Backscene: Boudoir Secrets, Stolen Who: Lillian Tharelle, Black Matthew (NPC) When: Summer, 10 Solis, 9:25 Where: Lillie’s bedroom, The Pearl, Denerim Summary: What could a thief possibly find of value in the bedroom of a whore? Rating: M to be safe
It was late, halfway between the final hour of the day before and the time when the sun would rise again. There were still customers, no doubt, but The Pearl was quiet now, under the hush of late night. After the last of the drunken sailors had wandered back to their ships and the guards had retired so that they might be able to wake for their morning shifts. Lillie had retired to her own room, on the second floor. These rooms were private for the workers, where they could sleep and keep whatever belongings they might possess. They weren’t roomy, but the privacy itself was the luxury. Lillie’s room was situated just off the street, at the corner of the building so that she was fortunate enough to possess two windows. In the summer and late spring she nearly always kept them open during the night. The room could get stuffy.
The bed tucked against the far wall was little more than a single, and the frame was old, left from when the place had been an inn. The Mistress said that before the The Pearl had been The Pearl it had been a tavern an inn, mostly catering to the sailors and travelers coming and going across the Waking Sea. At some point a shrewd business man had purchased the place and transformed it into a brothel. The downstairs had been prettied up, the rooms made larger and more luxurious for guests. Not that they were all that luxurious mind you, but the beds were big and there were fancy looking rugs on the floor.
There were no rugs upstairs. The bed had been the only piece of furniture in the tiny room when it had been given to Lillie. The door stuck and windows rattled during windy nights but she loved the tiny space. It was the first thing ever that she could call her own. In months since she’d arrived she’d tried to make it her own. The bed was carefully made with a blanket she’d taken from home, the one her mother had quilted together of leftover scraps when she’d learned she was pregnant. It was faded and thin but she treasured that, along with the tiny grey ragdoll that sat lopsided against the pillow. Her eyes were tiny specks of blue thread, her nose an ancient wooden button. As a child she’d named the doll something or other, but now called her Siha for her mother, sometimes alone in the dark when she’d speak to herself and imagine she was talking to a woman long dead.
Lillie pushed the door shut, pressing her weight into it when it stuck as always until it fell into place with a click. She reached back to loosen the laces of her dress until it easily fell away with a whisper of fabric. The chest of drawers squeezed in beneath the other window had been a lucky find, an old piece of furniture someone was throwing away. It was battered to hell, but if she took the time to tend to it then she could make it pretty again. It was in this chest that nearly all her pay went. Lillian was fond of clothes; and now that she actually had the money to buy them, buy she did. Every week a small part of her pay was tucked away until at the end of the month when she could buy something new. Her prettiest dresses were for work, the brighter fabrics and more daring cuts that wouldn’t necessarily be proper while wandering about the Market. She had a couple of traveling dresses for such purposes; a cotton one for the warmer months, and a wool one for the winter. Her boots were tucked against the wall and she slid her feet out of her soft slipper-like shoes to join them. The dress was carefully refolded and put away.
From the bottom drawer she selected her only nightgown; a somewhat modest cotton nightshirt with long sleeves to keep her warm through those winter nights. But it was a brilliant red color and she fingered the fabric with a smile before pulling it over her head. She slipped her hands into the collar to untuck her hair from the fabric, tossing her head slightly so that the long brown locks fell against her shoulders. Lillie reached up to finger her hair thoughtfully, wondering if she should cut it to above her shoulders. The length tended to weigh down the natural curl that she was so fond of.
The only light she kept in the room was one stingy candle on a holder which she would leave atop the chest of drawers. Not that she was afraid of the dark, but afraid of not seeing where she was and tripping over her own feet in the tiny room. It was already lit, casting a flickering glow over the room as Lillie moved to open the windows. The breeze coming off the ocean felt good and smelled of salt. She lowered herself to the bed, scooting beneath the thin quilt. She turned her head into the pillow, closed her eyes, and slept.