This tags to
@Wicked Basket !
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The top of the world! Where else would he be?
The night was dark, but the dim light of candles that shone in the small premise of the brothel was enough to see in. Enough to grab the glass of thick, strong wine that rested on the table before him, and wrap his arm around the wench on his lap. All that a man needed to stay content for a night, all that would be good to spend his coin on.
Off course, there were other things he could waste gold on. He had a new white shirt folded and resting in his bag, and his coat was... While not new, at least more recent than the last one. And in a better condition. The black fabric was smooth and comfortable, even as the girl tugged at his collar and playfully struggled to get it off him with a cheeky grin on her plump lips.
She was a small thing, with pale, milky skin, but her hips were nice and round. She had small breasts, just enough to fill her bodice, but her thighs were more well-endowed, and she was crowned by a wild mane of loose black curls, flowing around her sweet heart-shaped face. Young, hardly past her eighteenth winter.
His heavy hand cupped her cheek, and he licked the wine off his lips.
"Sweetling," His hand dug into her hair, feeling its soft strands underneath his fingers.
"Yes? More wine?" She aimed those dark, starry eyes at him, and he chuckled, shaking his head softly. "Upstairs. Come." he purred back, and his hand swiftly slipped down, onto her waist, curling about it and pulling her towards him, till he could feel her warmth even through the faded red linen dress she wore. It suited well, he would have thought was he a little more sober. At the moment, the fabric bothered him. He wanted it off her.
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Finally, he lay abed, the girl's head at his chest. She slept; she slept, yet he could not. He had hardly closed his eyes for an hour when he awoke again. In the darkness, in which a single brazier burnt with a flickering orange light, he could not close his eyes, though his mind was confused by alcohol. He had drank a lot. That much was true; still there rested an empty bottle of cheap wine on the bedside table. Strangely enough, he felt as if his head was strangely clear, swimming in the odd calmness of the night.
From downstairs and the surrounding rooms, an entire array of sounds came. He didn't have to wonder for their source too much... Neither would he for the stenches that filled the air. There was hot coal, fire, the stench of sweat, furs...
Fire...
Fire. What? Why fire? That wasn't right. There shouldn't be that...
The odor of fire alarmed him. For a mere moment, he could feel it again, crawling across his skin and deep underneath it, and he very near panicked; only his will stayed him. He shook the wench off, sliding off from underneath the blankets and pulling his breeches and shirt off as fast as possible. She blinked at him in confusion, pulling the blanket up to hide herself, but he no longer paid her any heed.
"Something stinks of fire in here." he growled, lacing his boots as he sat on the edge of the bed.
