Chapter Text
Silv panted with exertion as he followed the Lem River, the only companion that he could stand to travel with. It provided not only an endless supply of clean water, so clear that he could see swaying figures of every fish through its surface, but a respite from the difficulties of navigation. All he had to focus on was heading downstream, keeping a tight grip on the handles of his cart loaded with his few personal possessions, many tailoring supplies, and a sack heaving with pieces of silver.
His blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, keeping it from drooping into his face as he inspected the ground for any trip hazards. He was dressed for the journey in a green blouse and relaxed beige trousers, both loose and breathable to help with the heat; elves produced very little sweat, something that made travelling on warm days hard on him, but he desperately needed to put distance between himself and the single-minded community he'd been confined to for most of the spring.
He'd just finished a major commission for the Stoneborn Collective, a strange group of sterile orcs who had made it their lives' mission to conceive a child together. He didn't care to ask how that worked; he only cared about what designs he could make for them, hoping for something exciting.
To his dismay, they'd asked for forty-one sets of grey robes.
Now that he thought about it, it was probably a cult, but did it matter? They were kind enough to grant him a room to live in while he worked on their clothes, and to accompany him to the nearby market in Anzir whenever he ran out of linen. He'd wanted to go alone, but they insisted: there was an elven brothel nearby that many of the townspeople frequented, and they didn't want him to face any undue attention.
While this trip hadn't been Silv's first visit to Anzir, it was the first time that he knew why he'd always had orcs in the streets asking after his services, and then losing interest when he talked about his trade. He was simply too much of a professional to think that they were trying to proposition him when he was clearly carrying fabric or clothing at any given time. When he had an orc by his side, he didn't have to deal with that conversation; he just had to deal with the ogling from a distance, the eyes on him like he was some submissive. If only they knew what he was like when he wasn't at work.
Despite how welcoming the Collective had been, he'd quickly grown bored of his daily routine. Those robes added up to a hefty strain on his need for variety, and he so longed to be in new places, making new designs, that he hadn't taken nearly enough breaks towards the end. His body felt that ache now as he tugged his heavy cart, especially with its leather handles wearing through and causing the wood of the shafts to rub against his palms; he needed to repair those.
More importantly, he needed to rest. There was still another hour of walking to go until he reached Salmin Town, and he'd already walked through the entire morning, only taking brief stops to have some water and stretch out his stiff back.
He redirected his cart to the side of the road, locked the wheel in position, and wearily collapsed into the grass. Before he allowed his hands a break, he reached down to untie his boots, sighing contentedly as he kicked them off and lay down. The river trickling in the background reminded him that he hadn't relieved himself in a while, but he could rest here a little longer before finding somewhere secluded.
For a while he watched sparse clouds drift past, feeling some of the tension between his brows lessening. He hadn't realised until he stopped moving quite how much stress his body was holding. No matter how much he loved what he did, he was in dire need of a holiday, which was exactly why he was headed towards Salmin Town, an excellent place for relaxing and partying alike.
He had a few friends there, some of whom he even had... additional arrangements with. Those were normally a spontaneous indulgence, but spending so much time living alongside people who were quite talkative about their 'rituals' had left him quite pent up. All he'd had for such a long time was his hand on the few nights that he still had strength left in his wrist, and he yearned for someone else's attention between his legs.
His eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself a few wandering thoughts of desire. The gentle brushing of grass against his arms and the warmth of the sun drew him into relaxation, and further still into sleep.