There were vultures circling the sky that day and a stink that permeated the air in the rising heat of the afternoon. Decay bloomed too fresh, attracting a swarm of flies that buzzed, much like the carrion birds, around the heap of bodies tossed into a pile of limbs and dead eyes to be picked up in the morning by the cart that came by on a weekly basis. Like trash, the dead waited to be collected, and not far enough outside line of sight from the living. It was the way of the world now, just like the pavilions set up to the east of the town of traders that came to hawk their junk to anyone who could be suckered to trade their precious marks for a trinket from a long forgotten past. There were other things that were there to be seen in the make shift market that stayed for a month before leaving to try their luck elsewhere, perhaps in a more populated settlement than Eon.<br/><br/>Flesh trade was what they were known for here. Located at a crossroads between cities, the powers of each met here to trade and conduct business. It was why the marketplace conducted its own form of peddling there. Now it was lined with a steam powered caravan of cages filled with a special assortment of pets, or human labor, or even exotic beasts. It also contributed to the high body count of the season. Sometimes, the flesh trade had a high mortality rate. Even now there was a man foreign to these parts who had his hand fisted in a young woman's long dark hair as he yanked on the rough hewn rope he had tied around her wrists as she struggled to pull away. Her scream pierced the open air of the street that cut through the main part of town. Despite the hustle and bustle, not a single head turned to heed her cry that ended in a warbled whimper as the back of his hand struck her cheek, sending her reeling down onto her knees in front of him. She choked on her sob as he yanked her back up by the hair to haul her back to the wagon she had lept from to shove her roughly into the back with another string of men and women who waited for their fate.<br/><br/>The saloon that headed the end of the main road was a highlight of Eon; it attracted the most travelers, tourists, and locals of the town for the quality to price it catered to. The passerby did not have to be rolling in marks to be able to stay for a night. Nor did he have to be slathered in gold to enjoy one of the girls – or even young men – that offered themselves in exchange for marks. It was quiet inside except for a handful of regulars seated at the bar, beer served in mugs as they spoke in hushed voices. Occasionally, someone's sights would drift to the woman who came by to refill their drinks, a saucy smile on her painted red lips as she leaned her breasts forward to pour so that they spilled from the corset wrapped snug around her waist. But the first floor was only to set the scene; the bar to give the illusion that it was all it was with its divey atmosphere, though a few of the girls still lingered near the banister that led upstairs. Free advertising to the already known establishment.<br/><br/>They had rooms upstairs, but not before it opened up into a guest area. A second bar greeted the eye to the right, where a flash of blonde braids dangled over the bare shoulders of a plump lipped young woman who offered a delicate glass of something pink to a man who had dumped a pile of his marks on the cherry wood in front of her. His eyes had dropped to the sheer silk of her blouse that outlined the gold rings pierced through her nipples expectantly. She bantered with him there while another woman had her hand wrapped around the growing bulge in another man's trousers in one corner of the area. Only she gripped him tight, almost painfully, with her nails raking down the side of his face and her tongue snaking against his cheek, which were flushed with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The leggy brunette who toyed with him was the Madame herself, a woman known as Minx and nothing else. While she was in charge of controlling the atmosphere, she was doing nothing to stop what was happening on one of the plush couches littering the common area.<br/><br/>The woman's nails sifted through the man's short cropped blond hair having toppled the hat he had been wearing on his head to the floor behind the couch. The sound of her moans drowned out the sound of the jukebox that played against the wall. Oblivious to the rest of the world, she had straddled his lap on the couch. Long, tussled blonde curls rolled down her back in waves as she tossed her head back in ecstasy as his mouth plucked the rose tipped nipple he had freed from the blouse of her dress. His hand had also hitched her skirts up over her waist so that his hands could grip her naked bottom. She rocked against him wantonly, riding the hard muscle that plunged between her thighs with vigorous thrusts.<br/><br/>“I think he might make her one of his wives soon. He usually does when he fucks his favorites out here in public. I think he's trying to mark his territory doing it this way. Like he knows he's going to claim them permanently. I mean, he's been working him for whatever he's worth so that he does pick her to be his wife. Then that'll make.. five now? Jeyr is a good man, so I don't blame her. He takes care of his women.”<br/><br/>Liquid dark eyes turned to the red head that spoke, bemused as they watched the show from across the way. Erol Fain Navarre had her back against the wallpaper near the jukebox, one heeled boot struck up against the wall to support her whippish weight against the wall. With languid grace, she had her hips pivoted forward and her head cocked at the spectacle. Pinstripes crawled up her legs to make them appear longer, disappearing up the skirt whose front came down to her mid thigh and left the back to drift behind her like an ebony and scarlet tale sweeping the ground. The garter was pulled to the front, dragging the eye to the patch of creamy skin she left exposed to the naked eye before the skirt and leggings covered the rest. Her partner in crime wore far less, and preferred to have gold etched onto her tanned, bare skin that marked her status. She was open to far more than most of the men and women here.<br/><br/>“Do you think she's faking those noises?” Erol's companion, Myrrh, whispered with a grin splitting her dark ruby lips. “Or do you think she's enjoying the fuck out in the open like this?”<br/><br/>Erol grinned her own amusement and was ready to speak up again when the familiar chime of the door brought her attention back around to the ornate banister of the stairwell. A new customer. She pushed herself up and away from the wall to step up to the wooden rail, arms folded in front of her as she turned her attention down below to the first floor to catch sight of the newest customer.<br/><br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="691" data-username="@Impious Ira" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/691/">@Impious Ira</a>