The Wolf of the Wilds

The Rose

A dress. She needed a new dress. Actually, scratch that, she needed a new set of clothes entirely. Even the coat she was now wearing probably belonged to a now dead assassin. Oh, and she needed to treat her wounds for that matter. Waltzing back into Arv's domain was dangerous as it was, but she didn't need to raise more suspicion than necessary.

As she went over her options, she wandered back along the street she had just come from, hands stuffed in her pockets. Her body ached; her wounds stung.

"Yer looking a little roughed up there, Love," a voice said from one of the brothel's arches. Helena looked up, eyes wide. A middle-aged woman with long, dark locks, heavy eyelids and ruby red lips was watching her with a curved smirk.

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, going to rub the side of her nose, but wincing as a sharp pain stabbed into her.

"Fine? I've seen dead mice that look in better shape," the prostitute continued, wafting her pale skin with an intricate wooden fan. A fine silken dress hung from her curves, spotless and made from expensive fabrics.

A thought came to mind. "You're right actually, I do need help. A room, some clothes, a sewing needle," Helena said, stepping closer. "That's all."

The raven-haired woman sauntered forward, running a finger along Helena's shoulder. "I can give you everything you desire," she breathed, leaning in closer, "for three exim an hour."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "That's rather a lot," she said, patting the money in her pouch to test its weight.

"Dresses aren't cheap. Neither is my time for that matter. Come on, I promise...you won't regret it." A sultry flash of the teeth and a gentle hand on the small of Helena's back encouraged her towards the brothel.

If it hadn't been for the pain she was in, Helena probably would've found the entire act highly amusing. "Alright," she said. "Can we head inside? I'll pay up."

"Of course, Love. The name is Rose by the way," Rose said, guiding her past the other prostitutes and into the brothel's entrance hall. The place was far too brightly coloured, and red, orange and blue covered every inch of available space. Helena spotted a bored looking man behind a welcoming desk and he raised his head as Rose ushered her inside.

"Ay! Got a good one there, Rosie?" he said, lazily looking over the pair.

"Yes, she's got nice cheekbones, ain't she?"

The man replied with a hum. "Very nice. Anyway, Miss, have a nice time at our humble business." He waved them on, turning back to a thickly bound book.

Up the stairs, along a passage and around a corner they went. Helena tried to ignore the smell of sex and heavy perfumes that drenched the building, but soon Rose unlocked one of the rooms and beckoned for her. It was dimly lit, neat, with a large bed sat in the middle. The older woman held Helena's elbow and sat her down on the edge of the mattress, before turning to face her, hands on her hips.

"Who did it? Yer partner, yer parents?" she asked, her dark gaze flickering between Helena's split lip and to the bruises that were probably beginning to form on her face.

Helena found her staring up at the woman with an open mouth. "What do you mean?"

Rose released a frustrated sigh and placed down her fan on a bedside locker. "I'm asking, who hit yer and messed you up like that? Don't play dumb; you look like a cow just shat you out and trampled you for good measure."

The question came as a surprise and for a moment, Helena was unsure of how to respond. "I...got in a fight?" she said, internally cringing at the look of scepticism on the other woman's face.