The only thing that could be worse than the streets of Denerim was the streets of Denerim in midwinter.
While elsewhere (home, for example) snow was something pure and sort, blanketing the world in peaceful white, it only emphasized Denerim's squalor. Whatever was on the ground had been trampled underfoot a hundred times by evening, and even what fell on the roofs was fouled by gutters and chimney smoke. The urchins and beggars were more pitiful than ever, convulsing with shivers in their rages, and the rich more ostentatious than ever with their fur-lined finery.
As if Ordhan needed any more reminder of how much he hated this city. There was only one place where he could get away from these reminders, though a reminder in itself of how low he had been brought. No matter how cruel or vicious the rest of the city was, the Pearl always waited with open arms.
After a few times he stopped coming in his armor, but today he wish he had as he trudged through the slushy muck in Denerim's streets that was once snow. At least it kept him warm. The cloak that he shivered beneath was threadbare and patched, and one of his boots was starting to get a hole in it. He could feel the dampness from the half-melted snow seeping through the abused leather.
The guard reminded himself, as ever, that he really ought to be saving his money for another cloak or another pair of boots. But responsible things were far from his mind as he stomped through the familiar alleyway to the familiar door. Saving for a rainy day was difficult when every day was miserable, and coin was best spent pushing that misery as far away from his mind as he could.
When he shut the door behind him he stood just within, letting the warmth of the firelit room wash over him. He took a moment to brush the half-melted snowflakes from his shoulders before letting his eyes comb the inside of the room. On some visits he wasn't picky, and would settle for another woman if the one he sought was otherwise occupied (which was often enough; she was beautiful and very good at her job, quite the treat for any patron). If she was not available tonight, though, there would be no reason to stay. He needed a listening ear as much as he wanted a warm body; none of the others had offered it, and he didn't have the boldness to ask.
There she was-- Reclined on a couch, skirts spread about her like the petals of a bright blue flower in contrast to the dreary grays and browns of the world outside. Ordhan walked straight to her and came to a halt in front of the couch, brow knit in a vaguely anxious expression. "Hello."