It was quiet at the late hour, and many in The Hollows slept the short hours they had before dawn would would rouse them from their slumber to toil their labours until dusk brought them home to sup and sleep again. Others were up, those who's trade required them to be awake all eve, or those skulking about the alleys, nooks and crannies, sneaking to the perimeters that bordered to the downtown areas, waiting some soused lord or merchant to wander a little too close to the poorer slums and have their purse filched -- or if they were far unluckier, their purses stolen, clothes torn off and throats slit.
The summer night was beautiful, even with the amber glow of lanterns and torches that dotted the streets like fireflies in the spring. Stars speckled their diamond canvas across the sky. The moon a thin crescent, sinking slowly towards the horizon, golden brown and mysterious. It was even a little peaceful, the dogs and babes seemed to be sleeping, too, a rarity for summer nights in this part of town.
Ella never tired of watching the day to day goings on of town and city life, whether it was the busy humdrum of the day, or the sleepy, hazy activity of evenings. She sat by a small window, moonlight gleaming in her good eye, her hands clasped about her knees. This night was different, though, for she had company, even if it was paid company. Her deformity meant she often didn't have the best of clients, and even the better ones rarely paid much more than the average price of a whore for her services. At least tonight, she liked the man she had served.
She watched him as he stood by the bedside, dressing himself. Not the first time she'd seen him do so, though this night things seemed different. His movements were rigid, meticulous. Careful, even, much more careful than she often saw him.
"Early start?" she asked him. It had been the first words spoken since their deed had been done, a long intermittent silence between both parties. She watched as he tightened the padded garment that he'd slipped over cotton tunic, pulling the sleeves tight. She smiled, looking upon the contours of his face in the dim candelight.
"Always," the sellsword replied. Fingers worked to tighten the belt at his waist, before he turned for his mail hauberk, the rings hissing as he rolled it up and over, folding back the longer sleeves into the padded fabric. He grunted as he reached for the clasp behind him.
The whore stood slowly, her hands moving gently over the clasp. "Here," she said. She'd dressed and undressed so many soldiers in her lifetime, she might have considered herself some form of squire or page. Fingers worked quickly, clasps and links coming together without a single pinch against his scarred back. "You're tense," she whispered, a free hand reaching to rest against his shoulder. "I've never seen you tense before."
"Different sort of work," he replied, a hand rising to his shoulder to clasp hers. "Different sort of job."
"Dangerous men this time?" Her lips curved into a smile. "Monsters?"
He squeezed her hand gently. "No. Summat else." He leaned down, stooping to fetch his brigadine, a jack of plates made of boiled leather and steel sheets, with oiled iron studs on the outer layers. It was heavy, and he grunted as he slipped into it. Ella helped with the straps without so much as a word of complaint, well practiced in such tasks.
"Something else?" she repeated. "What else could there be?" She tightened the final strap with a hard pull, and he grunted with discomfort, turning to face her with narrowed eyes. She met him with a teasing smile, and it wasn't long before his own wry grin was back. She lowered a hand to his chest, finger trailing slowly towards his waist. Still working, it seemed. "Maybe it can wait until tonight?"
He shook his head. "Not this time, luv. I don't much like t'refuse a summons when I've already been paid a retainer."
She shrugged, indifferent. "You could always pay it back. Find some other work later. Relax for today, perhaps. A day of rest... yes. Rest and... other things." Her smile remained, unwavering. Even with her disfigured eye, she was still practiced enough for it to send his blood rushing, hot under all that armour as she leaned closer, hand reaching to stroke the thick beard at his chin.
He glanced to her at a time, tempted, but then he shook off the heat and pounding in his ears as he stepped away, reaching for the two handed sabre by the door, fingers working to tie the sword belt around his waist. When he was done, he turned, offering the woman a shrug of his own. "You'll still be 'ere when I get back. We can get back to enjoyin' ourselves then, aye?"
Ella's smile vanished, and she stepped back, hugging her shoulders. "What is it, then? What sort of... job?"
He sighed. "Y'know I don't like talkin' about my bloody work t'others who ain't involved."
Her hands lowered to her sides, her shoulders rolling into a lazy shrug. "Fine." She turned away, slipping back onto the bed to glance out window, much like she often did when she tried to hide hurt by avoiding those around her.
He slipped on fingerless gloves, watching her retreat. Silence filled the room for a time, before it was interrupted with the gentle chime of shillings that he lowered onto the bed beside her.
"It's dangerous work, is all. Least, it might be. See, dangerous men I know. Dangerous men I can 'andle. Monsters I can 'anlde, too. I can 'andle them lot just bloody fine. But this? This is summat else."
"What else?" she asked gently. "Please... Tell me."
He stared at her for a time, and there was a caution in his eyes, a caution hidden behind the veil of overconfidence he so often carried.
"Demons," he uttered.
* * * *
There were only a few places he knew he might find her. She was like a wandering albatross, or a lost child. One of the two or both.. an oddity among a town of oddities. Twilight shone in the summer night, the moon a pale orange. Trees of spruce and maple stood tall in the small grove south of the inn, and he glanced about, one hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. He hadn't found her in the stables, nor by the small fountain he'd seen sitting by once, laughing with some children. He supposed he might find her here, but he wasn't sure -- he'd been gone for almost two weeks without so much as a word of leave. Where she might have resided during that time was anybody's guess. He looked up to the trees, between thick tall branches, but there was a thin fog rising from the humid morning dew. He needed answers -- perhaps even help, though he would be the last to admit that particular need to anyone, even her.
"Nova..."
His beckon was firm enough. He'd used her name for starters, not the moniker he often gave her, and there was impatience in his overtones -- he didn't have a lot of time left before he might be considered to be running late, and for all the man's transgressions he often tried to be punctual.
She was either here and she would answer, or she wasn't here, and he'd be caught out standing around like a bloody idiot talking to a bunch of trees.