There was a smile touching the corners of the ranger's eyes as he was dismissed. He could feel its line of tightness and tried unsuccessfully to put the expression away. Hopefully no one had noticed his swell of pride as his work had been called out, praised, even casually. Hopefully. Probably.
Now there was a new order of business to see to; his commanding officer had requested he spend an evening in the brothel that was to serve as their base of operations. If it wasn't for the bewildered looks he had caught on the other Pathfinder's faces, he would have sworn this was some kind of elaborate hazing for new Oathsworn. Dalheim turned away from the group, deciding he could stall the issue while taking a quick tour of the facilities.
Pathfinders. Everywhere it was Pathfinders. The members of his new unit were lounging on the furniture, looking over the freshly felted card tables, casting casual glances over menus, poking around the shady corners, voices drifting out of the bathing chambers, everywhere the redhead looked, there were Pathfinders working out how they'd like to spend an evening's time.
His attention was caught as the courtesans began filing back in, hips swaying with casual grace, clothing draped and tailored to reveal a little and invite the viewer to discover the rest, warm smiles and soothing voices. Dal's fingers fidgeted, nails picking at his own cuticles as he mentally tallied how long it had been and easily concluded that it was far far too long to be in present company.
A polite smile from one of the courtesans made the ranger suddenly aware that he had been staring hungrily and he pulled his eyes away, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to clear his head. Eyes drawing skyward, he suddenly froze.
Eyes of the Old Gods. There were Pathfinders in the rafters.
A light touch to his arm snapped his attention back down, the blonde has stepped forward, close enough that the could smell the scented oil that perfumed her skin and made it glow under the soft lights. "A shame seeing you look so burdened in a place like this." Her long fingers curled around his arm as a smile touched the edge of her lips and she tugged gently, urging him to step towards her and the remaining pair offering warm expressions in kind. "Here, surely we can find some way to put you at rest?"
His lips parted but he stopped, frozen in his speech for a quick mental inventory before leaning in "Are you available?"
The frankness of the question earned him some amusement, "We're all available here sir, but if you're looking to spend some time together, I don't have any promises to keep for a few hours. If that won't be time to accommodate your wishes, we have several other skilled employees who would be happy to tend to you..." she let the question fade off, brows lifting over clear emerald eyes.
He shook his head without hesitation "No, that will be fine." He reached, setting a hand lightly on her back, fingers sinking into the rich white fur of the shrug she wore. "...please, ah... lead the way?"
Together they stepped down a narrow but well lit hall, barely large enough for two, an easy excuse to walk close and brush bodies. The courtesan took a little longer with the door than was needed, let her hand slide briefly across well polished wood till she grasped the handle and ushered him inside. The room was small but the decorations lush and Dalheim soon found his eyes fixated on a small mound of pillows in the corner, a reminder of his former home.
"What a lovely opportunity you've afforded me," the blonde's voice was warm and enveloping as she set out two long stemmed glasses and picked up a bottle of red. "I wasn't certain what to expect when the Sunset Parlor fell under new ownership. It's heartening to see the Pathfinders so swift to embrace our new union."her expression was playful and as her customer had failed to protest, two glasses were poured and offered.
He gave a soft grunt of agreement, taking a mouthful of wine, relishing the rich familiar flavor. It was several moments and a polite but expectant look before Dalheim realized that grunting wasn't a sufficient answer for polite company. He swallowed hastily, sucking in a quick breath. "Ah, yes, It's... it was unexpected on our end too... but... I think everyone will adjust and ah, find the place they uh... fit in."
She laughed at the unintended double meaning of his words, and smiled genuinely as realization dawned on the Emberward's face before he buried it in the palm of his hand. The courtesan stepped in, assisting him in removing his heavy traveling cloak, hanging it on the wall before shrugging her own warming fur from her shoulders, revealing a wide spread tattoo, a dragonhawk clutching a pair of daggers in its talons over a spray of blood thistle.
Dalheim froze in place at the sight "I've seen you before."
"Oh?" She smiled cordially, looking over her shoulder a moment before returning to his side. Instinctively with the closeness, he reached out, smoothing a hand along her side, warm and generously curved beneath fine smooth fabric. The courtesan gave a pleased little purr at the touch "I do love stories where paths cross back again. Remind me when we saw each other last?" Her hands smoothed distractingly over his chest before she began unbuckling the harness of his cuirass.
"We didn't... or ah... it was one sided." The wine was set down so that he could assist with the armor, guiding her hands to the right latches before he was able to strip the leather shell and his tabard over his head. "I was with the rank and file, but I saw you together with the officers after we had taken the old southern temple in Outland..." Her posture changed, back straightening. "I ah... my unit marched North shortly after... I didn't think any of the courtesans survived after the temple was raided--?"
"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for somebody else." the smile remained though her eyes didn't meet his face. Downcast, she took is arm in her hand, unbuckling a greave and sliding it and the accompanying glove free. "I've never traveled anywhere so exciting. I hear the views of the sky on Outland are just breathtaking."
He wouldn't be distracted from the line of thought. "How did you escape the Black Temple?"
"I'd never forget that tattoo."
The woman took a deep breath, head tilting, glancing at her own betraying shoulder where the dragonhawk's wing curled elegantly. "A family crest." She kept her hands busy, skillfully sliding sliding over his arm, over the calloused hands that marked him for an archer. The courtesan began to massage into his forearm, earning a surprised moan before he drew his arm away, tending to the remaining armor himself as he watched silently, expectantly.
Finally she sighed, empty hands closing. "You saw my granddaughter."
Her smile returned at the thought, but it was distinctly sad, wilted at the edges "I do not know of the other courtesans... but as for her, you are correct. She did not survive when their parlor was invaded."
Dalheim piled his armor in the corner, the hollow shape of a man, like a discarded cicada shell. He let himself fall back on the couch with a sift sigh, settling into the luxurious pillows. The room was silent for several long moments before he sat up, picking up his wine glass and patting the couch beside him.
She lowered herself with grace, eyeing her client from the corner of her eye, uncertain for the moment.
He propped his foot up on the table before them, raised leg forming a low wall. "I haven't asked your name... may I have it?"
The blonde gave a pleasant bob of her head "Delonna Leybough."
"Dalheim Windchaser." He leaned forward to take the bottle, refilling both their glasses before leaning back into the pillows, glancing to the courtesan "Delonna Leybough... will you tell me about your granddaughter?"
Delonna's carefully sculpted brows lifted and she considered, then settled back into the cushions, a faint smile touching her features "She always was my favorite."