He frequented the camps often enough, and this one was no different than the others. It sat back in the woods about a good mile or three away from any form of civilization which was they way they liked it and what he felt was necessary. The camp consisted of a good few dozen covered wagons of sorts and a various amount of tents set up throughout the vicinity. Either way, the entire society of vagabonds, much like their nomadic forefathers, were prepared to pack up everything and move with only a moments notice. They had done it before, he knew, and they would do it again. They didn't move to follow a food source, though, as their ancestors may have, nor to follow the change in season. No. These people left whatever it is they called home only when their presence caused an uprise at the closest city or town. Not that this happened often, but there were a good number of times that they had been labeled witches or werewolves and had to take their family to a place where no one had ever heard of them and start with a clean and empty slate.
This latest location, though, they had been living at for a good slot of time, seeming to get along well enough with the surrounding civilians. The locals found it easier to merely enjoy the caravan for what it was: a traveling source of entertainment. Many of the small tents that skirted the wagons themselves were not even used by the gypsies for familial tasks or even a home. Instead, these tents were used to hold a private audience with some of the more able of the townsfolk. Inside one could hear giggling or praise or the simple sounds of two lovers in the throes of passion. Some of the gypsy folk sold their bodies, others their wares. Some, though, managed to sell both.
Selling their body did not mean they had to take a romp in the sack with anyone that threw coin their way. Quite the contrary. Their bodies were often a thing of art and were sold through dance or other various venues. Those that took lovers did so for the mere fact that they delighted in it, not for the coin. They took pride in the fact that they were not your typical fare found in the red lantern districts.
He himself tried never to allow himself to fall into the trap that these mysterious groups of people offered, from their delightful smelling smokes that caused beauty to waft visibly in the air to their delightful smelling bodies that caused wonders to speak from ones lips. He came none the less, though, to conduct business at times when he so desired. Tonight, he had been called here.
The woman who called him there stepped out of one of the wagons wearing very little. She saw her body much like the others; her body was a work of art. She had inked many designs of a tribal style along most all of her body. At least, along all of her body that he could see from where he stood. Over the ink, over her flesh, was a sheen that he was not familiar seeing on many others. It sparkled and danced on her, seeming to continue to flow on her body as water would over rocks. As she began walking towards him, their eyes locked. Her hair was bushy and long and the brightest of flames. She was called the Goddess of Blood Lust and she had asked to meet with him without using any words.
“Mechora,” came that delightful voice of his, singing on a breath.
“You know of me. I'm so glad. Come. We shall sit by the fire.” It was if she had not been the one to call him. The business wasn't in her voice. She almost appeared to have no desire to speak with him as she continued walking, stepping past him and continuing to the fire without once looking behind to see if he may be following. He did, of course, without pause as he trailed behind her with his casual and languid gait as if he indeed had all the time in the world.
The fire brought all new joys and visions to him as he approached and stood by the woman's side. Flames licked from their kindling and threatened to blot out the darkening sky with their brilliance. The heat was astounding from where they stood, still a good twenty feet away. Closer still to the fire were groups of men or women, a few of them having slithering bodies slick with sweat dancing to the beat of the drums that could be heard throughout the entirety of the camp. Every now and then a gleam caught his eye as it flicked through the air; coins being tossed into the pot beside each dancer as laughter then followed along with various lewd gestures. One of the dancers in particular caught his eye; a striking vision she was. The way her body moved held the same exotic language as the others, but also defiance towards those that might be thinking of her in particular ways besides that of the art of dance. It was difficult to tell whether more laughter or less was coming from her particular corner in the flames, but it was easy enough to know that she attracted quite the gathering.
“Aensa Xenthrope,” she eased, seeming to catch his roaming eyes. “A fine dancer and talented in many other ways as well. She is good for a little roll in the hay, no?”
“No.” The tone of his voice even startled Mechora as she was taken aback by his lack of interest. How could someone not desire a body like hers?
“Well, no matter. Please, sit. I have much I wish to discuss with you.”
“We will see how much there is to discuss.” And with that he did take a seat at the small table that was pressed flush against the wall of one of the covered wagons facing the burning flames on the bonfire. “You are called the Goddess of Blood Lust, are you not? Where is it you gather this name from?”
She cleared her throat as she finally took a seat on the opposite side of the table, straightening her back which offered a view of a few of the inked designs that hid beneath clothing that stretched away in the movement. “I am. Or, at least, it is the title that they have given to me here in the camp.”
“Various camps, as I have heard. Your name precedes you.”
“Well, I can't say that is because of my own doing.” Her legs stretched outwards before crossing and locking at her ankles, her gaze flitting over the man with a frown as she noticed his own gaze watched only the fire. A slight shrug caused her shoulders to roll before her head followed in order to stretch the muscles in her neck. “It is simply a title.”
“I have heard much otherwise. Please tell me why it is you called me here. You must have been watching me for some time to be able to have the other camps point me in this direction.”
“Not watching, really. More that your name precedes you as well, Investigator.”
“Ahh. Then it is more that you have heard of me than that you were asking for me.”
“When looking for information, I have heard you are the best.”
“But you don't want me to find information for you, do you?”
Her mouth opened, lips twitching, at a loss for words at the moment. It took her a full minute for her to recompose herself, turning to follow his eyes in watching the fire with him as it danced ever increasingly into the sky. “I suppose I don't, no.”
“Honesty begets a strong partnership.”
“Partnership. You flatter me with such words.”
“It is what we are both looking for, I'm sure.” Golden gaze finally flipped from the flames to look at the woman with the flaming bush of hair crowning her head. “So tell me, now, what it is you seek.”
“They do look nice, don't they?” she says quietly, her eyes still watching the women flickering towards the sky much like the flames of the fire.
“Yes they do,” he replied as he allowed his gaze to return to the fire as well.
“Don't they, though.” Her lips fumbled for a moment, seeming to fail in smiling briefly before her gaze returned to the man again, his golden orbs shifting back to her as well. “I am known as the Goddess of Blood Lust due to the fact that bringing others pain gives me great pleasure. Watching their blood flow makes me desire to bathe in it as I allow the lust to take over. It is the reason I have very few lovers. Not many survive encounters with me.” He was silent, though, listening to her words, so her volume shifted lower as she leaned partially across the table where they sat, both hands resting flat against the roughly cut wood. “I had a daughter once, though. The only man I was unable to treat in such a way. Is it possible for a woman like me to fall in love?”
“Love is a very strong word. For as strong as it is, it creates as equally weak people.”
“I would agree with you there, Investigator. I admit that such an emotion made me weak. Blood Lust keeps me in charge. With love, I lost all of who I was, including the respect of all others. I had a bloody daughter!” Her fist slammed on the table and a silence held the attention of the two before she slowly leaned back in her chair, relaxing into her seat once again as she recollected her thoughts. “I'm sorry.”
“No apologies needed.”
“Either way, this daughter of mine can not be out in the world as she is for much longer. I was angry at the time and left her with her father, but it is not the wisest of ideas now that I look back on it now.”
“So you want me to find her?”
“No. Yes. Not in the way you think. She could become dangerous. I would only like you to keep an eye on her and remove her if she seems to be creating too much trouble.”
“And what is it you would consider 'too much trouble'?” His hands clasped together, fingers knitting before resting in his lap neatly.
“I'm leaving that decision up to you, Sir.”
“A wise choice.”
“As well as how to dispose of the problem.”
“An even wiser choice. You play fair. A worthy opponent.”
“I don't need to be an opponent.” And with that she pushed out her chair and stood up, slowly moving away from the table. She turned suddenly back to him, back lit by the fire behind her so she appeared to be merely a silhouette. “What do you require in payment?”
“I will contact you about payment when I feel payment is necessary.” He, as well, moved to stand.
“A fair enough bargain. I'm certain I will be seeing you around, then.”
His gaze drifted back to that one dancer again, Aensa Xenthrope, watching as she bent over to collect the coins that were thrown before her on the ground, scooping them out of the dust and ashes. “I'm certain I will be around, seen or not.”
Once again her gaze followed his before flitting away from them both. “As you desire.” And with that she disappeared back in the quiet of her covered wagon.
