I don't know why

The Dirty Paws, the name wasn’t exactly subtle, but then again, there was not much subtlety to brothels to begin with. It had been Lady Freyja Skarsgård of Hillerød, of all people, whom had pointed him towards this particular place. It was surprising to say the least. Honestly, he’d taken her for a bit of a prude. Of course, she knew all the ins and outs of her own city, but Asher couldn’t help but wonder if she’d actually ever set foot in this place herself. He figured she probably didn’t. Not willingly, at least.

After the fair-skinned, red-haired, young woman had left his temporary quarters, he settled down on his bed and had one of the maids bring him a couple of ales. He got a fire going, chugged down his drinks and hit the town. As usual, most of his crew was roaming the unfamiliar city, testing out its various taverns and brothels. That’s where he heard the name again. The Dirty Paws. The location received nothing but praise, excluding various rumours about the owner. Asher figured he’d have a look later on, once he was done drinking himself halfway to death. Lately, he’d been a little hesitant visiting brothels everywhere he went. Mostly because he felt like he needed to be loyal to someone for once. Not so much regarding his wife. He’d fallen in lust, or love, whatever you wanted to call it, with a mere whore from Isla de Juegas. He couldn’t help it, really. She was beautiful. Dark-haired, dark-skinned. Intelligent, kind, down to earth and sensual. She was more than he deserved, which was why his thoughts went out to her every time he emptied the last of his drink.

The tavern started running empty and loneliness caught up to him a little too quickly. He excused himself to the remainder of his crew that was still drinking, going strong. Unfortunately, Lady Freyja had not informed him about the actual location of the Dirty Paws. Combined with his slight intoxication, it took him a while to actually get there. However, once he'd gotten there, he had no doubt in his mind that this was the right place. The brothel seemed more alive than the whole town of Hillerød combined. He opened the doors, was greeted by warmth, the smell of liquor and the sounds of euphoric people. It was like he stepped into a whole other world. His vision was rather faded, but he had no trouble making out the shapes of various men and women. Fair-haired women straddling strangers, laughter, drunken yelling. The overwhelming smell of women's perfume. It was almost like he was back home for a second.

& Hati

For a second, he forgot about everything. He forgot about his wife, about his daughter, who were so loyally waiting for him at the edge of the sea. He forgot about his crew, while some of them were probably in here with hem. For just a second, he even forgot about her, while all this time, he had considered such a thing to be impossible. He had full-heartedly believed she had laid some kind of curse on him. She occupied his mind, every thought, and when that was not enough, she visited him in his dreams. She was truly a plague, but an extraordinary one. One he wouldn’t want to let go of. But tonight, for some reason, she seemed so far away, so insignificant. As if the distance was truly pulling them apart.  

It was unlike anything he had dared to expect from a brothel in Hillerod. The Dirty Paws formed such a stark contrast against the grey, sober settlement. The brothel was full of life, of laughter and of music. Asher eyed the musicians for a bit, then his gaze steadily travelled towards a couple of dancing women, moving rhythmically to the unearthly sounds. A red-headed woman caught his eye for a bit. Her sleek, fiery locks trying to frame her face as best as they could, while she was moving around. He found himself thinking of Lady Freyja, wondering what she thought about these obscene things happening within her walls. She probably turned a blind eye, and it probably was for the better. In contrast to the brothels in Rhoynar, most of the people working here seemed to actually have a good time themselves. They were smiling, laughing, singing, purely intoxicated. He felt like his senses were getting overloaded from every side of the room. The music, the dim lights, the people laughing and singing, the scent of sweat and drugs. The sensation of body heat, friction. The incredible warmth of this place made him feel like his skin was on fire. Like he was running an incredible fever. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

As soon as Asher had stepped in, a pair of amber eyes had flicked towards him. A stranger approached him, and if he’d been sober, he would’ve been bothered by the predatory expression on the man’s face. He greeted him, introduced himself as Hati. “Asher,” he mumbled in his gritty voice, in lieu of an introduction. An arm was placed around him and Asher stirred with renewed awareness. He wasn’t sober enough for this. He shouldn’t be here right now. Everything around him was happening faster than he could currently fathom. He licked his lips, an unusually nervous tic. Usually, he wouldn’t appreciate strangers laying a hand on him, but right now he didn’t seem to mind. His drunk brain managed to draw the conclusion that this man was the owner of the place. Hati proclaimed he was going to make sure he would have the best night of his life, but what ensued, Asher never really expected. He frowned, sucked in a sharp breath as he placed one of his hands on Hati’s chest with the intention of pushing him away. His muscles felt weak and his breath was coming awfully slow in his chest. God, he must’ve drunk more than he thought. “What the fuck are you doing?” he murmured, in a voice like gravel. He failed to sound all that intimidating. Asher’s eyes widened when he noticed an absence of a heartbeat underneath his palm. He had never met a supernatural being before and honestly, he would have wanted to keep it that way. More words cascaded from the brothel-owner’s lips, but mild shock had caught up with Asher and he couldn’t make out much of anything at the moment. Hati pulled him with him and Asher let himself drop in one of the seats, mostly because he felt like his legs were going to give in any time now. He looked up at Hati. He wanted, no, needed to know what was going on. “What the hell are you?” His brows furrowed in an expression of honest, drunk confusion. It was a fair question, really.

Brothels were things that surpassed culture. They could be found anywhere, for anyone. He’d grown up not as well-off as he was now, and had seen his fair share of whorehouses in the shady parts of town. As time moved on, he’d travelled around, visited a broad variety of brothels situated in every big city in Fallen Skies. The buildings and the women in them all looked different, but the concept had remained roughly the same. People would do the nastiest things for you, in exchange for gold. It was a simple request. Frowned upon, even though most of the male population was a frequent visitor. Lowborn or highborn, at the end of the day, they all seemed to have the very same needs. Although he’d liked to think he was, Asher was no different. Sometimes, he’d frowned upon some of his crewmembers for drinking themselves into a stupor every single day and harassing every woman in every brothel in town. In due time, he’d found out he wasn’t all that different. It was so easy reaching for the bottle every time things got difficult. He’d started binge-drinking, sometimes on his own. It had gotten to the point that it was almost every single night. He found himself wandering off with unknown women, waking up to their crazed husband’s yelling. Things had gotten out of control and he was fully aware of it. The motivation to do something about it, however, couldn’t be found yet.

It had wrecked his marriage. He had loved Zypha dearly, once, until he didn’t. And she’d noticed. She tried to change for him. She closed her mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier. Abstained from food, let herself be drained until there was nothing left but an empty husk. She tried to make a home out of him. She’d tell him she loved him, wrapped her legs around him and asked him to pull her in. Her unfruitful efforts cascaded into a deep resentment. He started cheating on her, religiously, and he could feel that she knew. He came home in the middle of the night and lied to her. “What are you hiding?” she’d ask, as if she didn’t already know. The past and the present had merged to meet him here, into the very lair of a vampire.

Asher, like most people, wasn’t very fond of unsolicited touching. Something the owner of the brothel did not seem to care for at all. His drunkenness partially compensated for it, half the time he barely even noticed he was being touched at all. The guy chuckled and smiled like it was some kind of practical joke to him, invading the personal space of others. When Asher asked him what the hell was going on, the answer was potentially even more worrying. Honestly, he had to compliment this guy on how straightforward he was. Combined with the laid-back tone, everything seemed a little too surreal for him. “I suggest you have a change of plans, right?” he told the guy, greatly unamused. Before he could distance himself any further from the vampire, he was pulled towards one of the seats. As he sat down, he was quickly straddled by the other man. The irony wasn’t lost on him when Hati called his question rude. The younger-looking man explained he was many things, a vampire among others. Then, it was duly noted that Asher was indeed drunk, and explaining things to drunk people was a waste of time. A concept Asher was more than familiar with. For some reason, he found himself slightly scared to break eye contact with the guy on top of him. As if he'd do something unexpected, again. “Is it a company policy of yours to harass new clients?” he asked, rapidly running out of patience. To be honest, he quietly enjoyed the feeling of someone sitting in his lap, but he'd never admit it. All he wanted, was to get even drunker, have a go at any woman that remotely resembled his type and pass out somewhere.