Chapter 106 Absolute.
The pawnshop was not open for business. The door was locked tight and the curtains had been drawn across the windows full of knickknacks.
In the locked door hung a hand-painted sign that read, Sory, We ’re Clozzed. Which, in addition to being a spelling and grammatical nightmare, seemed pretty suspicious.
Ava shaded her eyes from the morning light and tried to peer into the darkened shop. Nothing was moving.
"Well, that was a short investigation," she sighed, hefting the bag on her shoulder. She could feel the sculpture’s unnerving warmth radiating through it and against her hip.
A tremor of desire ran through her. "Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting me horny again. If the pawnshop guy won’t help me, maybe I can take you to someone who will."
Ava considered her next move. If the pawnshop wasn’t an option, she had other sources.
She had many associates and friends, but she only had one with an exhaustive knowledge of the occult and a curiosity about magical artifacts.
"Ireen," Ava said, snapping her fingers with realization.
Of course, being a witch, Ireen kept her own unique hours at her store. Ava found her business as locked up as the pawnshop. It took a great deal of knocking at the door to get the witch to answer.
Finally, the locks turned and the door swung open, revealing Ireen in a fluffy pink robe, her hair back in a ponytail and a silken sleep mask on her forehead. She squinted tired eyes, and sighed as she saw Ava standing at the door.
"Gods, Ava, it’s not even afternoon yet! What are you doing here?"
"Hmmm? Oh, I always get up early. You know the old saying: ’the elf who rises early can hang her snare from the first rays of dawn.’"
"What? Eh. Whatever." Ireen yawned and stretched her arms over her head. "Anyway, come in. Tell me why you’re rousing me before I even got my ten hours of beauty sleep."
"Really? Ten hours? Wow," Ava said as she followed the sleepy witch inside. "I think you’re already pretty beautiful. Do you really need it?"
"Eh," Ireen said, shrugging as she lead Ava into her bedroom.
Ireen yawned again and plopped down onto her bed, which was oversized and drooping with too many blankets. Ava sat down beside the witch and produced the sculpture from her bag. She unwrapped it slowly and it rolled out of the towel and landed on the sheets next to Ireen.
Ireen stared at the thing with obvious disgust. "What the hell is that? Is this the sculpture you were talking about?"
"Yes," Ava said, leaning in, her voice dropping as if afraid of being overheard. "But I’ve been having dreams about it. Dirty dreams."
"How dirty?" Ireen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Remember that time I told you about the dream I had where a giant snail had sex with me?"
"Oh, yeah," Ireen laughed. "That was a weird one."
"Well, it was like that, only even dirtier," Ava said, her eyes losing focus for a moment as she recalled the pleasures she had imagined in the bath.
She shook herself out of the blasphemous fantasy and turned back to Ireen. "The thing is, I think this sculpture has something to do with Lynch’s boat. Like it came from the sea somehow. Maybe if I knew more about it, I could ask him more pointed questions the next time we help him with his art."
"Ooooh, right," Ireen said, blushing deeply and getting her own faraway look. "Helping him with his art. I almost forgot."
"Yeah, but first, the sculpture," Ava said, prodding her friend. "What can you tell me?"
"Hmm. Well, I can tell you one thing for sure," Ireen said, turning the body-warm sculpture in her hands. "I don’t know anything about it. But if you think it came from the sea, I might know of somebody who does."
"Who? I’ll talk to anybody!" Ava said.
Ireen looked doubtful.
"Are you familiar with wugs?"
Ava tilted her head. "Oh!" she said, snapping her fingers. "The little frog guys who live near the docks?"
Ireen looked surprised. "Um, yeah. Actually. How’d you know about them?"
"I eat at their food stalls every week," Ava said. "I try and sample every culture that makes up New Larrin. Their seafood is the best! And they’re always so friendly. The one at the food stall calls me ’Rorrupa’."
Ireen’s eyebrows flew up. "Does he?" she said.
"Yup! Why? What’s it mean?"
Ireen coughed into her hand, trying to hide her smile. "It ah... means ’she of fertile milk bags’. A term of great endearment, I hear."
Ava giggled. "That’s silly! I don’t lactate. I haven’t even gotten pregnant yet!"
"Not for lack of trying, though," Ireen observed, amused.
"Oh no! I wouldn’t dare. I mean, being a breeder is a high honour, of course. But I have a career now! I can’t spend all my time heavy with someone’s child. Tucked away in some cave or seraglio, my breasts getting milked and my um... my pussy getting stuffed with big, virile cocks. My womb all... all stuffed full of potent, thick cum."
Irene smiled at the blush on her friend’s face. "Of course, Ava. But don’t worry. Wugs are well known for respecting women. They hold them in almost divine respect. Especially the bigger her breasts. Wugs consider milk from truly fertile women empowering to the tribe, and keep their breeders very well looked after."
"O-oh," Ava said, blushing hotly. "Well, um..."
Irene giggled and pulled a piece of paper from her bedside table, scrawling something on it. "Here," she said, passing it towards the elf. "This is the address of a wug temple I go to frequently. They’re the best at getting components from the Emerald Sea. I’d be just lost without them. Give them my name. That’ll get you through the doors. Guaranteed."
Ava beamed and snapped up the paper. "Thanks, Ireen! Would you mind looking after the sculpture while I’m gone? I don’t want to messing things up."
"Sure. I may as well. There are a few books I could cross reference it with anyway."
Ava squealed in delight, throwing her arms around the witch. "Thank you! I knew I could count on you."
"Absolutely," the witch crooned, leaning back in her bed, arms crossed behind her head, chuckling. "I think you’ll be an absolute hit."