[ The only place in the whole fucking town with rooms to spare is the brothel, and damned if Fjord is going to sleep in the street only to get mugged or stabbed or worse, so he sucks up his courage and steps through the rain-soaked curtains behind the open front door. It's a chilly and unpleasant night, the rain hasn't let up since yesterday, and the parlour of the brothel is ... surprisingly, reasonably clean minus the muddy boot-prints leading up the staircase. Fjord spends some time explaining (and apologising) at the front desk where he agrees to pay extra for the trouble of occupying one of their beds until morning, dripping on the rugs imported from the coast and gaining curious looks from the bannister overhead where women (and some men) are growing invested in the tale of the man who just wants to rent a room, not one of them.
He glances up and catches the eye of a pretty woman (beautiful, on second-glance a moment later) with pink hair the colour of flower-petals and tanned skin, pointy ears ... and judging by the near-sheer chemise she wears, stacked with curves. His attention is dragged back to the clerk as they finish totalling up how much gold he owes, and when he looks back up at the balcony that shields the bedrooms he's disappointed to see the hooker is gone.
He pays the disgruntled clerk all the same, shrugging when asked which room he wants. ]
( mortal ditey dnd au )
He glances up and catches the eye of a pretty woman (beautiful, on second-glance a moment later) with pink hair the colour of flower-petals and tanned skin, pointy ears ... and judging by the near-sheer chemise she wears, stacked with curves. His attention is dragged back to the clerk as they finish totalling up how much gold he owes, and when he looks back up at the balcony that shields the bedrooms he's disappointed to see the hooker is gone.
He pays the disgruntled clerk all the same, shrugging when asked which room he wants. ]
I, ah ... one with a soft bed?