BLAZE IT [OPEN]

every night,

— i dream you're still here —

✧ so perfectly clear

[attr="class","scrolls"]The trouble with going into business on your own was that to go along with the fluctuating workflow, the shitty hours and the nonsensical clients who decided they were satisfied with the price for product, there was also the less than desirable grunt work that demanded just as much attention as everything else. And in spite of the fact that he was well off financially (as well off as a whore can be I guess) and could afford to hire some illiterate underling to carry out these tedious but essential tasks, Hessat wasn’t quite comfortable with people.

Alright, that was an outrageous lie. He spread his legs for a living, no two ways about it, being comfortable wasn’t even a factor anymore. No, what he didn’t do, didn’t know how to do, was trust anyone with anything he could rightly call his own. That or those who were proficient in his particular line of work were characters shadier than he – yes, it was possible – or was comfortably employed by the competition.

No, it sufficed to say he was all together too paranoid to trust anyone else with the handling of his money or the valuable merchandise that was in such short supply. Plus, why pay someone to do a job he could do himself?

Hessat rolled his shoulders and grimaced at the weight of his thick cotton cloak. Hessat wasn’t wearing his usual today; a fact that his body seemed confused about despite how much better his current ensemble battled the cold in comparison. He was so used to not wearing much of anything that when he did need to, he felt restricted. Gone was his cropped top and voluminous pants, his arms naked without the golden bands he tended to wear and all over just not looking much like the courtesan who stalked the lavish halls of the Saint’s Pleasure. His skin itched from the feeling of confinement but he bore through the awkward arrangement so that man and merchandise could reach their destination.

Bitching aside, today’s schedule wasn’t really anything to complain about. His workload has lessened considerably as of late – namely because he didn’t much want to leave the comforts of home to lurk in alleys for these trashy addicts he’d created. As the days grew ever colder with winter rushing from the north, Hessat found his desire to travel beyond the front door plummeting harshly. He wouldn’t be undertaking any non-critical expeditions with the season threatening to break, which left him somewhat stranded. He didn’t mind really but he could tell some of the other whores were getting aggravated with his more consistent presence and growing demands.

But this was his last stop today, all other matters had been seen to by order of priority and he was pleased with himself for managing his affairs with his standard precision and efficiency. And once he was done? Well, there had to be somewhere he could go for a good drink and if memory served him right there were still a few guys sore enough about their last poker game willing to entertain his whims after a fresh round of alcohol.

Hessat was greeted by the scent of the open ocean as he sauntered about the docks in search of his usual suspects. The pier was bustling with its usual business, forcing him to entertain some of the socially required pleasantries of ‘hellos & goodbyes’ between himself and straggling workers. He quickly selected an abandoned set of pallets to sit on, drawing the ends of his cloak around him and setting his tote in his lap to wait. Even through the aged leather he could smell the tobacco inside but that was perfectly alright, the scent hid the more sinister of his recreational drugs.

As far as Hessat was aware, he was the only one to manufacture Seraj and Heraji, his two preferred narcotics when it came to his other job and both fetched him quite a lot. His contact today had wanted them, for what he didn't much care, but there had been mentions of a higher buyout, which had him naturally intrigued. Hopefully it would all be worth his while.

— template made by roar —