Deviant Mage Pt. 03 - Lower Lanovul

Gods, whatever this was must have smelled strong if she could still detect remnants of it, well over a minute after that meeting had dispersed. She found herself intrigued.

Should she actually care about what that meeting had been about? Was it her problem in any way? No. But she was curious. She'd interrupted 'important business' shady enough that they'd posted an actual lookout (probably more than one), and that intrigued her. Every person that who had been gathered here had scattered- this was a good spot to scatter, at a narrow intersection of similar alleys. Would that meeting (that deal?) re-group here once they knew she was gone, or would they have an alternative location?

She headed out of the alleyway and took a left, pretending she was minding her own business. Then she found a nook to hide in, and watched the alleyway's filthy cobbles with her shit-sense. After about five minutes, the group re-convened at the same location, though they looked to be down to four members. So, not the smartest criminals, but not terrible. At least they had lookouts.

Right. She approached where she could tell another lookout was posted, hiding in the gloom. She could that person's bare feet with her shit-sense. Fuck, that had to be cold. "Psst" she whispered when she was closer.

"What?" whispered a voice from the shadows. He sounded like a boy not yet in his teens.

"I'm interested in buyin' what they're selling, an' I got barter. Can I come in?"

The boy mulled that over a moment. "Are you that 'Stench' girl?"

Holy shit, her new name was actually spreading. "Yeah."

"Stay here." The boy knocked a couple sticks next to each other once, and then hurried over to the group. There was some discussion, and he hurried back. "What have you got to pay?"

Stench presented, dug freshly from one of her ragged dress's inner pockets, two tiny, heavily tarnished silver rings, sized for a little girl's fingers. One was set with a large piece of simply-carved rose quartz, the other was a plain but intricate puzzle ring, both given to her before her fall from grace. The only treasure she'd ever had. The boy held a shuttered candle to the pair of rings. It was hard to read his expression when she was almost entirely reliant on the technicolour germ-sense to see him, but she thought he looked vaguely impressed.

"Give 'em here."

"What, so you can just make off with 'em?"

"Hey, fuck you" he said sullenly. Maybe he'd planned to do just that.

"Just take me over there."

The sticks clattered again, and the boy gestured reluctantly for Stench to follow him over to the group. A shuttered lantern was pointed at her, and there were mutters of surprise and vague disgust from the group. She held up the two rings. She tried to appear casual, but was poised to flee (and possibly to get more creative than that) at the slightest provocation.

"Where'd ya steal those from?" asked a gruff man's voice.

"I got given 'em. I swear nobody's looking for 'em, for whatever my oath's worth."

"I say the oath of a perverted madwoman's worth shit-all."

Hmm, sounded like this guy had heard of her already. "I'd make for a pretty bad thief, man. They'd smell me coming a mile away. Maybe even literally."

Someone near her gave a chuckle, but it wasn't the person she was dealing with.

"Here. Show of good faith, and all." She presented the puzzle ring. "It's silver. Not sure how pure."

"Hmm..." The man took it. His fingers were fairly clean, compared to Stench's crusty hands. He shined his light on the ring. "This ain't cheap work. And you got 'given' it?"

"It's a long story. I could tell it, if you really want me to, but I doubt you'd believe half of it, and I think you've got better things to do."

The man grunted, then reached into his coat. "For both of 'em, I could give you this." He presented a modest-sized, very plain white-glazed clay pot, exactly the sort that they had in the Castle Lan kitchens for storing spices.

"I know that's a complete rip-off" Stench said matter-of-factly.

"I ain't-"

Stench wordlessly offered her rose quartz ring. "But I really don't like haggling. Buy shoes for that kid, maybe."

The man wordlessly took the ring, gave it a quick examination by candle-light, and then practically shoved the jar, whose contents Stench wasn't even sure of, towards her. She took it. It rattled dryly, and whatever was in it wasn't heavy.

"There. Pleasure doing business with you. Now get outta here."

"Uh..." the filthy girl was feeling pretty good about how smoothly that had gone, but there was a problem. "Sorry, but... how do I... use this stuff?"

The man was silent for a moment. "You've never smoked witch-hemp before, and you just gave me that for it?"

"I'm a madwoman. I'm allowed to be impulsive. And since I just paid a fuckin' premium, figure you owe me a favour or two now."

"I don't owe you shit" grated the man.

Stench suppressed a giggle. "If you shat on me, I'd actually consider that to be a favour."

There was more of that dumbfounded silence that tended to accompany Stench saying something particularly crazy, and that just made Stench have to work harder (and fail harder) at not laughing out loud.

"Go bother the lookout back there if you wanna fuckin' lesson" the man said, sounding exasperated. He gestured vaguely with his lantern towards the girl that Stench had first passed.

"Thank you, good sir. I shall remember your kindness."

"Piss off..."

Stench considered making a remark about how much she'd enjoy being pissed on, but decided that this guy had been reasonably civil with her, so she should avoid annoying him further. She sauntered over in the direction of the scout-girl.

"Oh, fuck me. It's you again?" grumbled the girl. She was leaning casually against a wall.

"Your boss said you could show me what to do with witch-hemp. Never tried it before." Stench showed her the jar. The light of a single distant window was enough to make it out by.

"Seriously? And you bought that much of it?"

"Saw the nice jar. Couldn't resist."

The girl muttered something under her breath. "I'll show you, but I ain't puttin' up with your stink for free."

"You want some?" Stench gestured at the jar.

"Uh..." the scout girl sounded like she was considering that. "Sure." She sounded a little eager. That seemed encouraging.

The jar's clay lid was sealed with what Stench assumed was wax, and it took some effort to break. The lookout girl cupped her hands, and Stench shook out some of the jar's contents. They were little clumps. Clusters of flowers? The smell of them was pungent and herbal. After Stench had shaken about ten of the clusters into the lookout girl's hands, she apparently deemed that enough. It had barely been an eighth of the jar.

The lookout girl rummaged in her pockets, took a crumpled sheet of thin paper, folded it a few times and tore a small rectangle off. She broke up one of the buds Stench had given her, pinching it apart with her thumb and forefinger, and then she carefully arranged the shredded herb into a line on the paper. With a practiced motion, she rolled the paper into a tube and licked it several times to seal it. The filthy girl saw what she did; there looked to be a practiced technique to it.

The girl then whispered for Stench to stay put, hurried over to where the meeting was taking place (after clacking the sticks together once) and came back with the tip of the tube of witch-hemp smoldering orange in the Long Night's gloom. Stench watched the ember brighten as the girl inhaled.

The lookout-girl returned to her post and took another short breath. The orange light of the burning ember provided the closest to a good look that Stench had had of the girl so far. Her grimy skin was lighter, and her wild hair far paler, than was typical for Lanofolk. Her face was angular, and her expression appeared to be a scowl by default, but slowly that disgruntled expression softened. Maybe it was the witch-hemp. She had a ring of silvery metal between her nostrils, and a bunch of empty holes in her ears.

She took another drag, exhaled with a sigh, then started to pass the smoldering tube to Stench. Then she stopped. Her face made an interesting expression that she no doubt assumed was hidden by the darkness. The girl was more than dirty enough that Stench's germ-sense could see the shape of her, but the splotchy luminous translucent technicolour image made it difficult to interpret something so subtle as an expression. Stench assumed it to mean that the lookout-girl didn't want to let Stench touch the tube that she smoked. Fair enough.

"I wanna have the last quarter of that witch-hemp. Really want to try it."

"You've seriously never had weed before?" the girl asked, exhaling smoke with every word, and the orange ember dimly yet dramatically illuminated her. It was an oddly beautiful scene, and Stench was very content to stand there and watch.

"First time I've even seen someone use it. Had all sorts of people tell me about how awful it is, though." She breathed in the smoke wafting her way. "Fuck those guys."

The girl gave a quiet 'heh' that nearly passed as laughter.

Stench liked the smell of the witch-hemp smoke even more than the herb itself, and wanted so much to try it. Everything she'd ever heard about witch-hemp had come from people who were offended by its very existence (shrine-types and family members), and the mere fact that they'd harped about the corrupting evils of all intoxicants (and used that as justification to fine anyone they caught using it into ruin, often accompanied with public humiliation) was all the encouragement Stench needed to be curious. But the lookout-girl had made a three-inch-long tube, and wasn't in a hurry to smoke it.

Waiting and watching her was oddly captivating, with the girl's form lit a dim orange every time she inhaled, suggesting her figure and garb. Few would call her a beauty, but Stench's standards were weird. She was thin, just shy of worryingly-so, wearing oversized boots packed with several pairs of socks, patched men's trousers with ragged hems, an oversized shirt pinned at the sleeves and a ragged coat that was too small for her. Far too small- it was tight on her and she couldn't do it up properly. She had little in the way of curves, but, quite accidentally, that tight coat was showing off what shape she did have.

She'd also probably never bathed in her life, and her clothes probably hadn't been changed in a season or more, so her body odor was as potent as someone's could reasonably be (Stench was well beyond the point of 'reasonable'.) Most people would say the girl smelled awful, but Stench disagreed. She disagreed hard.

The darkness meant that the lookout-girl, whose name was still a mystery, couldn't have known that Stench was staring, breathing in her stink. And that between her smell, her figure, something about her attitude, and the display she made of smoking weed, Stench could feel her pussy moisten. A couple times, the girl blew a cloud of smoke Stench's way. Stench tried to be discrete about how happy she was to inhale smoke that had just been in the other girl's lungs.

"Figured you were high already, comin' here lookin' like that..." the lookout girl muttered.

"Wait, 'high?' Is that what you call being intoxicated with... weed?"

More silence. And then, to Stench's surprise, the lookout girl handed her the smoldering cylinder. Just under half of it still remained. "You know, I think I've had enough of this joint. Don't wanna be too out of it while I'm on lookout. You can have the rest. Don't let it go out." There was something mildly yet unmistakably sinister in her tone.

Stench took the half-smoked 'joint'. Right. Something was up, apparently. She even was fairly sure she knew what. The first time she'd ever snuck a cup of needle tea, a single cup had made her jittery, even though there were servants who drank nothing but the stuff all day and didn't seem to notice. She was distantly aware that alcohol was similar, so it was presumably the same with witch-hemp. All she knew about witch-hemp was how it was supposed to corrupt people's very souls, make sane people go mad, and supposedly drive people to impure thoughts and deeds of lust, gluttony and sloth. Whatever it actually did, it was going to hit her hard. She suddenly felt a little trepidation about smoking it.

But then she jammed the thing between her lips and took a slow, shallow breath. She'd been paying attention to how the lookout-girl did it. The taste had interesting nuances that the smell had only hinted at, and it lingered in her mouth after she exhaled. "That's good shit" she said smokily, then took another, deeper, drag.

"Are you kidding me, this crap's skunky as fuck..." muttered the girl, apparently more to herself than to Stench.

"So what's your game? You wanna see me make an ass of myself, first time I smoke this stuff?"

There was silence.

"Were you assuming I'm stupid?" Stench asked casually.

"Yes. Cus there ain't no one smart who goes around covered in manure."

"It's fun. You should try it sometime. You'd smell even better after."

There was a moment of baffled silence, before the girl sidled away with a low muttering of 'ugh'. But she couldn't go too far, because she was still on watch. Stench was tempted to edge closer to her, just to be annoying.

Apparently, their conversation was over. Too bad, but oh well. Stench kept smoking the joint, enjoying the sensuality and the sheer forbiddeness, until the ember reached her fingertips. Then she let the smoldering end fall into the filthy slush at her feet, vaguely saddened that a little of the weed had gone unsmoked. She felt like she could feel the residue of the fragrant smoke coating the inside of her lungs. She'd just dirtied a part of herself it hadn't even occurred to her could be dirtied until now, and it felt great.

She had no idea what to expect of getting 'high'. Her head was already starting to feel fuzzy. Her thoughts felt like they were more erratic. The nuances of the myriad stenches around her grew more pronounced. Her lust, already stoked for reasons that she was still processing, bloomed further.

Fuck, the effects of this weed were incredible.

She suddenly had a pang of worry, as she considered the thing she had sworn not to do. And whether this stuff might make her more tempted to try something stupid. She tried to remind herself of all the reasons that her crazy not-actually-a-plan was an utterly terrible idea.

Except, now that she found herself thinking about it in this new frame of mind, the problems with her idea didn't seem so insurmountable anymore.

"I'll see you again, oh beautiful girl without a name! Let me tell you next time we meet all about how tonight's adventures went! For I vow that there shall be a next time!" Stench flourished her arms dramatically. She wasn't sure why she felt so inclined to speak like someone in a melodramatic romance novel, but felt no need to question this impulse.

"All... right then." The scout-girl looked at her askance "Have a good fucking night, 'Stench'."

"Oh, I intend to."

"Hope everything goes well!"

"I'm sure it will! And I have you to thank!"

"You're making too much noise. Piss off."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to piss on me?"

The lookout girl went completely silent again.

"I'm joking. You can laugh. Been wanting to use that line."

"Will you just go away?"

Stench decided to stand completely still for a good half-minute before eventually deciding to leave, just to show that she wasn't leaving because the mystery-girl wanted her to leave, but because she had decided to go.

As Stench headed off, she fully intended to make due on that threat to see that mystery girl again.

(Completely unbenounced to Stench thanks to the darkness, yet very much as intended, the street-girl was blushing crimson under the dirt on her face.)

This was not the first time Stench had found herself... unusually interested in a girl. Or a boy, for that matter, but it was normal for teenaged girls to be interested in boys. Her interest in other girls, though, had become very clear to her in the early days of the filthy sexual awakening that everyone else referred to as her 'transgressions'. Still coming to terms with her deviant sexuality, the girl that had been Lyran had developed a crush on a particularly dirty serf-girl who had been involved with the unenviable task of emptying the Castle Lan cesspool, and to her utter shock at the time, the serf-girl had happily reciprocated then-Lyran's confused advances. They'd had a bit of fun together.

Then-Lyran had assumed that her attraction to the girl was due to some kind of perverted madness on her part, she'd literally never heard of such a thing before and was baffled by her own desires, but that girl (her name was Milva...) had acted like there was absolutely nothing unusual about their mutual attraction, and had considered it amusing that then-Lyran had felt otherwise. Then-Lyran had never seen that girl again; probably just as well. At least Dovian hadn't found out about that...

When things had been bad, the memories of that day had been one of the things that had kept Lyran going.

Now Stench couldn't stop recalling the lovely scene of that street-girl's barely-seen form, lit by the dim orange light of a burning witch-hemp ember. Stench wanted to see more of her. She wanted the girl close to her. Very close. To appreciate every detail of her, her stink merely one of many parts of her to know intimately...

The thing was, though, Stench probably shouldn't have been attracted to that mystery street girl. She'd been kind of...mean. She'd given Stench half of a witch-hemp joint, with the full expectation that Stench would do something stupid once she'd smoked it, and the girl had been straight-up amused at the prospect.

But now Stench wanted, very much, to do something stupid. Because she was certain it wasn't actually stupid to do it.

Now that she had smoked that witch-hemp, Stench couldn't stop replaying a bunch of the crazy things she'd done already. They'd been scary in the moment, but the sheer audacity that she'd done them, and that dozens of people knew about what she'd done? That felt good. But she knew she could do better.

She had wanted to do something amazingly disgusting, but didn't have the guts. Something that would draw the attention of hundreds of people. Something all of Lanovale would never stop talking about. Why exactly had she been so afraid of trying it, again? Because it was risky? Because things could go wrong?! If she'd never taken any risks, she'd wouldn't be where she was today!

(Just to punctuate that thought, Stench strained slightly, and farted loudly in the darkness, a smirk on her face.)

That dirty street girl had expected Stench to make an ass of herself while stoned for the first time, huh? Might as well exceed her expectations!

Stench left the truly terrible part of Lower behind her (entering the part of it that was merely rough) as she pondered and fantasized in roughly equal measure. Gods, the more she thought about gallivanting naked and covered in shit around Lower, the more she had to do it. The more she felt like she'd always had to do it, and had been kidding herself to think otherwise!

She reached a dark neighborhood in Lower Lanovul that was directly uphill from one of the walled-off posh neighborhoods, one that was poor but not desperately so. She climbed over a sturdy wooden fence that had been built between this modest neighborhood and the richer properties downhill, presumably so that nobody up here could snoop on the rich fucks below them. As Stench climbed (she'd used crap from her pouch that was a mix of her shit and cow shit), she noted how much easier it was to imagine the dung on her hands doing what she required of it, presumably thanks to how her exciting new mental state made her imagination so much more vivid.