city [M]

Marked [M] for sexual innuendo throughout the thread (thanks Bal xD)

The path, and the place, he knew well. The man's pale paws walked the precarious cliffside trail with ease and without thought. He'd walked it so many times, he didn't even have to consider paw-placement on the treacherous trail. He grew up here, after all. As a child he had flitted between the legs of the customers, did petty work for the bartender for a fermented berry he wasn't supposed to have, pick-pocketed drunk patrons, and watched as the commonfolk and ruffians drank alike. He had loved this place as a child -- and he loved it now still. Only now, he got to participate in all the tomfoolery the place offered. He approached the bartender and ordered a hefty draft of fermented berries, and sat down to wait. His eyes roved the crowds, and got stuck on one wolf in particular. It was a pale man whose pelt was very clean to be sitting amongst the dirt and grime. He also looked rather miserable. Balfour liked to pride himself on picking those who belonged here, and those who didn't. And that man there -- that man did not belong here. The boy rose to his paws and strode over to him. "My my, look at you, he said as he took a seat next to him along the bar made of stone. " If you're not the saddest sack I've ever seen in here, I'll eat my own tail." His blue eyes appraised the former-soldier. "If you're not careful, someone else is gonna notice you don't belong here-- and they'll probably do more with you than offer you a drink," he said, and motioned to the bartender to add another to his tab. He wasn't quite sure why he was befriending the sullen-looking-out-of-place-man, other than he was bored and he was interested in something new. The fermented berry concoctions arrived in front of them: one in a broken-looking clay bowl and the other in a kind of leafy container. Inside were crushed berries, water, and other various special ingredients to create an alcoholic drink to die for. Balfour grinned. "Every bartender adds his own flare. This one adds honey," he said and quite unapologetically drank down a large gulp.

ART ➤ snow-body

@Argent

LA.
fall on your sword...

Today was not a good day. Misery loved company which was why he entered this seedy establishment in the first place. He'd had drinks before when he was off duty, not here of course, but places like it with his army comrades before he retired. Argent's sharp grey eyes observed his surroundings, very aware of the potential criminal activity going on around him. It was a den of thieves and he did not belong here. Once upon a time it would have been his business, his duty to enforce the law, but he was no longer fit for service. He rested a large grey paw upon the bar and shifted restlessly. The sooner he knocked back a few drinks the sooner he could stop caring for a little while.

He enjoyed the quiet company of others around him and minded his own business while he waited for his drink to arrive. Until a voice piped up, one that was obviously intent on his company.

"My my, look at you," he turned his head, eyes narrowing in anticipation of some insult and as expected his unwanted companion delivered. "If you're not the saddest sack I've ever seen in here, I'll eat my own tail."

Argent's grey brow furrowed into a scowl, ears pricking in irritation. "Tch," he clicked his tongue and turned away. "Sod off."

He whipped around again when the lad continued. "If you're not careful, someone else is gonna notice you don't belong here-- and they'll probably do more with you than offer you a drink."

Why was the lad warning him? The veteran eyed him suspiciously, wondering if the lad was scoping him out as a potential target for his criminal friends. Argent had already done a risk assessment and scoped out the exits. There were a couple wolves giving him the evil eye, some had even winked at him which was enough to make him suspicious. "I'll survive," he retorted dryly. He had faced the frontlines of the war and come away crippled, but he was still alive.

The drinks finally arrived much to Argent's relief. He didn't lap at the mixture right away, instead he examined it closely. His sullen face was reflected back at him, swirling in the dark depths of the alcohol. It irked him that the boy was right. He did look like a sad sack. Taking in a deep breath he sniffed at his drink until he was satisfied there were no nasty surprises mixed in. Tentatively he lapped at it and was surprised by how much he enjoyed the flavour. For the first time his features shifted from a scowl into one of contentment.

"Not bad," he commented. The moment passed and his scowl returned, gaze returning to the lad who was gulping down his own drink.

"What do you want?" he questioned the lad, suspicious that he wanted more than just to mess with him.

code by claerie

His presence wasn't necessarily well-received. The not-belonging man tched his tongue and told him to "Sod off," which only made Balfour grin-- he liked his spirit. The boy continued on, telling him of the dangers of the crowd the man found himself in-- and he was entirely unimpressed and unsurprised. "I'll survive," he assured him. A well-respected wolf would've seen this as an opportunity to take his leave, to leave the stranger respectfully alone. But Bal had never really been all that well-respected, and so he stuck around. The drinks arrived and Balfour didn't hesitate to take a long swig. Still relishing the flavor on his tongue, he glanced over to the man who was simply staring down into the glass. He stared, and he sniffed it-- Balfour was quiet as he watched the procession. And finally the stranger drank. "Not bad," he admitted, and the pleasure reflected in his expression. The boy grinned in some misplaced sense of pride. And then the man's attention turned back onto him: "What do you want?" Balfour blinked. "Want?" he echoed with a widening of his gaze, and for a moment he truly did seem at a loss for words. But then his grin slid back onto his features and he let out a light laugh. "I don't want anything from you," he admitted. He took another long drink. "Though I could offer you my services, if you're into that. I don't do bottoms, and my prices are substantial." He did work in the brothel, after all. Though really, he was more of a mooch living off his mother's reputation than anything. Still, he often found clients for the other workers. "I could also find you different kind of company, if that's what suits you more. But somehow, " he gave the man another appraising look, "I don't think that's why you're here." he studied the stranger beside him. He may not belong, but he wasn't stupid. It made Bal wonder just who he was, and wonder just why he was here, so clearly out of his element and yet -- somehow in it. "I guess I want to know what you're doing here. And why you're so depressing looking." That was the truth. He'd gravitated toward the man because he was curious. The idea of stealing or truly offering services had crossed his mind, but that wasn't the true reason he had sat beside the stoic man. Truth be told, he was bored. And he wanted to know more.

ART ➤ snow-body

@Argent

LA.
fall on your sword...

The retired captain expected that the lad was merely toying with him. He was just another miserable soul that was ripe for the picking and the lad could smell it on him. It was likely that he wasn’t the only predator looking to thin the herd of lowlifes in this den of debauchery. Argent was proud enough that he didn’t consider himself one of them, but his paws were far from clean. He was a killer as most who had fought in the war were. It didn’t cause him to lose any sleep. What troubled him most was that he wasn’t a soldier anymore. His broken body denied him the right and rank that once belonged to him. He was ashamed of his weakness and that was enough to make a man need a drink. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy that drink alone.

It didn’t seem like the lad was going to leave him alone and he wasn’t drunk enough to leave so he resigned himself to his fate. He lapped at the bowl greedily this time, enjoying the sweet aftertaste of honey on his tongue. The lad claimed that he didn’t want anything from Argent, but he didn’t believe that to be the case. He hadn’t wandered over for the pleasure of his company; unless he got a kick out of hanging around with sad sacks as he’d so quaintly put it.

"Though I could offer you my services, if you're into that. I don't do bottoms, and my prices are substantial."

Argent was drinking deeply from his bowl when the words reached his ears. Shock caused him to inhale suddenly, ingesting the fermented berry drink through his windpipe and starting a coughing fit. He spat out the contents of the drink down himself, staining his white chest in berry juices. Pain blazed through his chest as his lungs expanded and irritated his broken ribs, and he braced himself against the bar to steady himself. Clearing his throat he managed to finally gather himself and respond. “That… won’t be necessary.”

With as much dignity as he could muster he tried to regain his air of quiet indifference as if the sudden proposition hadn’t flustered him.

"I guess I want to know what you're doing here. And why you're so depressing looking.

“You want to hear my sob story?” Argent asked incredulously, wondering why his story would be any more interesting than any others lurking in the bar. “I lost my job,” he admitted, giving no more than that. It would be a mistake to reveal his former occupation in a place like this.

code by claerie

He'd caused the man to choke and splutter with his rather blatant offering. Balfour's brows raised as he blinked and watched the man with a curling, amused grin. "Not the way I usually have them choking," he apologized lowly, not sure if he wanted the man to actually hear his joke lest he ignite another coughing fit. Red juice stained the stranger's pristine white pelt-- such a shame. But, Balfour reflected, he probably fit in a little more now, as he was quite the mess. "You good?" he asked, though he wasn't sure if his voice was heard as the man began to regain himself. "That... won't be necessary." he finally replied, leaning against the bar for support. Balfour gave him an unoffended shrug, "If you change your mind," he offered with a discreet wink, still grinning widely (for her knew the answer) as he took another swig of his drink. The topic turned to the stranger now. "You want to hear my sob story?" he said, almost indignant. Balfour didn't say anything, but let his eyes remain expectantly on his mead-stained face. Of course he wanted to hear his sob story-- everyone in here either told their sob stories (though usually they told it with a laugh), or told you to fuck off. There were few in-betweens, and for some reason Balfour rather enjoyed the story-folk. "I lost my job." He revealed. Balfour had enough grace to allow his grin to fade a bit. He gave a silent 'ah' before taking another lap of his drink, finishing it off. He motioned the bartender for another before looking back to the man. "Well that's shitty," he said. "But, life's shitty so it's in keeping with the tone at least." the boy added. He liked his life, but he was under no impression that life was fair or good. You just had to embrace it all-- shit and gold alike. "Want me to go piss on your boss's garden?" he offered with his grin flaring up again. Another joke, but in all seriousness he would probably do it if the man wanted him to, just for the hell of it. A soft chuckle escaped his lips and he allowed a vaguely more serious tone to settle as he blinked at him. "You liked your job, I take it?" he ventured, wondering what that was like. The man looked utterly depressed-- broken even? -- because he lost his job. It must've meant something to him, but Balfour couldn't imagine being that broken up over something so... surface as a job. There were a million other jobs. He almost opened his mouth to offer a man a job at the brothels, but he stopped himself with a silent inward grin. Instead he dipped his head in thanks to the bartender as another drink was placed in front of him. He took a sip.

ART ➤ snow-body

@Argent

LA.
fall on your sword...

Steel grey eyes squinted in a grimace, mead stained lips twitching in discomfort as he shifted his weight to ease the pressure in his chest. He didn't think he would ever get used to his injury. A bad leg he could cope with. It was predictable, manageable, and in ways less limiting. His problem was sporadic. He had days when he barely noticed it and it gave him false hope that he might be getting better. Then one day he might breathe hard enough to flex his ribs and the broken ones screamed in pain. It was hell.

The lad's low voice was picked up by his keen ears and he let out a gruff sigh, thankful that he hadn't been drinking. If the lad peppered him with any more suggestive comments he was likely to swallow his own tongue.

"You good?"

Argent looked over at the lad, surprise obvious on his features and his slackened jaw. "I.. he began, gaze dropping to his now empty bowl. "need another drink."

"If you change your mind," The lad continued to torment him, but Argent was prepared this time. The wink was met with a sour look and a scowl. He let out another sigh, wondering if by the time he was ready to leave he would have deflated entirely into a puddle of exasperation. "Bloody hell. You don't give up, do you?" he growled, but it was a weary one. The kind an old tired dog would give to a pup that pestered it.

The lad accepted his news without mocking him which made him slightly less annoying and a bit more tolerable. He found himself nodding along with his tangent about the shittiness of life, but sometimes he wondered if he deserved to complain. So many had died on the frontlines and he had returned home even though he sometimes wished he hadn't.

"Want me to go piss on your boss's garden?"

Argent's ears flicked, uncertain if he had heard him correctly. While it was not the most orthodox form of vengeance and terrible in its pettiness it earned an amused snort from the ex-soldier. There was the slightest of twitches in the corner of his mouth, but it settled back into a pensive line almost as if it never happened.

The lad asked him if he liked his job. It took him a moment to consider it. It had been his purpose for so long that he lived for it. Without it he didn't know who he was supposed to be. A sad drunk? "Hm. I was good at it," he answered, lifting a paw scratched against the stone bar. He grew silent, shoulders sinking a little lower almost low enough for his head to touch the bar.

"And you're… ah… an entertainer?" he asked, trying to find a polite way of describing the lad's occupation.

code by claerie


@Balfour

As Balfour watched him, he suspected that maybe there was more to his coughing than simply just choking on his mead. He leaned heavily against the bar, shifted uncomfortably-- was he in pain? But the boy wasn't astute enough to guess any potential injuries or causes, and the wondering of pain floated briefly in his mind before the situation settled once again. He simply made a mental note, and moved on, asking if he was good. The man glanced over at him, and then down at his now-empty bowl. "I... need another drink." he said, and Balfour renewed his grin. "Right you are," he said. "Barkeep, another for my friend," he said before looking back to the now mess-of-a-man, shaking his head theatrically and 'tsking' disappointedly, "Damn waste," he said but the grin was still true on his muzzle. The boy made sure to let him know the offer still stood, and this time he was met with pure exasperation and a dirty scowl. This didn't deflate him. "Bloody hell. You don't give up, do you?" he growled gruffly. Again, Balfour offered him an innocent shrug. "Gotta make a living," he replied unapologetically. Life was shitty. They both seemed to know this, and the stranger was subtly nodding his agreement. See, they weren't so different after all. Balfour generally found this-- at the end of the day, when you pulled away all the shit and rubble and gold, they were all, essentially, beasts of the crappy world, trying to navigate and find happiness. Some had an easier time than others. The stranger beside him seemed to be having trouble with it-- but all the same. Balfour offered to piss in his boss's garden-- and he could've sworn he saw a shadow of amusement cross the man's pale features. A snort left his mouth, and that was enough for Balfour. He grinned in a proud kind of way and took another drink-- and he vowed that if he found out this boss's identity, he would go piss in his garden regardless if he was asked to or not. "Hm. I was good at it," he responded. Balfour's brows pulled together as he stared at the man who seemed to sag and melt into the bar at the thought of it. He was good at it-- but he didn't say he liked it. Well what the hell was the point of that? If the boy had been more refined, he may have said some popular proverb like 'a blessing in disguise', but instead he said "Well that's a shit reason to cling to a job. Sounds like it's good you lost it, now you can go find something you actually like." Life was too short to spend at a job you didn't enjoy. "And you're....ah... an entertainer?" He ventured, attempting politeness. It was Balfour's turn to snort and he nearly spat out his own mead. Delight and amusement danced in his eyes as he stared at him, grin wide. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm a simple merchant's assistant," he said in mock offense. That was his cover to anyone outside of the Drunken Seagull, and when he had to act like a normal and upstanding citizen of Rionnach. Chuckling to himself as he took another large swig of drink. He was feeling quite warm now, body loosening. "Entertainer. Hah, you could say that." he said, dropping the pretenses. He wasn't sure if it was the mead or the nature of the man beside him that made him talk so candidly. "I find clients for our sex workers, generally. A lot of the time wolves come here looking, but don't know how to find us -- so I find them." This was mostly true -- that was the majority of what the boy did, and why he was able to still call the Brothels his home. But, truth be told, Balfour talked a big game -- more than anything, he did the very minimal work and slipped past the radar as much as he could. He offered his body, but truth be told -- he'd never taken part in that realm of the Brothel. If ever he had any bites on his offer, he'd give them an absurd price and tell the bossman that he'd tried but there were a bunch of cheapskates out there. Not that Balfour was against it all, or that he was above it-- his own mother taught him it was a powerful and glorious thing. But he just... hadn't yet. The boy dismissed the vague thoughts and refocused his attention on the wolf beside him. "So any idea what you'll do now?"

ART ➤ snow-body

@Argent

LA.
fall on your sword...

While drinks could be replaced Argent’s fur would require some extensive grooming to wash the stains of alcohol. It was the perfect camouflage for the moment equal parts sloppy drunk and as the lad had so eloquently put it sad sack. He eyed the berry stains, slick with honey clumping together like a waxy beard on the underside of his chin. He ran his tongue over the sticky sweet stain, trying to discreetly clean himself under the disguise of not wanting to waste a drop. It smeared over his bottom lip making him look like the unfortunate victim of a bad makeup artist. He gave up on making himself look presentable, deciding that after a few more drinks he wouldn’t care anyway and it would be a problem for future Argent to deal with.

The lad requested another drink for him, referring to him as his friend. He felt like he should protest, but couldn’t think of a good reason to. It wasn’t like he was a respectable soldier anymore. He could keep whatever company he wanted. Well wanted might be an overstatement, but he realised he hadn’t shut the lad down either. And now he was having an entire conversation with him, telling him things that he wouldn’t normally tell a complete stranger. Maybe he was drunker than he realised.

He lapped at the bowl contentedly, lifting his head to scoff at the lad when he remarked ”What a waste.” as if he hadn’t prompted Argent to wear his drink instead of ingesting it.

The lad was completely shameless and unapologetic. ”Gotta make a living,"

Argent couldn’t argue with that. Still he felt something stir in his gut, uncomfortable at the thought that the lad would have to resort to such means to earn a livelihood. He didn’t have anything against those who sold their bodies. It just wasn’t something he would ever partake in.

Well that's a shit reason to cling to a job. Sounds like it's good you lost it, now you can go find something you actually like."

He gritted his teeth, anger stirring at the lad’s flippant remarks. It was out of pure ignorance that he spoke and he didn’t know the cost that Argent had paid to earn his retirement nor how it had destroyed him emotionally. ”Nothing’s ever that simple,” he answered curtly, but he didn’t lash out at him. It wasn’t his fault that Argent was broken.

They moved on to speaking of Balfour’s work. Argent tried to be respectful in his question, but it was obvious he was awkward and out of his comfort zone. The lad played with him at first and almost succeeded in tricking him. He had an apology sitting on the tip of his tongue when the lad dropped the charade.

”I find clients for our sex workers, generally. A lot of the time wolves come here looking, but don't know how to find us -- so I find them."

He was surprisingly relieved to hear that the lad mostly worked as a greeter rather than an entertainer. He didn’t want to think about it. It made more sense why the lad had approached him. He thought Argent might be a potential client. But why he was sticking around Argent couldn’t tell. Probably to torment him some more. ”...They treat you well?” he asked, steel grey eyes watching the lad closely.

"So any idea what you'll do now?"

He lifted his drooping head, looking over at the lad thoughtfully. “Probably take some odd jobs. Find something that fits,” he answered. That was the plan and he knew it was a poor one, but it was all he had. The army might take pity on him and let him work in a non combat role, but that hurt his pride too much to even consider.

Once more he lapped greedily at his drink, enjoying the warmth that spread through his belly. It numbed the gaping hole that threatened to consume him in wretched misery. ”Argent. Name’s Argent,” he introduced himself, relieved he hadn’t slipped up and given his former rank as well.

code by claerie


@Balfour