Thread: Unfolding legends (Sharub x Bravocherry)

Bran watched as his fellow adventurer slipped into the watercloset, past the curtains, and waited a moment until he was sure he could hear the rustling of her clothes. Bran's dull eyes sharpened, and fixed on his hat that sat slumped over. Quickly, quietly, and covertly, the swordsman tip-toed over to his hat, and pulled it up, revealing a large bag of gold pieces. His face was illuminated by their glow, and his smile crept from ear to ear. Damn dwarves never know when to stop drinkin! He thought to himself. That dull bastards probably sittin' at the front desk not knowin how he can pay his whores And with that, he let out a chuckle which he quickly tried to stifle with his hands. He waited again, silently, for any sign that Nana may come out from behind the curtains. Once he was sure she would not, he put his hat back over his pilfered prize, and went back over to the bed. The calloused soles of his feet pressed against the cold hardwood, and it sent a brief shiver up his spine. He sat at the bed, sinking into its comfort. Bran had taken off his shirt before he started hearing Nana inside the water closet, and had just begun with his pants. It was only the rustling of clothes, the unclasping of a bra. But this alone brought thoughts to Bran's head, thoughts he immediately tried to push away. She had such an innocence around her that while at first Bran had found annoying, but in the moments of her undressing in the other room, only made her more appealing to Bran. She was inexperienced, a novice perhaps. He could teach her a few things, he mused. Bran shook his head, and got up, starting to pace about the room. This may become a problem for Bran, he had shared many nights with fellow adventurers and it usually ended with his head on a chopping block or a wanted poster. Female adventurers were not to be trifled with, as Bran found he often underestimated them. It's just the hotel gettin to ya lad.. He had thought, as he finally managed to slip off his own pants. He had not looked at himself in a mirror since earlier in the day. Not often did he really get to. Not often did he really want to. He looked up and down his now naked body. His face was scraggly, his hair was unkempt and rough. His eyes had returned to their dullness, no light seeming to reflect off of them at all. His body was fit and lean, like all adventurers, however his height made him look more lanky than strong with his clothes on. Without them, his body seemed more sculpted and toned, but not beautiful. His body was covered in burns and scars. A large, red gash cut into his chest, in between the hair that covered most of it. His right arm had three long scratches across the shoulder, his left was adorned with a Lichtenberg Figure that went all the way down to his forearm. His naked body was like a map, cutting through time and space, showing the history of the swordsman for all who may ever get this close to him. It was his eternal, solemn reminder of what he was. A swordsman. Nothing more. Bran was, as he always seems to be, lost in thought, when he heard the commotion from the other room. It's called soap ya daft filly and ya rub it on yer body! he called back to her. Sweet Gods, just don't break anything. I doubt we could pay to replace even one of these fuck paintings! he said, motioning towards all the debauchery, for nobody to see.