Post by Lira Bashal on Mar 16, 2022 15:18:52 GMT
Dusk was just sweeping across the sky as Lira strolled down the streets of Caralain, the dark behemoth that was the Black Tower outlined in the golden light of the setting sun. Lanterns sprang to life seemingly of their own accord, the work of Soldiers in their crisp black coats who patrolled in pairs. Ahead, a wooden sign swung in the breeze. Lira's eyes assessed the building shrewdly before nodding to herself and stepping inside. The inn's interior matched her expectations. A large common room open to the rafters two stories above, stairs to the right leading up to the second level walkway and the rentable rooms on three sides. The walkway had a sturdy rail, but was otherwise open to the tavern below. There was even a stage, if somewhat small for her preferences.
Hefting the bag she had slung over one should, Lira wove her way between patrons to the stairs. Once on the second level, she eyed one of the supporting posts, mentally tracing it to the rafter it supported and the proximity of said rafter to the stage below. Satisfied, she hoisted herself up to the top of the railing and began shimming up the post. Before she'd reached the crossbeam, the innkeeper had noticed her. His loose-jowled face progressed through various shades of crimson and purple as he began waving his hands at her, shouting that she wasn't allowed up there, to get down, and a number of other things that she flatly ignored.
"You can thank me later!" She sing-songed back while balancing her way to the middle of the beam. With quick, practiced movements, she pulled out a length of silk that looped back on itself a few feet above the stage before tying both ends in a series of elaborate knots around the support. By now the inn keeper had rallied his thickly muscled doorman. Judging by his gestures, he was telling the ox of a man to climb up after her, frankly, a terrible idea. Naturally, every eye in the place was drawn to the spectacle, every patron holding their breath, waiting to see if she would fall to her doom.
"Okay, okay, okay, you want me to get down?" Lira grinned as she tossed back her cloak, making the patches that had been hidden on the inner lining until now flutter like dozens of butterflies. She unhooked it, letting the tell-tale mark of her trade cascade from her fingers to the wooden boards below. The clothing she wore beneath clung tightly to every curve and her feet were bare.
"Alright, I'll get down!" She winked, and stepped backwards off the beam into the open air. A collective gasp went up from all those watching, but rather than plummeting to a death much too messy for someone as lovely as she, hands grasped at the length of silk, expertly wrapping around wrist, ankle, and thigh, causing her to float dance-like to a sudden stop several feet above the stage. Cheers erupted from the onlookers and Lira flourished a hand dramatically in the air.
"Well, what do you think? Did you like what you saw?" The cheers intensified, which much banging of hands and mugs on tables and no few comments about exactly what parts of her they liked. Lira lowered herself into the end of the looped silk, letting it cradle her like a swing, and gave a little seductive smile and a wink to the crowd.
"Would you like to see moooore?" Hoots and howls and many more lewd comments. Lira eyed the innkeeper meaningfully. His flabby face looked like a shriveled up beet root, but he nodded, holding up fingers to indicate his offer of payment. Lira smiled chidingly and waved a hand at the frenzied crowd, then held up her own fingers, indicating twice as much. His complexion went from beet to eggplant, but after a long look at the crowd, no doubt envisioning not only what he'd bring in if she performed, but what such a group would do if she didn't, he nodded again, the pain of the acquiescence obvious. She smiled and turned her attention back to her audience, noting a number of crisp black coats with and without the enameled pins on collars. She had the perfect number...
Hefting the bag she had slung over one should, Lira wove her way between patrons to the stairs. Once on the second level, she eyed one of the supporting posts, mentally tracing it to the rafter it supported and the proximity of said rafter to the stage below. Satisfied, she hoisted herself up to the top of the railing and began shimming up the post. Before she'd reached the crossbeam, the innkeeper had noticed her. His loose-jowled face progressed through various shades of crimson and purple as he began waving his hands at her, shouting that she wasn't allowed up there, to get down, and a number of other things that she flatly ignored.
"You can thank me later!" She sing-songed back while balancing her way to the middle of the beam. With quick, practiced movements, she pulled out a length of silk that looped back on itself a few feet above the stage before tying both ends in a series of elaborate knots around the support. By now the inn keeper had rallied his thickly muscled doorman. Judging by his gestures, he was telling the ox of a man to climb up after her, frankly, a terrible idea. Naturally, every eye in the place was drawn to the spectacle, every patron holding their breath, waiting to see if she would fall to her doom.
"Okay, okay, okay, you want me to get down?" Lira grinned as she tossed back her cloak, making the patches that had been hidden on the inner lining until now flutter like dozens of butterflies. She unhooked it, letting the tell-tale mark of her trade cascade from her fingers to the wooden boards below. The clothing she wore beneath clung tightly to every curve and her feet were bare.
"Alright, I'll get down!" She winked, and stepped backwards off the beam into the open air. A collective gasp went up from all those watching, but rather than plummeting to a death much too messy for someone as lovely as she, hands grasped at the length of silk, expertly wrapping around wrist, ankle, and thigh, causing her to float dance-like to a sudden stop several feet above the stage. Cheers erupted from the onlookers and Lira flourished a hand dramatically in the air.
"Well, what do you think? Did you like what you saw?" The cheers intensified, which much banging of hands and mugs on tables and no few comments about exactly what parts of her they liked. Lira lowered herself into the end of the looped silk, letting it cradle her like a swing, and gave a little seductive smile and a wink to the crowd.
"Would you like to see moooore?" Hoots and howls and many more lewd comments. Lira eyed the innkeeper meaningfully. His flabby face looked like a shriveled up beet root, but he nodded, holding up fingers to indicate his offer of payment. Lira smiled chidingly and waved a hand at the frenzied crowd, then held up her own fingers, indicating twice as much. His complexion went from beet to eggplant, but after a long look at the crowd, no doubt envisioning not only what he'd bring in if she performed, but what such a group would do if she didn't, he nodded again, the pain of the acquiescence obvious. She smiled and turned her attention back to her audience, noting a number of crisp black coats with and without the enameled pins on collars. She had the perfect number...
