The other lads on the ship had given him directions to the local cat holes, but each place stank of desperate smiles and painted faces that made him think of familiar, uncomfortable things that did nothing for his temper. He didn’t expect sincerity, not from a woman he only wanted company from, but feverish, near black eyes were a dark flag he avoided.

The whole place was reeking of indulgences of every kind. The narrow streets of Silvermoon were changing, and more rapidly than he was used to. Roads were being cut off south, something was rising and it was clamping down hard on trade.

It made Perenas’ job a great deal more lucrative, but when more and more requests started turning up for things you could usually buy at a weekly market, he was beginning to see the teeth of the beast down there.

He didn’t want to think about it. He was tired and he ached in every joint and tensing muscle. He poked his head past another silk curtain and noted the relief on the young woman’s face as he pulled away. He supposed he was not their ideal patron either.

Heavy, sullen features had settled on him in his youth and wouldn’t quietly be kindly, effort had to be made to seem pleasant, but it made his life easier. Most of the time.

As he returned to the inn where he had left his shipmates the only two that remained were older still than himself, and smirked in a knowing fashion. It made his cheek twitch behind his beard and that was enough for them to lean towards him conspiratorially and offer an address of a place that might better suit his needs.

They both seemed familiar enough with it, and that was good enough for him. They were long lived, sea going elves while he had come to it out of necessity. So had the beard. Both he had taken a liking to, and while he knew he probably couldn’t ever go home, there would always be a place for him on the small ships that skulked around the edges of the Eastern Kingdoms.

He hadn’t explained his problem, and they didn’t offer much in the way of instruction other than to make sure not to fuck it up for the rest of them and treat her good. Word would get around, as it always did, if he skimped on her payment or took a rough hand to her.

When he arrived at the narrow sea of buildings, he was only reminded of the tall, swaying clippers in the port. Lines upon lines of sheets and washing hung between high windows, strung together with pulleys and small magics.

The noise was about the same as well. Shouting from high up, down onto those below who were asking things of busy looking women with arms usually full. He recognised the kind of place it was, as people always had to live somewhere and lifted an arm to let long limbed, screeching children go past without much thought.

The noises died down the deeper through the narrow hallways made between each tall building he went. The stones began to shine and the scent of cheap but functional soaps lingered. He stopped at the door and noted the distinct lack of number, and other pathways that seemed to lead to it.

Craning his neck he could see cobbles of much better kept streets in the distance and tucked his shirt back into his trousers proper, in case they had pulled a fast one on him and sent him to a more respectable household.

After knocking it was clear that he was in the right place, a broad shouldered woman answered and invited him in. The inside wasn’t much in size, and with what little space therein was filled with soft and comfortable, if mismatching pieces of furniture.

As he was told to sit it occurred to him that the space was probably rented, bits and pieces that looked fine and sturdy had been carted in and placed in an attempt to mask the veneer of the building.

It worked for as long as he didn’t examine it too close. Instead his gaze lingered on the woman who was currently fussing with making tea. Wearing a fitted, layered dress that showed that she was at least well fed allayed his fears that he was putting coins into unwilling hands.

She wasn’t a slight, or bashful thing. But there was a classical beauty about her wide mouth and blonde hair, swept about the nape of her neck to draw attention. She turned back to him and smiled for a moment before a more calculating gaze replaced it.

“Have you taken a bath since getting back from sea?”

The frank question made him snort and he pulled out his pipe from his inner pocket to give him something to do while he let his embarrassment flee him,

“Aye.”

“Not a good enough one, go behind the screen and give yourself a rub down.”

The scowl he gave her was well practiced, used to spur the young lads into work as they tried to chat to one another as they took the sails in. It took him a long silence and cocked brow to realise that it didn’t do little to her, other than move her hands to her hips.

“Do you need me to show you how?” She smiled as she spoke and he hauled himself out the chair in silence, leaving his pipe behind to go do as he was asked.

The screen was another lost piece, decorated with amber lynx running through tall, jade grass. A large basin of warm water and space enough to wash was tucked into the corner. He could feel his cheeks heating up as he stripped down.

He wondered if he’d gone to a place too fine for him, if she didn’t want his stink on her sheets she could have just told him to leave. Other, equally bitter thoughts were stopped short as he tugged his vest and shirt from his head only to spy her beside him, looking amused.

“Here now, you muttering isn’t the way to go about it.” She reached past him for the basin and brought it closer to him, taking his hands by the wrists and soaking them in the water. A fat bar of soap was brought out and she worked up a lather in her own palms, bringing them back down to his.

“I know what to do.” He protested mildly as her hands started working up his forearms, taking their time about the task.

“Mhm.” She replied, fingers touching at the edges of old rope burns and thin scars from accidents of various kinds. Some he didn’t even recall being present as he watched her hands go back to the basin for a sponge and more lather.

It reached his chest and she nodded at him to get the rest of his clothes off with a gesture down. They came away easily enough but there was a nagging feeling in him as he left them on a nearby chair that it was supposed to be the other way around.

Still, it wasn’t cold and her hands were kind to him. They took small detours from his chest, round his sides to his hips, dragging the sponge along with. It was with a small grunt of frustration that he noted she was purposefully ignoring the slow rise of him between his thighs as she carried on with what she was doing.

In rinsing him off, the warm water travelled over such neglected areas onto the bare patch of stone floor. She looked rather pleased with herself as she put the sponge away and brought a towel back.

A snatch was made for her wrist as she came close again and he tugged, surprised that only her hand met him. She wasn’t easily moved, it seemed.

“Not yet.” She reprimanded him, her eyes wandering.

“Am I not clean enough?”

“Let me see…” She pulled her hand away from him, leaving him to grab the towel and do his best as she perched on the chair before him.

While she had been neglectful of him before, she was suddenly bold and her hand grasped at him firmly. It pushed the air from him and he looked at her with another warning glare as the towel stopped its task.

There her hand set about touching him further, exploring with curiosity what had been long ignored. Soon her lips followed suit and he was introduced to the dark warmth of her mouth. Her hands reached for his hips and brought him closer, with no protest from him until a choked cry stilled him.

She pulled away from him when his hips had stopped trembling and made use of the towel.

“Aye, clean enough.” She told him with an amused voice as she led him back further into the small space to the bed, hidden by a heavy curtain.

He lay down on it, catching his breath and watching her silently as she undressed. The dress was a many layered thing, and only one remained as she perched herself on his thighs. She was a good, warm weight against them and he pulled her down for more.

There was no desperation in the hours that followed, she had her rules and he kept to them. She hid nothing from him as the last scraps of her clothing were tugged from her. Rough hands and thick thighs told him this was not her primary profession, but she had an appetite he was only too happy to help sate.

Her smiles as she breathlessly told him to stop, slapping at his shoulders as he nestled between her thighs were worth the coin and tobacco he left on the table on his way out.

Returning to the inn he was laden with questions, which woman answered? They were all tutting that it wasn’t the red head. She was a firecracker. They liked her the most it seemed. His earlier assumption appeared to be correct. He saw no problem with the woman he’d seen, Kayla.

There was agreement that she was also acceptable, but if he was lucky the next time, he would see what they meant.

From land to sea and back again, time passed and the climate didn’t fare much better. Crops failed and cities were raised, far south and not their kin, so there was little action. Gossip, of course but no arms were taken up.

In the meantime Perenas returned, having sampled the red head and the other blonde he felt he still missed what Kayla offered. He began requesting her, then she told him what days she had the room. He made a note of them.

One day in port, he was waiting on a runner and heard his crew gossiping like hens on the slipway. He heard one of them saying he saw “Perenas boy” in the market and he snatched at the lad demanding more information.

Worried he was in trouble, he blurted that he thought it was common knowledge, and that a boy that took the likeness of the captain was seen in town. It was a joke! That was all.

A gnawing concern in his chest had him walking back to those tall, noisy buildings. He leant against a close entryway and lit his pipe, eyes scanning the small heads as they scurried past in herds. They chased balls, hoops, each other, and passing dogs before his eye caught something.

A lick of black hair and a scowl as some other babe had taken something from it, a toddler that’s face was screwing up in infant rage was all too familiar to him. A bigger girl lifted the now screaming babe up onto her chest and bellowed that she was,

“Takin’ ‘im back to his ma! You lot are too rough with ‘im!” much to the jeering of the other children.

Perenas followed to a half open door where the babe was settled onto a familiar set of hips. Kayla didn’t look too pleased to see him. She thanked the girl for bringing him and set her off, closing the door behind her as she stood out onto the step to talk to him.

“You know where to go if you want my time.” She told him briskly, acting as if Perenas’ presence was a tiresome annoyance. He had no illusions, he knew what his company meant to her, but there was another factor in the matter now.

“Who’s that then?” He nodded to the slowly calming child who had stuffed his thumb into his mouth and was staring at him,

“My son.” She let the words down slowly, purposefully so there was no mistake in what she said, “And my man in there knows well enough to keep his silence, and so should you.”

“…and that’s that?” he grunted, eyes lingering on the boy who took a turn of the shy and pressed his face into the worn cotton of his mother’s dress.

“That’s that.” she shrugged the boy higher and went back into her home, door closing fast behind her.

Perenas rubbed a hand through his hair roughly and spat a curse out between clenched teeth as he turned on his heel. Back to the ship and back to sea. He didn’t need that hanging around his neck. That’s why he’d gone to her in the first place.

The knowledge weighed on him though and when smoke appeared on the horizon and the great gates slammed shut, he made a visit back. He arrived to chaos, people were trying to get to boats to Quel’danas but he didn’t think the Sunwell would be enough. Not from what he’d heard.

There was no safety anywhere but away from all of it. Out to sea. From one clipper to another, if he could only convince her.

She stood in the tiny kitchen of her home, gaping at him in surprise as he arrived. A black eye and split lip were bare on her face, the babe strapped to her chest and two older children lingering nearby. They eyed him fearfully, clutching at the bags of their meager possessions.

Words had never been his friends, and they failed him again as he shoved more coin into her hand. She spat at him,

“What? What d’you even want now?!” she barked, as he looked at her, horrified that she’d gotten the wrong idea,

“There’s a clipper going out, you need to get on it.”

“Don’t be an idiot! We’re going to Quel’danas with my sister. The ‘well will protect everyone.” she tried to wave him away and he snatched at her hand, dragging her back to him. The boy stared at him, face crumpling in fear as Kayla ignored the sudden wailing from him.

“You want this? You want to take him on your bloody ship. You’re welcome to him, I don’t need another fucking mouth to feed in all this.” She gestured to the sniveling bundle and he shook his head vehemently.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with him.” He pushed the coin further into her hands, “Get on the clipper, wait it out and come back. That thing that’s coming up from the south. It doesn’t want this place. It wants the ‘well. Understand?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Ships from Lordaeron, fleeing the place. Human light buggerance. They want power. They want the well.” He gripped at her hand tightly, “I don’t want a thing from you, just…”

His eyes lingered on the screeching, red faced child, upset by the noise and raised voices.

“Fine.” She snatched herself away from him and shooed the children to the door, “Take me to the ship.”

He carried the two through the thronging masses of bodies, fearful and scrambling onto boats as Kayla followed. The clipper was a vast thing, and he made sure she and the coin were aboard it. He knew he’d probably never see any of them again, but his hand rested for a long moment on the babe strapped to her chest. There was a pause as they regarded one another, and he hoped there would at least be something for them when they returned.

His own crew were arguing about where to go until they realised those that were paying the most wanted to go back down south, far south to Ironforge to wait out whatever uprising there might be. The coin was enough to convince them, and they weighed themselves down with supplies and didn’t look back.

The next week at sea, the whole crew suddenly near fainted and they all knew something had gone terribly wrong. They felt strange and hollowed out, but there was no course for anything other than what they had set out to do.