FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

With the morning sun rising in the sky, the mists and chill of the night slowly evaporated upon the opening stalls and vendors. The thin, gangly shepherd made her way down the cobblestone street, dressed in all she had, looking over the available stalls. She rubbed at her crooked snout, grimacing slightly as she hurried on past one grilling food upon an open flame. Her stomach twisted enough as it was, from the breakfast stew the huntress had offered her. She had to eat, the wolf knew this, but as her stomach clenched enough to make her swallow back bitter bile, Majorra wondered if her belt could hold another man-made hole. Coming to a slow stop, she gazed ahead of her and breathed in the cold morning air to steady herself, looking at the various stalls to get a good view of the ones available to her.

The stalls were poorly decorated with the lingering scents of dirt and fresh produce. One stall was littered with baskets, a few elderly woman sitting behind it, their hands busily reproducing the same basket. Another stall sold jewelry, small bracelets wound together with leather. But the stones were dull. The furthest stall in the roundish market, was closed, with a sign that stated so in front of it.

Rubbing at her snout again, thick eyebrows pulled together in concern as she looked about. Slowly nearing the basket weavers, the wolf lowered her arm as her best smile graced her features, her gait shifting from someone with a purpose, to a lopy shuffle, rolling her shoulders and putting her hands in her pockets, "Good morning, ladies." She stood beside the cart, tilting her head as her dark curls spilled over her shoulder, "I'm new here, ah... is this all of the marketplace?"

The first old lady looks up from her work, her face wrinkled, and her eyes squinting, "This is where we sell what we do. This is what you are looking for, isn't it?" She smiles, her skin pulling tightly, as she places a basket upon the stall's surface. Sliding it towards the wolfess, "They're only a few copper pieces, quite the steal. But you best buy them all if you want the entire set." She coughs, quietly.

The wolf leaned forward and sniffed at the basket, lifting her head and grinning toothily at the woman, "It is beautiful work. I actually came through the market to find clothing, and a place to sell things as well. If I can barter a few coins extra, I'd love a basket." She tilted her head at it, her sloped ears lifting, "Things crafted with a loving hand are becoming rarer. Did you learn this from your mother?" She looked back to sweep her crimson view about the marketplace again, then rested upon the old women, "Is it always so very.. ah, quiet?"

A few lines of the old lady's face pull tight, as she releases an "Mmmhmm." Her wrinkled hands returned to her lap, "If you're looking for shops, the castle is the place to be, sonny. But I wouldn't go there if I were you. And stay away from any shady place. Best to buy all of the baskets while we have them, too." She slowly nods her head, "And she learned it from her mother. But since you want to buy them for more coins, I'll up it to 4 coppers a piece." A few gaps between her teeth show as she smiles.

The wolf blinked, her sloped ears lifting as she laughed, "Oh, thank you." She turned her head towards the castle again, then glanced back to the old women, "I need to sell a few things first, then. But why can't I go to the castle?" She eyed the old women's clothes, reaching to touch her own poncho, "Do you know anywhere I could buy a tunic? Or anything, really. This outfit is scratchy."

"Their prices are terrible" retorts the old lady. The other two nod in agreement, while the first old lady squints, eyeing the wolfess's clothing, "I do...and since you're handsome lad, I'll show you for free." The old lady lifts up a shaking finger, pointing down the cobblestoned street. A few buildings crowded themselves around the street, the nearest to the left having a half-rotting sign of a fat man holding a mug, "There. I'm sure the tailor is in there."

Realization flooded the wolf's face, her dark lips pulling into a grin of hardly contained laughter,"Ah! Heh, th, thank you, belle demoiselle" She cleared her throat and gently took the woman's hand in hers, bending forward and grazing her scruffy chin against it before kissing her fingers gently. The shepherd turned to rush off before the inevitable pleasant or alarming response followed, heading to the tailor. She pushed up the brim of her hat to peer at the sign, frowning and pushing her way in carefully,"Bonjour...? Hello?"

The old lady pulled her hand slowly from the wolfess's, color pinking her pale cheeks, "What a nice young man." The street was fairly empty, and the door to the building opened with the scent of heavy drinking and musk. A ragged-looking fellow had just cleared his throat as Majorra pushed the door open, his spit hitting the table, as his rag collects dust and dirt upon it. Nearby, sitting on a stool, was a busty maiden, her hair tied in a worn bow. Her off-red locks were the brightest color within the tavern, her corset top revealing the bare, top curve of her breasts. She wore a wide dress-bottom, the stool hardly seen underneath. Both figures look towards the wolfess as she enters, but the keeper returns to cleaning the table.

The familiar scents of depravity and musty shame hit her senses, the wolf smirking a bit as she stepped inside. Of Course, this wasn't a tailor, the shepherd chuckling as she pushed back her hat a bit and looked to the two, her throat suddenly dry. She remembered briefly, the bottle of rum she kept hidden away beneath her mattress, burned away to oblivion. What a shame. The wolf cleared her throat and lifted her arms, grinning amiably,"My people!" And stepped on in. The lonely tavern was fitting to her, enjoying the low light and lack of crowds of scummy sailors gawking at her funky eye, or scowling when she joined a card game. She neared the bar, sitting one stool away from the woman. One hazy red eye lingered on the color of her hair, the hug of her corset, then cleared her throat as she offered a grin to the man cleaning tables, "A crazy woman told me this was a tailor. If it's true, may I suggest, that liquoring up your customers before fitting them for an outfit is genius."

Barkeep stops, looking at the wolfess, "Huh? He comes by, every now and then." He rubs his nose on his sleeve, leaning on the countertop, "You want something to drink?" The maiden eyes the wolfess, her form leaning forward, after she rotated upon her stool, "I've been waitin' such a long time for 'im. He's supposed to come by and fix my dresses stichin's." Releasing an exasperated huff, she straightens, placing her hands upon her waist, "A girl can't get by without eatin' a little more than she's supposed to, and 'ere I am, with no one but the ol' barkeep to talk to."

The wolf was careful to touch as little as possible, acutely aware the entire place probably had a good layer of the keeper's own brand of polish. She tilted her head back at the woman, suddenly very aware of the girl's 'problem', shifting into creep mode as her gaze lingered over what little figure the large dress had to offer. Grinning to herself, the wolf scratched at her scruffy chin as she slid on over one stool closer, "If you have anything free, I'd love to. Otherwise, I'll just wait for the tailor." Long dark curls cascading over her shoulder as she smiled at the woman, "I think the dress suits you wonderfully. Very flattering." She rest her chin upon her hands, leaning upon her elbows as the wolf looked at what was immediately around the bar, "I'm newish to the area.. I hadn't visited the castle town before. Why is it all so quiet?"

The maiden's stockings could be seen, just below the knee, as the dress attempted to stretch over her bottom half. Barkeep grunts, returning to cleaning the countertop. The maiden's lips pulled into a smile, her hand daintily folding, "My, you are a charmer! Too bad the men about 'ere aren't half as charmin'." Behind Barkeep, two rows of shelves held strange, dark bottles. To the left, a room's half open door, the shadows almost hiding the hole in the ground. To the right, a set of worn stairs leading upward. The maiden's form leans upon the countertop, eyeing the wolfess's clothing, "That 'splains it. You don't smell like the others, and your tongue is polite." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, "Most of the folk packed up and left to set up shop in the castle itself. Much better business."

Thick eyebrows rose, and the wolf snorted, "I've... It's been awhile since I've been so complimented on my /smell/." She turned to press her snout to her shoulder, breathing in, the natural scents of sheep dander and hay many shades more pleasant than the ever present musk of the shoddy little tavern. She turned back towards the woman and sighed softly, resting back against the countertop, "That's what people keep telling me. The castle is ever-looming." The wolf looked back towards the bartender, then squinted at the bottles behind the counter, "I suppose I'll head off to the castle, then. I wanted to change clothes before, though.." She tilted back towards the woman, leaning in until she hovered a bare inch from her ear, warm breath upon it, "Unless, could you help me with my clothes problem..?" Her voice dropped a few tones, soft and deep, "I'd be much obliged."

The maiden waved the words away with an airy laugh, "Well it's true! My nose is never wrong." Barkeep looks up, before he sits himself on his stool. The maiden fusses with her dresses buttons, nodding a few times, "It's like that out here, honey." She looks up, in time to have her cheeks reach a warmer color. Taking a deep breath in, she whispers, "I've never laid with a furred one in all my life. But I can think of a few things we can do in the spare time. Waiting for the tailor gets lonesome, sometimes." The maiden's lips release the last few worlds against the wolfess's cheek, before giving it a kiss, "The name's Solveig, by-the-by."

The wolf made a low noise in her throat, muscles tensing as she grinned, tilting her head as she shifted closer to the woman and grazed her bare shoulder with her furred chin, "I how smooth skin feels on my fur. You can tell me how fur feels upon your thighs." She chuckled and moved her arm beneath the woman's, glancing about and lingering at the stairs, "There?" Shifting off her seat and offering a stiff arm for the dressed woman to lean upon as she stood up,"Sole.. vige? Solveig." Once up, the woman would lean forward and wrap an arm firmly around the plump woman's corset, "It is a beautiful name. My name is Jacqueline."