Chapter Six: Drawings
Mistress Kiara, Vally, Jasmine, Hailey, Zena, Lily, and Lilith were all too stunned to even speak. Their gaze glued to the Fae men about to take over their home.
Any Mortal customers that hung around because of the late hours scurried out the door the second trouble stepped into the place.
Trouble being Bolt, Oberon, and The General. Their pores reeked of it, and their scowls didn't help ease the matter any.
Oberon shot smirks towards the twins, setting his eyes upon them, drinking them in. Lily and Lilth blushed profoundly, he had caused two harlots to blush.
He was edged between confident and cocky. Either way, his 'charm' worked on them as they giggled amongst themselves over an inside joke.
Bolt gripped my elbow and tossed me rather rough in front of the Mistress. "Found something of yours by the creek."
He was skeptical, thinking I had lied to him about actually renting a room with silver. Why he cared was beyond me.
"Miss Ayumu does not offer services." She looked me over from head to toe making special notice of the man's shirt that covered me up.
Her eyes gleamed with a newfound hatred. "Did you touch her?"
Those golden brown orbs assessed the men with a mother's wrath laid bare in front of them. "So help me, Jasmine get my bat!"
The girl with dark-hue skin fidgeted in place but didn't follow the orders. She knew that bat wouldn't do any harm to the beings in front of us.
I grab Mistress's shoulders and shook her gently. "No, Kiara. They didn't. He gave me his shirt because ants had taken over my gown."
Relief flooded her and she took in a greedy breath of rose perfume-filled air. "Thank you." She beames up at the warriors, hatred replaced with gratitude. "She may be filled out but she isn't in the business gentlemen. This one's going places." She points up at the unfazed Fae her long finger warning them to leave me be.
All of the women here were older than me by at least seven years.
Maybe that is where the protectiveness came from, trying to prevent me from making the same mistakes they had. These mistakes led them to entertain men for a living.
"We're quartering here," Oberon announced causing all of the women to look between each other for answers that none of them seemed to have.
"They are staying here for their time in Ouiswell." I fill them in. "It's a law. When warriors seek refuge, you are obligated to offer your home and food to them."
The whispers grew louder.
Where will they sleep?
Do you mean those fine Fae? Staying here?
Why?
The last question I heard seemed the most reasonable considering Bolt made the point that the queen would have offered them refuge in the castle.
Oberon seems content with himself as he takes in the uncomfortable look on his companion's face.
"There are only so many rooms." Mistress Kiara explains. "Each room holding two girls, except for Ayumu's attic."
"I'll be content to take one of their rooms, Madam." Oberon licked his lips looking thirstier than a man that had been locked in a dungeon for days. "I'll pay, of course."
Mistress nods towards the twins, excusing them to escort Oberon to their room where they were sure to cause quite the racket tonight, how lovely.
"I wouldn't mind." Bolt steps forward, his resolve falling through.
They had probably been busy fighting whatever upcoming war Professor Pine had mentioned.
No woman in sight.
Zena and Hailey escort him to their chambers. Leaving The General eying the woman left skeptically. "I'll take your floor. Considering you are the only one in this house not thinking about sex."
His statement was addressed to me.
Kiara eyed me eerily but I nodded away her worries. The horses walked themselves to the shed next to the house, the general using some form of magic to settle them in for the night without even having to tie them up.
They were so tall their backs only misses the roof of the small shed by an inch.
"Follow me."
With each step onto the stairs, the old wood creaked with our weight. My mind absently wondered how much longer would this place be standing. The stone structure was good but the wood was nearly rotten. The place didn't bring in enough income to replace any of it.
When I open my bedroom door, I gasp out loud at my ability to forget so easily.
My sketches were still scattered all over the floor, from where I had been brainstorming the meaning of the visions before my departure for my bath.
The black charcoal drawing seemed to stare holes into me, the nightmares I have been having specifically the terrified little boy.
The General's presence was one I couldn't ignore while I crouched down on the sandy floor, the grains digging into my skin, scooping up the drawn-on papers, handfuls at a time. These were my inner thoughts and the mere idea of another person seeing them set me reeling.
I had drew so much over the last week that one of the three pencils The Warlord traded me was nearing the end. I could barely grasp the wood anymore, the things cost too much for me to waste even a centimeter. The plans were to use it until it was gone entirely before I even started drawing with the other ones, it made the art sloppy but still recognizable.
The last paper laying on the floor was snatched up by The General before I could get my hands on it.
"Hey! These are personal!" He studies it seems to travel back in time for a moment.
His usually stone-cold face morphed into one of denial and confusion. The expression not sitting right in the pit of my stomach.
"Yeah." He paused looking between the drawing and me.
"They are. Considering I'm staring at myself." He turned it to face me and it was the little boy busy haunting my nightmares, his face filled with terror as he spouts blue electric magic from his palms.
"T- This is you?" I reach for it yanking it free from his grasp.
He was alive?
How was that even possible?
What did this all mean?
Why did he matter?
"Yes. On a night no one knows about but the high gods themselves." In a daze of confusion, I spread out the relative drawings all over my bed. They crinkle on the uneven surface but I couldn't bring myself to care at the moment.
The monster...
His mother...
It all stared back at him catching him completely off guard. The far-off glance make his eyes appear vacant, he was taken back to a time he would rather forget. It was my fault these terrible memories were dancing around in his eyes like flames spreading up his body and taking over his mind. Essentially burning him up inside. The look was all too familiar, it was the same look I held on my face when I thought of my childhood. My fathers 'tough' love would be too rough at times. When I think back to those memories darkness spreads through my body and it numbs me.
"How did you know about this? This happened before your grandparents were even born."
"I'm a teller." It wasn't something I was inclined on letting people in on, but this situation seemed kind of unavoidable. There was no explanation as to why I would know these things about his childhood. "I get uh these v-visions. Normally they come and go but this one has stayed in my head for days. Haunting me in my sleep." Our gazes connect and we share a moment of realization. He too had these awful nightmares, it was a moment of recognition in each other. He knew that I had seen everything. Murky green lakes connecting with the blue ocean, forming into one and making their own body of water, our eyes spoke to each other using their own free will.
"There is only one thing that connects all of my visions. The person always dies. H-how are you alive?"
I tumbled and tripped over each word, this was the first time I found the courage to speak with someone about the deaths in my visions.
"A mortal teller?" He avoided my question with one of his own.
"The Mortal Teller." I corrected him. "I'm the only one alive."
"And your living in a brothel?" It came out harsher than I think he meant it to, his deep voice making everything he says sound like an accusation or punishment.
"It's a long story." I gather the bits and pieces of his life feeling almost like I was touching something that didn't belong to me.
"Here." I hand him the drawing of the woman that sang those sweet lullabies. "She meant a lot to you. I could feel it."
He takes the paper and stares at it for a long period just soaking in the woman's features. So long that I decide to lay down for the night.
I could hear him settling down onto the floor. Blankets rustled around and his armor rattled as he took it off. "Thank you. I haven't seen her face since that night."
"You're welcome."