~Elena~
My momentary glimpse of light was blinded when we entered Volantis, where the smell of sweat and piss burned my nose, the crush of to many bodies unnerving. Slaves. I'd heard of this place through tales passed on merchant lips, but their stories did not bring with it the sight of chains clasped around bruised necks and silent tears that slipped along dirt coated cheeks. Who could treat a person this way? My mind played images of Tywin Lannister, my heart thumping painfully as phantom fingers ghosted along my skin. No. I shut a steel door on such pointless thoughts and turned back to Tyrion who was walking easily amongst the down trod, a flask of wine to his lips. Foreign words spoke above the noise as I looked to find a growing group of slaves gathered around a beautiful woman in red. Her black hair gathered out of her slender face, hands gesturing as she spoke of a secret tale not shared with me, but that I knew was important as she caught everyone's attention, including Varys who held an uneasy expression.
"Perhaps we should leave." He announced softly to no one as Tyrion disappeared into the crowd. Idiot. I raged as I followed Varys, praying to the gods he wouldn't be dead when we found him.
"There." Varys sighed as he pointed to a set of stairs where Tyrion watched the woman with rapt attention.
"The only red priest we had in King's Landing was Thoros of Myr. This one's much better looking." He slurred as he took another deep drink of his flask. I cast another glance at her and let myself see through his eyes. Her slender body draped in mystery, face unfamiliar and welcoming.
"Stone Men. Good luck stopping the spread of grey scale with the word of prayer. You'd have better luck dancing away the plague." I'd heard of Stone Men before. Men who's skin had been ravaged and minds stolen so they'd become nothing but savage beasts. Before, I thought they were nothing more than characters made up to make children behave, but Tyrion seemed to think they were real. The priestess raised her arms with a triumphant smile as Tyrion gasped with feigned shock.
"We're going to meet the Savior, you should have told me. Who doesn't want to meet the savior?" As if drawn by his words the priestess stopped her sermon and stared up at Tyrion, her gaze paralyzing. He draw his hood closer about his face, breaking the spell. It was only then that I noticed I'd removed my knife, knuckles white against the leather bond handle.
"Come on, let's find a brothel."