The Hidden Village practically glows under the lavender-gold light of the twin suns.
Outside the house-turned-impromptu-pleasure-palace, Sera stands guard at the door, shoulders squared, arms crossed like the world's most muscular bouncer at the world's most scandalous establishment.
A modest line has already formed down the flower-crested path, beast-kin women of every shape and size, fidgeting, whispering, craning to catch a glimpse of the fabled Pleasure Prince through a tiny porthole window.
Veena sits at a little desk beside the entrance, boots propped up, a wide-brimmed hat shading her eyes like she's off fishing somewhere instead of running a brothel out of a treehouse, a small stack of coin and gifts already growing beside her ledger.
Furniture crashes somewhere inside before a woman shrieks, "Too deep, tooooooo DEEP!" followed by a long, guttural groan of pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
Sera arches a brow at Veena. "You get that?"
