A Formal Response
She hated baths. There wasn’t anything wrong with them, per se, but Light be damned, how she hated to clean up. She’d been in the city most of the days for the past two weeks, advertising with the ‘help’ of her bodyguard ‘Blade.’ The stupid, oafish brute who was over six feet of muscle that made her pale in comparison. Her short red hair was combed nicely, the natural curl giving it a little bit of puffy volume. Even though she was muscular, she’d still donned a robe to look nice for him. Was there any option? She’d left the city two nights prior to have one day for travel and one to clean up. As she strode down the hallway, her stride remained confident. She knew where she stood. She was an asset to the company, despite her roll within it. She never questioned, never disobeyed. The worst of it was verbally abusing ‘Blade,’ who would promptly swat her upside the head in retribution. Though it was no excuse for the abuse, Aloreigh would always respond with ‘I deserved that.’
That week, she’d held the attention of a priest. She knew she was being watched at all times. She never bad-mouthed the company and, in fact, promoted the fights as eagerly as her sassy self could. No one knew. She knew. But she wasn’t anyone of note. She wasn’t important. She was, at best, a pawn on the chessboard. And yet this priest and her, they’d interacted. He’d shown her a side to herself she’d long since locked away. Though she’d had some time for one on one interaction, nothing of lewd nature of course, she was always tracked. Always watched. And she knew better. This was her life and his business.
All thoughts of the city were thrown to the wind as she knocked on the door. The door flung open before she could knock a second time, nearly falling into the room and tripping over her simple blue robe. The burly woman straightened up, a look of embarrassment briefly crossing her features before her normally neutral look took hold once more.
“Aloreigh, sweetie!” the ‘good doctor’ squeaked out as she closed the door behind the gladiator. “You dressed up just like we suggested!” Suggestions were never given a true option. Not in this business. The Sin’dorei adjusted her bifocals and smiled brightly to Aloreigh. Her teeth were eerily sharp. That had always unsettled Ally.
“Of course, Doctor,” she responded promptly whilst never breaking that curt facade. It was short and to the point, but always respectful and polite. She knew better. She knew what had happened to Cobwollop. Even being in the city, she’d heard of the news. Things traveled far within the business. Yet he should’ve known better. She’d damn near mentally matured in this business. Even in her younger days, she was wise. Wiser, at least. “Mister Topwick, sir, you wished to see me?”
Sunrend clasped her hands together giddily, knee-high boots clicking against the floor as she sat on a lounge off to the side of Topwick’s desk. Her fel green eyes ticked back and forth to watch the pendulum swing upon the Goblin’s desk. But she was listening. ALWAYS listening.
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