"You arrived earlier than I expected."
She was surprised – hell, they always were. Many thought 'mercenary' and images of big, hulking brutes were the first to come to mind. Men with no honor or class, they thought, must be mercs, men who could not, and did not, care for the rules of society, must be the only sort of man willing to sell himself for a few bits of gold. It was the same old story, and he'd heard it over and over, so many times before.
Ira stood before her, the Priestess in silk, and smiled pensively, shaking his head. He could feel the Priestess sizing him up now – he must've looked nothing like what she expected. Ira, the giant, standing at six feet, two inches, with his muscular, but not hulking frame – his gentle (too gentle, not threatening at all) clear blue eyes, and his long copper brown hair, that fell to his waist, curtained his frame. He did not fit the stereotype of a merc. She was taking a gamble on him.
"I came when you called," was Ira's simple retort. He shifted in place, and the bow and quiver that was strapped to his back adjusted to his gait. When he looked up at her, it was his sharp, hawkish gaze, perhaps, that may have convinced her that he was more than met the eye. "I'm not one who likes to keep a woman waiting."
"Mercenary," she began, after a long pause, "It is I who must keep you waiting. I assumed you'd be late, and my associates do not have our target location pinpointed just yet. It will be some time before I'll have the information you'll need – the enemy's name, its face, and where it rests its head at night." She laughed, and it echoed off the temple walls like church bells on a Sunday afternoon. "You've done yourself a disservice, by arriving on time."
It was the story of his life. "I've inconvenienced you – but, ah, why not stay, until the information surfaces? The women here, you'll find, are most... helpful. Tell them your plight, and they'll lead you to a room you may stay in, for the time." A coy smile played on the Priestess' lips. "Oh, and if you're lonely, and you've got the coin... I'm sure one of my girls would be more than happy to keep your company."
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He couldn't imagine why a temple in La'marri would have enemies, and he couldn't imagine why the Priestess would need someone – or something, maybe – killed, but he never questioned his contracts. This place, there was something...
poisonous about it, but just what that poison was, well, he couldn't exactly put his finger on it. Perhaps it just felt dirty to stay in a temple that was not devoted to Ansgar. Who could know, who could tell. He'd immersed himself in so many different cultures since he left home, he wasn't sure what bothered him and what didn't, nowadays.
The girls would take him to his room, she'd say – and give a little extra for coin, she'd promised. He had no use for the extra – and couldn't imagine
why in Ansgar's name temple assistants would offer themselves up for a few coin, but he didn't think on it. Or at least, he tried not to think on it. The temple girls here were flirty, tempting, coquettes in fine linens that seemed eager to please – every breath they took, every gesture, every
signal and wordless verbal cue, screamed to please, and it was unnerving.
Don't think on it, he said, because this was a job, not something to make complicated – not something involve himself too deeply in. He was here for the coin, and that's all there was to it.
Evening had fallen quickly, the moon resting listlessly in the dark sky. Ira had taken to the courtyards, finding the solace of nature more comforting than the temple's marble halls. He could probably sleep out here, he figured – it reminded him of being out on the road, when all he'd have for shelter were the branches of trees, making a canopy for him, sheltering him from the element's that raged around him.
This courtyard's garden was silent, except for a faint whisper that fell near the trees – near the weeping willow. Curious, he stepped lightly towards the tree, placing his hand on the trunk, and looking down, to find a woman curled up, despondent, defeated. Ira wondered if he had interrupted a prayer session, or something of the sort, but he couldn't just leave someone looking so downhearted, the way she did.
"You don't look nearly as happy as the rest of the attendants here," Ira noted, recalling the happy, eager smiles of the other women in the temple. "What's got you down?" Even if it was none of his business – which he suspected it
was – his conscience made it so he had to say
something.
[ I took some liberties with the Priestess in the beginning of the post, I hope that's okay! ]