunger he had for her. Somehow it seemed more than the physical, stemming more into the need for contact with another.  A soft moan escaped him, and he turned them so that he could mount her.

She was steaming with heat and slick with need well before he claimed her. She didn't mind the wait, knowing it would only be all the more satisfying when he finally took his claim. When he did, her eyes were rolling back to see her brains, a moan came out low and gutteral as finger nails raked up his back side harshly, drawing blood. And she moved, hips of their own locomotion, as she panted and kissed and sucked at his skin, tasting his sweat, and reveling int he scent of their uniting.

If there was one wish, it was that he knew her real name. As it was, the only name he could moan out was, "Starlight.". And his breath came in heated pants as he moved with need, thrusting deep but slow. He didn't have to fight for control of himself. He wanted to hear her moan, scream, shout, whatever she needed to ease into release.

Would she have wanted him to scream her name had he known it? So many years had past, any other identity seemed like a well buried grave. She gave up that life, its memories, the moment she found herself at the Peach.

But she wasn't at the Peach, and the very real moans of a woman in heat captured her very being as she clung to him and moved with desperation. This wasn't about the Peach. It was about the heat, about the need, and just doing whatever she wanted, where she wanted, and with a damned criminal if she ought want to. And the begging in her tone was enough to prove that she very much wanted to as hips and screams urged him to move faster.

He took her with need, and a desperation of his own. Every roll of his hips brought him closer to the edge of ecstasy. Still, however, he relished in her cries, the heat of the fire no longer being the only thing keeping warm.  Chagall captured her lips roughly, plucking at her lips, and kissing with need.

The longer they went, the tighter she got, writhing and digging finger nails into whatever she could. She was taking him all in, swallowing him whole before the whole dam broke- and the heat, the pleasure, the intensity she had built up burst forth, and she was crying out, sobbing and rocking and going hoarse over ecstasy. All in all until she finally shivered and crumpled against him in a soft moaning heap of heat and a gently pulsating sex as she worked herself down from her peak.

"Gods above.." she panted, eyes closed and heart hammering. "It always feels so good to cum."

She was not the only one writhing in ecstasy. And when her body quivered and at last, he shuddered and burst, resting his head against her chest in the aftermath of their heat. Chagall only carefully looked up at her.

He kissed her gently, along her cheek and brow and finally at her lips.  He said nothing, only gave a small grin, even playful.

She just lay there, letting him do whatever while trying to catch her breath. She caught a bit of his cockiness and raised a brow before giving him a shove.
"Don't be too proud of yourself. Even whores like to fuck."

"Good to know," he chuckled rolling off her.  He said nothing regarding that, but she was inclined to believe as she pleased. What was he going to do to sway her opinion.

Chagall rolled to lie down beside her and somehow felt a faint desire to wrap her in his arms. He didn't know why, he just wanted to. So he did, and simply enjoyed the feel of her beside him.

Was it strange it was actually comforting? Not to mention she was feeling a bit cold and a little vulnerable, considering she was far outside her comfort zone. But they were out here to survive. Strange how they ended up having sex. She played with a strand of her hair and thought it all over, then tried to unthink about it because she was hoping to relax after that nice round of sex.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

Chagall pulled his shirt up and over the both of them and threw another piece of kindling on the log before he wrapped his arms back around her.  He curled up against her and laid onto his side.  He just admired her for a moment, quiet and pushing her hair back from her face.

"Good night, Starlight," he murmured, kissing her softly.  It was oddly intimate, but he would let himself relish in it for the moment.  The fewest chances afforded to him were the ones he wanted to take the most.

It was odd indeed. Granted, she was no stranger to men fantasizing she was something sweeter than just a one night time of pleasure. She supposed this time felt... well.. different. She had, afte rall, just had sex without payment, on her own accord.

Sighing, she just closed her eyes and tried nto to think about it. Were her boss to find out...
Chagall would have to pay- and belated expenses too. Assuming.. she ever returned to the Peach.

The idea of not returning crossed her mind. But as much as she'd love to remain free ont he road, someone would find her...
And she had too many 'sisters' back at the Peach that needed her. and she knew she needed them. They had created a sort of family, and she knew she'd be damning herself if she stayed away for too long.

Damn. Despite how good the sex was, she was moving anxiously beside Chagall, all the while he had just been laying there, enjoying the after glow.

If he'd gotten any sleep, it was over way too soon. Chagall had closed his eyes and he when he felt her stirring beside him those eyes tiredly peaked open as he turned onto his side.  "Hey," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"  Something clearly was wrong, and although she hadn't said it, it was going to keep both of them up all night.

Starlight frowned as she stared at the stars.
"I worry about my friends and what's going on at the Peach." No doubt someone was getting into trouble for her sudden disappearance.

Chagall sat up and stretched, turning to look down at her. "Then we should get moving again, then. I wouldn't want to keep you overlong. Although moving at this time of night might expend energy we can't afford to lose," he breathed.  "But we can get going if you want. I think however, your friends, for the most part, are safer than we are. If you were out on that boat, sent out to your death, it was because of me and that association. Your friends are not connected to that beyond the vigilante work you do."

She gave him a look.
"And you don't think I still wouldn't worry? If they think they're connected to me or to you, they're in trouble. Not to mention what my boss is doing to them now. I'm pretty sure the man is livid without his little Starlight to sing songs and get him high dollars for a private, stylized fuck."

"That is not what I said. Your worry is perfectly justified. But if you wish to leave now, we won't be in any better state than we are. As ever, though, what's your answer? Should we leave?" he asked.

She hesitated and hated what that implied.
"I.. can't leave those girls like that." she shook her head. "I can't afford to dawdle."

"Then our decision is made," Chagal murmured and sat up. He got to his feet and quickly reached for his clothes, slipping them on with a hike and a jump. He buttoned tucked his shirt into his trousers, buckling them and helping her into her own as well. "Let's get going before the sun rises then. Best to get a head start, yeah?"

She simply eyed him, where as he was quick to hop into his pants, she lazily stretched and reached for her clothing.
"I suppose we could." But she was feeling a bit tired after all that sex. Too bad they hadn't a bath anywhere near them. She could do with a nice good hot, bubbly bath to clean up with.

Really? Now she was too tired to get up and do anything. Chagall made a deep and agitated sigh. And waited for her to finally redress while he kicked out their fire and spread the ashes accordingly. It was best not to leave too many traces of what they left behind.

Chagall took hold of Starlight's arm, holding the crook of it gently in that pitch black night, and started off in the direction they had been going in the first place.

Their travel was mostly quiet. It was better that way and gave her time to rest and reflect. Hours passed, however, until the sun began to rise. It was only then that she realized how tired she was. And how hungry.

"I need to rest. Just for a few moments," she said, leaning heavily into a tree before guiding herself down to sit upon a fallen log. The morning air was thick with a white, chilly fog. Visibility was difficult at best, and the world smelled of fresh dew.

She took the moment to brush her fingers through her hair, making a face each time her hands caught in knots, but she kept at it until her hair was visibly tamer than it had been all morning. But it was still something out of control. It was her hair she was known for, and she used this moment to begin to pull the pieces back, braiding it as best she could before letting the thick braid fall down along her back. She already felt better for it, it being freeing to feel the morning's air against her bare neck and throat.

Sighing, she tossed her heavy bangs from her face and turne dto Chagall.
"All of this walking is making me hungry." She gave him a small smile. "I wonder how much longer before we find a town and an inn with some decent food."