He would have joined her, she had little doubt about that, but she did not wish it. For there were times she was fiercely independent, guarded, and this was one such time.
The room was dark save three bronze lattice lanterns scattered around, casting shadows and queer patterns upon the damp, plaster walls and silks edged in gold. The smell, a heady mixture of pipeweed, incense and sweat. Tendrils of smoke rose from a small bowl upon the table, the smell sickeningly sweet. She denied the offer of wine, the roasted goat meat, and the lecherous looks from his guard. They spoke a long while, pleasantries regarding health, family and even the weather were exchanged before the crux of their meeting, why he had not been able to provide what she had ordered. His fingers danced in gestures as he spoke, his accent thick, the rings upon his hand clashing against one another at times, but always showing his wealth. Irritated by his words yet maintaining a sense of decorum, she allowed his excuses, his promise to deliver her order tenfolde should it be desired. She had coin, and that was -his- desire. The potential loss he felt at that she might find a new supplier, urged him to sweeten his offer, to which he pressed a pouch into her hand. Taking it, she also took her leave, the guard opening the door, their business concluded for the time being.
Her clothes smelled of deceit, of bitterness, of the resin that was burnt. Her bath however smelled of rose and lavender, something to calm, to restore the mind and in turn arouse the senses of those who she would allow near enough to her.
She allowed one close to her. A man whose story she was unraveling, like pulling the end of yarn upon a blanket. Though unlike the blanket, she did not wish to be his undoing. She had warned him, in dribs and drabs, of what had occurred and what presently does in her life, even though he would not know the full extent. In turn, he surprised her, for he who seemed to be a simple trader was not so terribly different from herself. Illicit dealings with foul company, a shared likeness for comfort and the finer things, a sense of humor. A bauble on his arm she would jest, something pretty to flaunt then discard for something new, yet he vehemently denied her words. The guarded woman, slowly revealing more to him regarding hopes, dreams, her past and her present. He desired her, seemingly her company, to protect her, to be one with her in matters of life, love and business, and she considered this. It was a new venture, and the last few had been pitiful. She could humor her brother, return to his camp, allow one of the three men he had chosen to claim her, or, she could be brave and allow this man to know her, her life, her ways. For now, she would be brave. A brave bauble upon the arm of another.
