William and Cashmere Callahan | The Desert Rose Bordello
|Kismet|
Cashmere often went to the trade market with eggs from their chickens, or furs from their rabbits. They were simple enough things to trade and barter, so her father found it easy to trust her with the task. Cashmere considered herself grown enough to be charged with more important things, but all in all it gave her time after to goof off. So she did just that when her eggs and furs were gone and she gave what she'd gotten for them to her father.
For Cashmere, goofing off meant trailing through the crowd and seeing what things other people were trying to offer. Scavenged textiles, and dried meats. Handcrafted this and that; sometimes even livestock.
Someone had recently found a trunk of silk scarves, and was trying to trade them off at much too high a price. Sure, they were pretty, but no one really had a need for silk scarves. Cashmere saw a woman, or perhaps just a girl, lingering in front of the trunk and running one of the scarves through her fingers. Cashmere wasn't really interested in observing the scene for too long, but found herself doing a double take when the woman turned and Cashmere saw the ugly purple bruises that surrounded her eye and her jaw.
Cashmere thought about the woman quite a bit in the weeks that passed. She sought her out at each market day and every time her injuries seemed to be worse. The day that Cashmere saw her split lip, and eye swollen shut, she had seen enough.
"Daddy," she starts softly at dinner, pushing potatoes around with her fork. Thinking about the woman caused her to lose her appetite.
"You finally ready to tell me what's been eating at you this past week?" was his response between bites. Conversation across the table seemed to hush, courtesans did love their gossip. "There's a girl at the market," her tone was clear, but her words were rushed, threatening to stumble over one another. "She there every other day. Someone's been beating on her real bad, daddy, and I don't like it."
William set his fork down with a sigh. Pushing his own plate aside to lean on the table and look across it to his daughter. "And what of it Cashmere?" It's not that he did not empathize with his daughter's concerns, he just usually did not go sticking his nose in the business of others.
"You gotta help her, Daddy," she stood quickly, chair scraping across the paneled flooring. "Please, daddy. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one."
The others eyes at the table turned from Cashmere to William to gauge his response.
"This is really that important to you?"
"Yes."
William leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his neck, a common thoughtful gesture.
"Okay. I will see what I can do."
|Alder|
"Daddy," Cashmere leaned on one of the fence posts, that kept all the desert hares together. "I saw a man at the market selling his services as a mechanic."
She watched as he he gathered a rabbit by the scruff. Likely to be used for that night's stew. "What of it?" His deep voice seemed to echo, he turned away from his daughter as he snapped the rabbit's neck with a twist of his wrists.
Cashmere grimaced. "Nothing if it," she returns, with more sass that was really necessary. "He's real, real pretty though. Got nice yellow hair and sparkly blue eyes." She wiggled her brows in William's direction as if her implications should have been obvious.
William chuckled.
"I will talk to him."
|Vegas|
It was well past dark when the scavenger showed up at the Bordello. William had been organizing bottles beneath the bar, when he came storming in, a young woman in tow. He dragged her by the arm, and she followed, though she did appear a bit unwilling. William stood to his full height and glared at the pair of them when the stopped in the middle of the common room.
"What's all this now?" He gestures with his free hand, his tone rang accusatory in the silence of the bar. The haggard man seemed to toss the girl in William's direction. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the opposite end of the counter.
William could see now that she pale skin, marked with bruises and dirt. Coal black hair, and terrified eyes that she hid behind her bangs.
"How much will you give me for her?"
William crossed his arms over his chest. "What? Nothing. I am not going to buy her from you."
"I found her wandering in New Vegas. This is a whorehouse ain't it? She could be a whore."
"She doesn't look any older than sixteen."
"Well, if your not going to buy her, I am going to sell her to the bandits."
William opened his mouth to speak, but a quiet call lilted from the stairwell to interrupt him.
Daddy..."
It was that one word, soft, and simple. That removed the authoritative mask from William's features. He dropped his arms with a sigh, and stared down at the girl. She hunched her shoulders and avoided his gaze.
"Get out of here. Leave the girl."
"I ain't leaving until I get PAID!"
William pulled his shotgun from beneath the bar and propped it up against his shoulder.
"The only thing I am willing to pay you in is your life. Now, get the fuck out of here. I won't say it again."
The man's hands rose in an automatic gesture of surrender and he backed up towards the door. "Buncha bullshit is what this is. Fucking bullshit."
When the man was gone, William placed the shotgun back in it's place beneath the bar. Cashmere rushed down the stairs, and immediately came to the raven-haired girl's side. She cowered away, instantly, raising her arms defensively.
"It's okay," Cashmere, reassures, placing a gentle hand on the dark crown of her head. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe now."
The girl crumpled to the ground in a pile of shaking sobs. Cashmere followed her down, curling up close and wrapping an arm around her waist. Cashmere murmured reassurances until she calmed down. William watched silently. His daughter made a habit of this; collecting broken and lost souls to take care of as if they were own kin. Her desire to mother others, coming from her lack of one. "Why don't you go get her cleaned up?"
Cashmere drew the washcloth in slow circles across thin, pale shoulders. The water that had once been hot and clear was now lukewarm and tinted with dirt and blood. "So, what's your name?" Cashmere's question went unanswered and she washed soap out of black tresses. "It's okay. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you gotta have something for me to call you."
More silence. Cashmere stood to get a towel. She sat down at the edge of the tub again, pulling the plug so the water could drain. When it was emptied she wrapped the soft towel around the girl.
"Well, then. For now, I guess I'll just call you Vegas."
|Kismet|
Cashmere often went to the trade market with eggs from their chickens, or furs from their rabbits. They were simple enough things to trade and barter, so her father found it easy to trust her with the task. Cashmere considered herself grown enough to be charged with more important things, but all in all it gave her time after to goof off. So she did just that when her eggs and furs were gone and she gave what she'd gotten for them to her father.
For Cashmere, goofing off meant trailing through the crowd and seeing what things other people were trying to offer. Scavenged textiles, and dried meats. Handcrafted this and that; sometimes even livestock.
Someone had recently found a trunk of silk scarves, and was trying to trade them off at much too high a price. Sure, they were pretty, but no one really had a need for silk scarves. Cashmere saw a woman, or perhaps just a girl, lingering in front of the trunk and running one of the scarves through her fingers. Cashmere wasn't really interested in observing the scene for too long, but found herself doing a double take when the woman turned and Cashmere saw the ugly purple bruises that surrounded her eye and her jaw.
Cashmere thought about the woman quite a bit in the weeks that passed. She sought her out at each market day and every time her injuries seemed to be worse. The day that Cashmere saw her split lip, and eye swollen shut, she had seen enough.
"Daddy," she starts softly at dinner, pushing potatoes around with her fork. Thinking about the woman caused her to lose her appetite.
"You finally ready to tell me what's been eating at you this past week?" was his response between bites. Conversation across the table seemed to hush, courtesans did love their gossip. "There's a girl at the market," her tone was clear, but her words were rushed, threatening to stumble over one another. "She there every other day. Someone's been beating on her real bad, daddy, and I don't like it."
William set his fork down with a sigh. Pushing his own plate aside to lean on the table and look across it to his daughter. "And what of it Cashmere?" It's not that he did not empathize with his daughter's concerns, he just usually did not go sticking his nose in the business of others.
"You gotta help her, Daddy," she stood quickly, chair scraping across the paneled flooring. "Please, daddy. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one."
The others eyes at the table turned from Cashmere to William to gauge his response.
"This is really that important to you?"
"Yes."
William leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his neck, a common thoughtful gesture.
"Okay. I will see what I can do."
|Alder|
"Daddy," Cashmere leaned on one of the fence posts, that kept all the desert hares together. "I saw a man at the market selling his services as a mechanic."
She watched as he he gathered a rabbit by the scruff. Likely to be used for that night's stew. "What of it?" His deep voice seemed to echo, he turned away from his daughter as he snapped the rabbit's neck with a twist of his wrists.
Cashmere grimaced. "Nothing if it," she returns, with more sass that was really necessary. "He's real, real pretty though. Got nice yellow hair and sparkly blue eyes." She wiggled her brows in William's direction as if her implications should have been obvious.
William chuckled.
"I will talk to him."
|Vegas|
It was well past dark when the scavenger showed up at the Bordello. William had been organizing bottles beneath the bar, when he came storming in, a young woman in tow. He dragged her by the arm, and she followed, though she did appear a bit unwilling. William stood to his full height and glared at the pair of them when the stopped in the middle of the common room.
"What's all this now?" He gestures with his free hand, his tone rang accusatory in the silence of the bar. The haggard man seemed to toss the girl in William's direction. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the opposite end of the counter.
William could see now that she pale skin, marked with bruises and dirt. Coal black hair, and terrified eyes that she hid behind her bangs.
"How much will you give me for her?"
William crossed his arms over his chest. "What? Nothing. I am not going to buy her from you."
"I found her wandering in New Vegas. This is a whorehouse ain't it? She could be a whore."
"She doesn't look any older than sixteen."
"Well, if your not going to buy her, I am going to sell her to the bandits."
William opened his mouth to speak, but a quiet call lilted from the stairwell to interrupt him.
Daddy..."
It was that one word, soft, and simple. That removed the authoritative mask from William's features. He dropped his arms with a sigh, and stared down at the girl. She hunched her shoulders and avoided his gaze.
"Get out of here. Leave the girl."
"I ain't leaving until I get PAID!"
William pulled his shotgun from beneath the bar and propped it up against his shoulder.
"The only thing I am willing to pay you in is your life. Now, get the fuck out of here. I won't say it again."
The man's hands rose in an automatic gesture of surrender and he backed up towards the door. "Buncha bullshit is what this is. Fucking bullshit."
When the man was gone, William placed the shotgun back in it's place beneath the bar. Cashmere rushed down the stairs, and immediately came to the raven-haired girl's side. She cowered away, instantly, raising her arms defensively.
"It's okay," Cashmere, reassures, placing a gentle hand on the dark crown of her head. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe now."
The girl crumpled to the ground in a pile of shaking sobs. Cashmere followed her down, curling up close and wrapping an arm around her waist. Cashmere murmured reassurances until she calmed down. William watched silently. His daughter made a habit of this; collecting broken and lost souls to take care of as if they were own kin. Her desire to mother others, coming from her lack of one. "Why don't you go get her cleaned up?"
Cashmere drew the washcloth in slow circles across thin, pale shoulders. The water that had once been hot and clear was now lukewarm and tinted with dirt and blood. "So, what's your name?" Cashmere's question went unanswered and she washed soap out of black tresses. "It's okay. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you gotta have something for me to call you."
More silence. Cashmere stood to get a towel. She sat down at the edge of the tub again, pulling the plug so the water could drain. When it was emptied she wrapped the soft towel around the girl.
"Well, then. For now, I guess I'll just call you Vegas."
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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