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Fallon stood at the small, dirty window in her room, squinting to try to make out the forms marching wearily beneath it. The view never changed, but still she stood at the window every day, as if one day she would be surprised at what was happening in the world outside. What she hoped to see, however, she could never be certain. With a resigned sigh, knowing that today was just as every other day, she lifted her eyes to try to see beyond the filth of the Blight, perhaps even beyond the edges of Drezlen. Sadly, however, Fallon's room was not very high off of the ground to begin with and Drezlen was a vast and complicated city. She doubted she would ever see life outside of this dreadful place.

"Someday I will at [i]least[/i] be able to see a tree. Or a clean river! Like the Blackwash, but I would be able to dip my toes in it ... and not have them fall off." Fallon backed away from the window that threatened to kill her dreams. She sat on her stiff bed, plucking the limp fabric doll off of her itchy sheets. It had been stuffed once, but that was many years ago. "Maybe one day the mayor himself will request some ... company. And while I'm there, I will gaze out his windows way up there and see forests, and blue skies, and sparkling waters. Maybe one day I will even be able to leave Drezlen ... Of course, I'll be taking you with me, Mallaidh," she said to the doll, squeezing it gently with her hands as though to hug it. She wasn't sure why she still loved the doll so much. The memories tied to it weren't necessarily pleasant. But, at the same time, they were the only ones she had.

Fallon sighed and stood up, walking gently across the room in her slippers to put Mallaidh away in her drawer. She stepped just the way she'd been taught most of her life. Feet soft and delicate, making no noise. 'Swing those hips you don't got, girl' she used to hear often. Since those days she'd grown into womanhood, but her face was still childlike and innocent in appearance. Most of her customers came back as regulars for that purpose. There were a surprising number of men with some interesting -- and sometimes twisted -- fantasies and desires. Some of the things they'd asked Fallon to do she would never admit to a soul, not even under torture. Except for Aignéis, of course. It was important to inform Aignéis of customer's preferences and 'do not evers' to ensure they return, coins in hand.

Glancing over at the window once more, the elven girl let the quiet dreams die away once again. She couldn't let them interfere with her, not today. Aignéis would not be in a pleasant mood, and if a whore wanted her pay, Aignéis had to be pleased. Fallon had seen what the other escort had done to her customer's face. She had never bothered to learn the poor wench's name. She knew the girl wouldn't last long. "She'd be just fine if she just did her job. It isn't a difficult task," Fallon muttered to herself, refusing to pity the other girl. "It's no matter, she'll be gone soon enough." She had seen her type come and go many times in her years as a prostitute and escort.

After so many years of living in places just like this one, it was easy to tune out the regular sounds you could hear throughout the day. Even though floods of fairly strong emotions came at Fallon from every which direction, this was something else she'd become accustomed to. Most often she could feel the guilt, the lust, even the fire of anger that came with sleeping with a fae prostitute. There were one or two times she'd caught on to a customer becoming a little too involved, which she discovered often led to putting the subject of his obsession in danger. Now she always informed Aignéis and her brothel sister of those.

Lifting her hand mirror to her face, Fallon double checked to ensure that she looked presentable, then left the room to descend the stairs. On days like these, life in the brothel could be a bore. She'd only had one customer today, to no fault of her own. Business today was just moving terribly slow.