Nero was tired and filthy as he approached Kirkwall. He couldn't remember for the life of him when the last time he had a real sleep was, certainly it was sometime before his escape.
His nerves were kept calm by the forced of willpower and the other people making their way to the city - he was grateful for the bodies hiding him from prying eyes, and kept one of his own eyes out for any suspicious figures in the crowd. Nero found myself surrounded by small families with their caravans holding goods that he could only assume they meant to sell. Or maybe most of them planned to move here, he couldn't tell.
It was difficult not to listen to the conversations around him, and a part of him reveled in the sound, being in the woods is nice, but he did often find himself missing the sound of conversation and civilization. He especially missed warm baths and soft beds. But mostly baths. He wrinkled his nose at himself, Maker, am I ever dirty.
"I heard that the Ferelden refugees started leaving."
"Well I would hope so, the blight is over isn't it? Was it really even a blight? What kind of blight only lasts a year?"
A laugh. "The good kind, I would say. Maybe Kirkwall will start smelling more like the Free Marches again instead of wet dog like it has for the past year or so."
"Your exaggerating pa, it only smells like that in Darktown...actually I think it smells worse than that in Darktown. It smelled terrible there before the Fereldens infested it."
"Well, maybe so, but I can assure you there were a lot less muggings before the Fereldens. I hate wasting our income on mercenaries just so we don't get jumped."
"Pretty soon the muggers are going to realize that we're only being protected once we reach the city walls and they'll start attacking us on this path."
"Quiet girl, don't tempt fate. I can't handle the idea of having a mercenary with us all the time. It would get so expensive..."
"I wouldn't mind if it was Hawke. Maker, he's gorgeous. Do you happen to know who Meeran sent for us this time?"
"I don't know, and I don't care so long as they do the job."
Nero stopped paying attention to the conversation happening in front of him and found himself falling back to walk behind the caravan, as opposed to beside it like he had been. Once again he found his thoughts drifting. He tried to imagine what the Hanged Man would be like. He was hoping it wasn't a complete dung-hole. He had heard of it while he was in Starkhaven, huddling under a window of a seedy bar wrapped in his dirty, ragged cloak, hoping to hear what he could of Kirkwall or Ostwick. Nero preferred to have a bit of an idea of the place he was walking into, so he didn't look so lost and confused that someone would notice him and offer assistance or take advantage of the newcomer.
Conveniently there was a man who seemed to be going on a vacation of sorts to Kirkwall and was looking for the best place to stay and the best places for fun.
"Well, the only places I know of to stay are the Blooming Rose in Hightown, but they are relatively expensive...and by relatively I mean very. Then in Lowtown there is the Hanged Man's pub. Their ale is apparently an acquired taste but the rooms are cheap and decent. If your going there for entertainment though I don't imagine you'll be spending much time in your room anyway." The bartender laughed and continued describing Kirkwall.
Nero had learned of the Gallows, Lowtown, Hightown and Darktown. And was exceedingly grateful that he had some idea of what to expect when he got there, and to avoid Darktown altogether... he had no desire to get into a fight with this 'Coterie' organization and there didn't appear to be anything worth going down there for.
Nero got into Kirkwall and found Lowtown without any problem. He was a little overwhelmed by all of the people, but found the Hanged Man soon enough and although it was less than impressive he found the employees to be appreciated. They didn't ask questions, which he was grateful for, and when he asked for a bath to be drawn up in his room the man smiled but said he would send some water up as soon as possible.
He passed by a room with the door open where a dwarf was telling a story to a small enraptured crowd. He found himself staring for a moment more than was appropriate. Luckily said dwarf didn't seem to notice him. This was the first time Nero had ever seen a dwarf, they were not particularly common in the Imperium. But he had always been under the impression that they had thick beards, and this one didn't appear to have any facial hair at all.
Nero mentally shrugged, sometimes people get their facts wrong.
He found his room to be comfortable enough, not too small and not too big. He was relieved that there wasn't a window, one less point of entry for the hunters. When the servants finally came to fill the tub he gratefully stripped off his weapons and armor after draping his cloak on a chair. He took his dullest and thickest knife and, after closing the door, jammed it in the crack between the door and the frame so it would be more difficult to open from the other side.
Before getting into the bath he caught his reflection in the water, his black hair tangled and stringy looking after being dirty and windswept for so long. He was sure that if he could brush it out successfully it would at least reach his shoulders, when he had escaped the Imperium it had been a short shag but he couldn't be bothered to cut it. It was almost nice to be able to let his hair do what it wanted, after so long of it having to look a certain way...even if it was a mess.
He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or just that he was dirty but his skin looked quite a bit more tanned than it used to - more than he had expected. He had already been quite tanned before he left the Imperium, afternoons spent in the sun will do that to a person.
Esperance would be pleased. He grimaced at the thought.
When his body was designed it was meant to be aesthetically pleasing to the Archon's eye. He happened to have a thing for the lanky elf bodies and their ears. So for the most part Nero appeared elven. However he had a very human face and occasionally someone - usually an elf - would notice that he wasn't quite right. And if they looked to long and too closely they would notice that his eyes were purple. Which was not a common occurrence in any species that he was aware of.
Nero recalled Esperance telling him one that they had expected him to have dark blue eyes, but when he was melded with the body they had chosen for him his iris's had changed color, although sometimes the blue did appear, when he was drawing a lot from the river.
While in the Imperium he found that oftentimes when a magister was inspecting his creator's work - namely himself - that they were initially unnerved by the purple coloring. This was one of the many reasons he wore his cloak; to hide his ears and eyes as much as possible and to hide his armor and daggers.
He drew his mind from these thoughts and slipped into the warm tub. He tried not to moan too loudly, but the warmth covering every inch of his body was better than an orgasm.
Nero allowed myself to relax till he almost fell asleep, then after quickly but thoroughly washing himself he dragged his body out of the tub and passed out on the bed, not bothering to put any clothing on or get under the blankets. He slept deeply, and for that he was grateful since he knew it wouldn't be long before his hunters were in the city and he would have to be on his guard.