Ruth was going to end his day as it began, riding a fair and familiar beast.
He’d grin to himself, the beast who he’d ride into unconscious bliss though, was far sweeter than the mount underneath him. Ruth didn’t particularly like horses, but they were often faster means when eluvian’s were far between. Plus, it meant he could stop by a particular haunt he hadn’t dipped into in… oh, too many a moon for his liking.
They’d met during his early visits to the City of Chains, back before the big boom and life got more complicated and erratic. Still, Ruth tried to make a point of visiting the Back Water when he could, and after dropping off a weirded out Grim and having to return and resupply a treat was in order. That being a good two days in bed with a woman who understood how to get his rocks off. Little hussy had a mouth, and he’d be sure to make use of it after reminding her exactly why his nights went uncharged. Was he the only one, probably not, but Ruth would never ask. His time with Willie belonged to him, even if the nimble fingered Coterie whelp lingered on the outskirts, waiting and hoping the lass on his arm would at last, notice him.
Colt was just another amusement and like the bastard he was, Ruth took enjoyment in the man’s long suffering crush on little wee Mina. If only he knew just how much of a vixen his little treasure was, it could make any man blush. She could do, and do anyone, as she pleased, but it was always his bed she seemed to end up in. It inflated his ego into heights that more sober friends would caution, but none of them were here to stem or redirect his impulses. Horse secured, Ruth would linger in the stables a moment, indulging himself in a little party favour before descending on the willing Willie.
Finding a bench, his hand pulled a small leather bound bundle from an inside pocket, tossing it down onto the surface to unfurl a rectangular box. The contents were a narrow vial of lyrium dust, a blade and a fine reed, each item he took out in turn, arranged and using the straw took a bump. In a practised motion the box was carefully wrapped and returned to its place, the healer shaking his head as a ghostly rush ran through him.
Boasting a new skip in his step, Ruth swaggered his way through the doors, hands deep in his pockets. He paused just in the doorway, canvasing the joint before landing on the little minx. Stirring a pot now less. Ruth scoffed, “What’s this, actual food? And here I thought the only meal you provided was the sup between your lips.”
He’d grin to himself, the beast who he’d ride into unconscious bliss though, was far sweeter than the mount underneath him. Ruth didn’t particularly like horses, but they were often faster means when eluvian’s were far between. Plus, it meant he could stop by a particular haunt he hadn’t dipped into in… oh, too many a moon for his liking.
They’d met during his early visits to the City of Chains, back before the big boom and life got more complicated and erratic. Still, Ruth tried to make a point of visiting the Back Water when he could, and after dropping off a weirded out Grim and having to return and resupply a treat was in order. That being a good two days in bed with a woman who understood how to get his rocks off. Little hussy had a mouth, and he’d be sure to make use of it after reminding her exactly why his nights went uncharged. Was he the only one, probably not, but Ruth would never ask. His time with Willie belonged to him, even if the nimble fingered Coterie whelp lingered on the outskirts, waiting and hoping the lass on his arm would at last, notice him.
Colt was just another amusement and like the bastard he was, Ruth took enjoyment in the man’s long suffering crush on little wee Mina. If only he knew just how much of a vixen his little treasure was, it could make any man blush. She could do, and do anyone, as she pleased, but it was always his bed she seemed to end up in. It inflated his ego into heights that more sober friends would caution, but none of them were here to stem or redirect his impulses. Horse secured, Ruth would linger in the stables a moment, indulging himself in a little party favour before descending on the willing Willie.
Finding a bench, his hand pulled a small leather bound bundle from an inside pocket, tossing it down onto the surface to unfurl a rectangular box. The contents were a narrow vial of lyrium dust, a blade and a fine reed, each item he took out in turn, arranged and using the straw took a bump. In a practised motion the box was carefully wrapped and returned to its place, the healer shaking his head as a ghostly rush ran through him.
Boasting a new skip in his step, Ruth swaggered his way through the doors, hands deep in his pockets. He paused just in the doorway, canvasing the joint before landing on the little minx. Stirring a pot now less. Ruth scoffed, “What’s this, actual food? And here I thought the only meal you provided was the sup between your lips.”
01-24-2024, 01:45 PM
