Bethas 2, 2719 | Late Night
Some Alley, Old Rose Harbor
He’d been nice to them.
TW - Reluctant Consent
CW - Prostitution
TW - Victim Blaming
TW - Allusions to Sexual Assault
Mess that they were they’d been grateful, so grateful but they’d also been so gods-be-damned blind. Clearly they’d been moony thinking that the man was like Kit, ready to drag some waif home to mind as if it was no big deal.
What had they expected? If a man showed attention to a pretty woman (to all appearances) in a bar and she was suddenly all over him the minute he offered to buy her something then of course he thought she was up for grabs! And hadn’t they done just that, flirting, being unbelievably friendly, laughing off lewd suggestions like a pro as if it was all old hat to them. But hadn’t they been a man once? Hadn’t they heard that sort of thing before? Why would they be caught blushing? And there oh so innocent comments about being hungry? Shae had been quite genuine but they should have known that that smile was lecherous rather than simply friendly. They should have known by the way he looked at them. How when they’d opened a few buttons on their shirt because the tavern was damn stuffy with all those bodies and he’d tried to gaze down into their cleavage that their playful comment could have been construed as something quite different.
They were incredibly dense not to have understood what he meant when he said that he was willing to pay for the youth’s company, the innocent-minded raen so stupidly asking if they would go back to his.
They really hadn’t realised that he thought them a prostitute until they’d left and he’d tugged them impatiently by the hand into a quiet alley. Even then, they’d been confused. They hadn’t said- Not that they’d be averse, he wasn’t bad looking but-
”I said I’d pay, didn’t I?” he’d practically growled in their ear, suddenly less nice than they remembered and more aggressive, manoeuvring them against the wall while his lips crashed against their mouth, their neck, tugging to expose flesh while Shae stood numb with surprise. They made a feeble attempt to push him off, finding themself saying, “Not here” instead of “I don’t want to” and unable to keep their lip from twisting in distaste when he commented that he wouldn’t be long.
They hadn’t exactly said yes, realising too late how he’d seen things and feeling bad for it. They certainly didn’t say no, the former wick reasoning with themself that plenty of people did this, just work, no shame in it. Plenty of people enjoyed this and Shae didn’t dislike sex. And they were hungry, they could use the money.
Couldn’t be easier.
Perhaps that was the problem, the ease of it. They’d felt so useless when they’d been with Kit. How many hours had they done their best to get people to show interest, singing away in the hope of some coins being tossed their way? Oh they could draw people sure, they were something to look at but the galdor was the one who really earned. And look at them now, a few minutes and there was some coin, tossed so uncaringly at their feet. They had basically done nothing and it had paid off. How ironic.
Oh they saw the irony all right but it made them feel bitter, Shae remaining pressed against the wall in spite of the cold, shivering as they stared at the coins on the frosted ground. It had been so easy and yet the felt... horrible. They were disgusted by themself, disgusted by what they'd just so passively allowed to occur. They couldn't have fought them, not in this body but they hadn't even tried.
I didn't run away this time, Kit, they thought, tears welling up at last as the full implications of it sank in.
Circle save them, what the fuck was wrong with them? They'd been so bloody stupid but they only had themself to blame. It wasn't as if they'd forgotten what body they were in but they'd been revelling in it, doing a little here and there to turn it to their best advantage.
They hadn't thought about what could happen to them out here though, vulnerable and alone. They'd been a man but they'd never been a fucking bastard and they realised with horror that Old Rose was full of them. Gods, Kit had known, of course he had and they hadn't listened. They hadn't fucking listened and then they'd turned and bitten the hand that fed them. Fuck that, they'd savaged it. It was no wonder that he'd screamed at them to get out. They'd only had one other connection in the Harbor and they hadn't used it, hadn't gone crawling to Delyth out of a mix of shame and fear. Delyth was more Kit's friend than Shae's and he was liable to turn up there sooner rather than later. Del could easily throw them out if he asked, hell, she could easily have refused to take them in if they'd shown up and told her what happened. It had been their fault. It was all their own fault.
They gave a pitiful sob, wincing as they registered the tenderness at their throat, reached up to probe the skin with numb but questing fingers. It felt bruised and it wasn't the only place; they could feel aches and pains in other places, other locations that were liable to show up bruising in a few hours.
They'd really fucked up but they'd asked for this. Kit would probably say that he'd told them so. Gods, they do anything to go crawling back to them now, would have gladly done so almost as soon as they'd left even before the hunger, the thirst, the lack of sleep, the attempts to stay warm and now... this.
But he didn't want them back and why should he? Why would he want this mess back?
Their stomach growled.
Even as they wished that they could scrub themself clean of the encounter, as they wished that they could turn back the clocks, maybe so far that they would never have been born, their body was reminding them of basic needs. It was reminding them why they'd gone along with this in the first place.
Reluctantly, they bent awkwardly, registering pains and stiffness and scratched up their ill-gotten earnings. They'd eat and then... they'd go to Delyth. They'd beg the witch to take them in, sob at her feet, appeal to her, woman to woman.
Please, don't leave me alone out here. Please!
Slowly, caught up in their own misery and disgust and shame, the former wick slunk off into the dark, seeking sustenance and some warm corner that they could wait out until morning.