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* Plot Information for Little Terreille

A naive Black Jeweled witch has destroyed the Territory Court. From its ashes a new court is being constructed, one run by a manipulative killer. As the blood runs in the streets of Goth from open gang warfare, the Steward of Little Terreille begins a gambit to rebuild the Territory from the ground up and challenge the Star of Kaeleer.
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Author Topic: Breaking Good Coin  (Read 166 times)

Description: Tag: Steel/Spring 193

Offline Fairuz Catullus

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Breaking Good Coin
« on: May 14, 18, 08:51:47 PM »

The Lady ain't a tramp, just 'cause she bounce it up and down like a trampoline ...


It was quiet before opening hours, and Fairuz relished in the near-silence except for the music that played at a low volume despite that loudness would have suited the particular mix of percussion far better. The Hearth Witch had settled herself on the center stage in the downstairs section of the Greyling's Muse, which she recently had been given half the shares of as both stockholder and Officially, half owner of. There had been a sense of giddiness in the woman, as she had long been used to being either the glorified help, primary Courtesan, or a variety of other odd jobs in her ninety two years of life.

Her title as such that Prince Breckinridge had given on paper was Procuring Madam, as she was the one responsible for finding ladies willing to work not only for a variety of sensual concerns, but the mundane. Drinks and food wouldn't pour and serve themselves, and nor did any of the business get ordered and delivered all by itself. Fairuz moreover, wasn't the sort that liked the calling of Lady. In her time with the Hell Lords, she hadn't particularly understood proper Protocol, nor did that kind of thing matter at all on the streets of Goth where she had evaded every bit of evil imagined to just survive.

Memory of her father, a good man, had been the one bright light that kept Fairuz away from so many cruelties. Prince Tartarus Catullus had been a native of Little Terreille, and she had known no strife or difficulty. Not until after his death, and there was no family save herself and the debts had taken the Hayllian Rose Jewelled Warlord Prince well before his time. All she knew about her mother was that the woman had been involved with her father and that she was Pruulian by heritage, but hadn't been terribly interested in being a mother, given that she had literally done the doorstep maneuver by leaving her at the Warlord Prince's house as an infant.

On the whole, Fairuz considered herself lucky. Warm brown fingers lightly touched the stack of papers next to her, completed order forms for the new stage flooring that she had decided to change out. It was the first of her decisions for the Muse that her partner - that word really gave the Hearth Witch a feeling almost as good as the idea of owning something all of her own - had simply said, 'do as you see fit, but I don't wish to return to an grotesque doxy house when I visit'.

Full lips twitched while she threaded her hands through her thick, dark hair. Today, the curls spilled around her shoulders and down her back, while the half brown and gold of her eyes made painfully clear her partial heritage as much as the hair type. True Long Lived people didn't have anything save straight black hair. Her own had subtle brown hints in the right light after the sun had affected it. A straight black a-line skirt which fell to her calves had been her preference before opening, paired with a red blouse that was simple and timeless. Under the skirt of course, were the pricey expected under-pieces that one might presume a woman of her trade preferred, when really the issue was personal taste. Why settle for less when one could have a little more?

Three inch stiletto heels made the whole outfit, in a similar deep red.

A firm, rather business like knock at the back door tore Fairuz's attention away from the pile of papers on the stage. Carefully organizing them in stacks per topic, she rose to her feet, smoothing the skirt and peering at herself in one of what had to be a hundred elegant mirrors around the walls. Thoughtful eyes considered the little music globe floating next to her shoulder, and instead of turning it off, she let it follow after her. After all, there were exceedingly low chances of anyone important showing up at this hour. With the firm conviction of a woman that had gone through a variety of hells before life tossed a little gain in her lap, the Lady went to go meet whomever she heard walking in, as apparently the last time she'd been to the door, Fairuz had forgotten to lock it.

"Hello? Who's there?"

She lifted a stylish baseball bat from the collection behind her desk and swung it round in a circle over her wrist; this one was a pretty silver trimmed with bright Opal that suited her colourful tastes. It wouldn't do much against anyone really trying to do harm, but these had been bought especially Craft reinforced by Breck himself at the level of a Cut Sapphire. Made her feel a thousand times better too, holding it over one shoulder. For a minute, she posed in the mirror, checking out her makeup. Still looking good for a fight and a party, but beautifully understated.

Very Nice.

"Lessa and I don't much care for surprises, so I'd really recommend an answer! I'll count to ten. One. Two, ... Ten!"

If one had asked her, she wasn't really out to hurt anyone, but damned unknown and especially stronger, darker Craft that she could sense just enough for survival put the Hearth Witch on edge. There had been a good few too many Aristo males that had formerly had ties to the splintered Hell Lords and looking for her services whom didn't care for the word no sniffing about. Fairuz swung hard at a sense of something that made her knees feel like jellied dessert, aware almost in regret that she could have just brightened the witchlight and being alone in the place made her comfortably forgetful about details like that.

Offline Alexander Irons

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #1 on: Jul 06, 18, 03:33:06 PM »
When he needed to be, the man called Steel could be an infinitely patient man. It was a lesson his father had taught him young, and taught him well. He'd seen the truth of it played out time and time again, how easily the best-laid plans could be so quickly torched by one person's unwillingness to wait. Laying an effective trap was only half the work, after all. Waiting patiently for it to be sprung was often the more difficult endeavor.

He wasn't about setting traps this morning, but avoiding them. Still, it was that same refined skill of patience which allowed him to ease his way without issue through the various and sundry security measures protecting Greyling's Muse from intrusion. It was a tall enough order to move through those webs and latent spells without setting them off; doing so without leaving behind proof of his trespass was the real accomplishment, though it was one he rose happily to meet. It'd been a while since he'd had to engage in such skullduggery on his own behalf. He'd built up enough resources in Dena Nehele that employing the guilds to do such work for him had suited his needs. Having relinquished the bulk of his fortune for the sake of following his beleaguered friend through the Dark Gate, it was necessity rather than choice that had him getting his own hands dirty, here.

Still, he found he'd rather missed it. It felt good to skulk about again, invisible to all but the Darkest Jeweled, most vigilant Blood. It was gratifying to find himself inside the well-appointed offices of the Muse without having tripped a single alarm. He'd had to dip into his Gray to pull it off, as there seemed to be a great deal of power from a fairly Dark Jewel involved in the precautions, but he didn't mind that so much. It felt good to be challenged.

He'd spent a good part of the morning getting acquainted with the Territory's Master of the Guard in spite of the Prince's absence. At least, he'd acquainted himself with the man's business sense and what priorities he could glean from sifting through his offices. Steel had been afforded the opportunity to meet and gauge the Territory Queen, her Steward, and her First Escort, yet Algernon Breckenridge had yet to cross his path. He could appreciate that a fellow with both a Territory court and a thriving business to tend to maintained a busy schedule, but that in no way diluted Steel's desire to see just what kind of people made up this court to which Davos had bound them. So here he was, rifling through Breckenridge's things like he had a right to do so.

Focused as he was on his task, even Steel found himself in danger of being distracted when one of Breckenridge's employees arrived early. Oh, it was easy enough to keep himself hidden and skirt around the places she moved, but she was as handsome a woman as Steel had laid eyes on in recent days, and part of him was thankful when she took her work elsewhere in the building to tend to it so that he could finish his quiet intrusion without having to fight the urge to watch the way that skirt hugged her curves just so.

Later, when he found himself down by the stage watching her anyway, he told himself it was because the stacks of papers she was working on were ones he hadn't rifled through, and he ought to at least see what they were about for completeness' sake. After all, if this was the new partner Breckenridge had just appointed, her work may tell him as much as the Prince's would.

But even some remarkable scenery couldn't keep him there all day, and eventually Steel grew tired of waiting for the woman to take a break in her work so that he could slip over and investigate. He was a patient man, but the longer he sat there, the more he thought he might like to come back during business hours for the sake of speaking with the mix-blooded siren, and the less content he felt to lurk about like some sort of ghostly voyeur. So he gave in, in a rare moment of impatience, and summoned a tendril of telekinetic Craft to create a knock at the back door. The woman got up to answer, though Steel took longer than was strictly necessary to watch and make sure she went all the way there (that backside! -knucklebite-) and was out of line of sight before he invisibly took her place at the stacks of paper she'd made. He gave them only cursory glances before the woman's threats towards the intruder who wasn't there pulled his attention away and left him smirking to himself. So, she was a beauty and a spitfire, he charted, affirming for himself that he'd have to make his way back here later.

"Later" wound up being the following week. Steel donned one of the tailored suits he took so much pride in (a dark gray number with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie), and headed back to the Muse in search of some recreation rather than work. He'd done plenty of work before going, after all, having dug up anything he could about the lovely Lady Catallus since his intrusion the week prior. Though he presented himself as someone interested in merely having a drink for the moment in a more refined setting than the local pub, it was the half-blooded Hearth Witch he sought while he waited to be served. As was the norm while out in public in Little Terreille, Steel's Offering was hidden and masked. He wore his Sapphire as his Offering, arrayed in a bracelet around one wrist. An Opal, wrapped in webs to quietly project the relevant psychic impression, decorated his tie as his Birthright.

Offline Fairuz Catullus

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #2 on: Jul 07, 18, 09:42:31 AM »
The papers that Fairuz had been tending to the previous week had been sales and defence receipts, all of which were perfectly and elegantly organised as one might expect of a Hearth Witch that had spent her youth among one of the most frightening and possibly lucrative of the gangs of Goth. Her time with Prince Breck had been spent in properly getting training and taking what had been skills for survival and making them into a true professional presence. As such, Fairuz could deal both with the Territory Court above board and legally as well as in the darkest gullies of Goth and come out as clean as a white rose, almost.

Though she was unaware, Steel would have been able to gain his fill on the knowledge of the business side run by the Master of the Guard of Little Terreille, even though more of that lately was solely on her for running. The responsibility was immense, and more than anything, she didn't want to ruin it. So far, she'd led the gain of approximately twenty percent in profits since the destruction of the Hell Lords, and that hadn't counted the money that Breck had been squeezed by before they had been destroyed.

Not that he'd really had any choice in paying up at the time, despite bearing the Opal and a Sapphire. Today, Breck was at the Territory Court Tower. Business this hour at the Muse was busy enough, but most clients here at this hour were regulars and already had been seen to. It left the primary front section as well as the plush area where the grey-suited male had taken a place to sit for himself empty except for him. She noticed the man after the bartender had pointed him out to her just before he went to take his break, leaving her to act as 'tender for a few minutes. Normally, she did not approach potential clients directly, for a considerable number that came to the lower levels of the Muse already knew what they were here for and what they wanted, or needed. Fairuz consulted her incredible memory and couldn't recall ever seeing the impressively clothed Prince in the establishment. She pondered waiting for the bartender to return, who was another Glacian, they had a few, as well as some others like her, partial or half Long-Lived employees and everything in between. Manicured clear buffed nails tapped the beautiful, polished blackened wood bar while she studied the man from beneath lowered lashes.

It was perhaps unfortunate for Fairuz that he was her type for the only kind of business she allowed, temporary even in the long term: well dressed, and appeared to have taste, intellect, and money. I do not need to get in any more trouble, she thought with a grumble even as her heeled stiletto feet were already taking her toward his direction with a black leather-backed menu collected in her hands just in case. Biting her lower lip, and unable to see through the ruse, she felt the sense of the Opal Jewel that seemed so innocuously safe like her own, then the Sapphire, which stilled her steps for a moment. Breathe. He just needs service. It isn't like before, she told herself while pulling on a pretty and subtly seductive smile that neither offered nor poured itself into his space as some Courtesans that were less skilled.

Dark curly hair just shy of a perfect midnight was mostly tucked in a chignon at the back of her head, while some fell loose around her face all the way to her hips. The dark kohl around her eyes made the golden and whiskey coloured eyes stand out sharply in all the warm brown of her presence. Instead of a cloying perfume, the faintest scent of delicate vanilla soap, irises, and honey were apparent when she moved close, but not in the Prince's space. She was familiar enough working with Breck that she could step just near enough without being an irritant. Most of all, she didn't advertise.

In proper Hearth Witch style, every fold of her silk gown, today in a stunning sapphire that almost burned against her skin and fell to the ankles. Hints revealed enough of the calves and thigh to sate even a dead man while whispering class enough that she could easily have been taken to the Opera as much as forcefully bent roughly in a carriage. The top of the dress covered her curves completely, while the slit in the gown was only apparent when she moved, otherwise the Courtesan seemed murderously modest in her presentation. "Welcome to Greyling's Muse, Prince, I believe," she remarked warmly, straightening his table and smoothly placing a card marked private in a lovely scrolling set of letters so that no one else would think to sit at his booth. Her movements were practised and elegant. Like any Hearth Witch worth her training, everything about her was soothing in the way any fatigued man that needed a break from the deadly sharp-edged realities of the world could fall into if desired. The precision of him, not any scent that she could discern made her think of the Caste, though she wasn't absolutely sure.

Carefully, she placed the menu before him and it opened with a twitch of her left brow. "What is your pleasure to ease your day and whet your tongue?" Of course, she was none the wiser that he had already been there just last week. By the time her attention was on Steel, the bartender was back and taking care of one of the booths in the back. Folding her hands, she stepped to the left, being sure to remain outside of any potential blind spot, and in front of the man where he could see her clearly. "You strike me as a man that delights in a reasonable variety of life. Top shelf port or a good wine, perhaps? Or is it more simple brandy or whiskey? If you need a meal, we can provide that as well." There were other pangs of hunger, but the known policy for Greyling's Muse was that the guest had to request those, which would have been apparent when Steel had been perusing everything he could.

Only a handful of people might have been able to pin her for him if he had been thorough as the former, famed Lady Starlight. Fairuz had been owned by an Aristocratic quarter-blooded Hayllian in league with the Hell Lords, among others. Not even she had been aware how many times her contract had changed hands among the 'Lords to keep her from getting free of them until the very end when Breck had crushed a man's neck for her, purchasing her contract and debts outright. She was proud a little just now, that her hands didn't tremble to serve this one.

It helped that he was terribly lovely to look at, something in him calling to that sense of absolute survival in her. She briefly straightened the double string of black pearls at her neck, having matching ones decorating her ears, subtle and pleasant. All of it was window dressing for the pure fire of the woman underneath.

Offline Alexander Irons

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #3 on: Jul 10, 18, 10:26:24 AM »
Steel had come to Greyling's Muse tonight with the firm expectation that it would need to be the first of several trips before he managed to get himself in front of the hearth witch he sought. After all, he knew better than most that she was not merely an employee of the place, but a partner. It seemed unlikely to him that she'd be tending to customers personally, and he'd expected to have to run some kind of light ploy in order to see her. While it wasn't beyond him to suss out the staff list and the work and break schedules in hopes of organizing some kind of seemingly organic meeting between the two of them, he hadn't yet done so. No, it was sheer coincidence that had placed the hearth witch at the bar that night, and likely the same phenomenon had been the cause of her opting to see to Steel herself rather than waiting for the bartender to return and do it for her. It amused the secretive Prince to see so much potential effort made neatly obsolete by nothing more than a graceful turn of chance.

He took no pains to disguise the fact that her movement towards him caught his attention, and he watched her as she approached with the kind of curious openness one might normally afford an incoming stranger. His gaze dipped just once, enough to visibly take in the whole of her dress and shape without lingering long enough to seem lecherous. He focused more on her face, on the eyes that seemed too warm to be looking at a stranger and the little smile that magically tugged an answering curve into his own lips.

"Good evening," he returned to her greeting, a soft nod of his head affirming her estimation of his caste. She asked about his choice of drink or meal, and the Prince's pale eyes sparkled with mirth. He seemed on the verge of a laugh, though there was something much warmer than humor behind the way his eyes followed her. He studied not only the way she held herself and the curve of her cheek, but her psychic scent as well. It was almost reflexive these days, to tease free all of the delicate little details that most Blood overlooked when considering the psychic impressions of others.

"Quite the conundrum you've presented, dear Lady," he pointed out, no trace of his native accent coloring his words. His was the cadence of an everyman, from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn't an uncommon thing in a place like Little Terreille. His bearing was unhurried, hammered smooth by the sort of easy confidence most often worn by wealthy businessmen or high level courtiers. He held himself like a man accustomed to success, a man unafraid of taking well-measured risks.

"How can I ever be satisfied with anything on a menu now?" he asked her, allowing the weight of his appreciative gaze to drive home the fact that it was the woman herself, and none of the offered refreshments, that might ease his day. He let that thought stand rather than diluting it with a fuller smile or some lighter comment that would allow her to easily demure. Only after a pause enough to denote his sincerity did he lower his eyes and glance briefly at the menu she'd set on the table. He made no move to pick it up, nor to even read it where it stood. He merely glanced at it, then returned his eyes to the beauty before him.

"What do you drink?" he asked her, instead. "And, if I ask for two of them, will you sit and drink one with me?" His mouth slanted into a slightly more mischievous sort of smile and he added, "If you ask me, it's the least you can do after shattering any hope I might've had of leaving here satisfied."

Offline Fairuz Catullus

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #4 on: Jul 10, 18, 12:37:00 PM »
The Hearth Witch did not like setting herself above and beyond the heart of the Greyling's Muse. Being close to the people allowed Fairuz to thrive: the common Blood male with a good few marks to call his own. On the street, that kind of man might have been loud and boisterous, and simple with his tastes but the Muse inspired a kind of elegance available to everyone so long as they could pay.

This Prince was at least a cut above most, Fairuz decided. Men never actually wanted her, they wanted who she could be for them. Short of a choice, fair-skinned persona that she would have to direct a gentleman to a number of her talented, beautiful colleagues, she could be anyone. There was a moment she considered lying, for most would never have noticed the difference. The Lady Catullus had spent her entire life running, lying, or a various kaleidoscope of blended options.

As a Hearth Witch, she was aware with a fluttering delight that he was aware of her observation of him, just as much Fairuz noticed him take in her every movement down to psychic impressions. She tended to alter those impressions for each male encountered so mystery remained, but there was a central aspect. The accent was a stunning facsimile, that much she picked up on after a few moments in deep concentration, but it was the absolute flawlessness that almost had the woman wanting to believe in it. Moreover, that she could not pick up even the smallest hint of his real speech caused her pulse to quicken. Most women would have fallen for the surface picture. The colour that bloomed in Fairuz's cheeks was because she could not see beyond the ruse.

Damn, he's good.

She all but ached with curiosity to know, despite the fact that the knowledge would have driven the gentleman into the smoke and mirrors, and the severe likelihood that she would never see him again in this guise. So she stopped looking.

"Conundrum?" Fairuz's lips twitched with amusement before a professionalism snapped back into place. Careful, baby girl. He'll clean his teeth with you and keep walking. That unhurried, calmly powerful presence of him was far too much her type and had been what had gotten her into trouble and owned by the Hell Lords in the first place. Realising that he had been taken in by the presence of the madam, she chuckled.

It was the laugh of a woman that had been around the roughest blocks with an affable, professional veneer laced through and over the top. Middle soprano with dark alto tendencies. Her laugh had been one of the prizes that she wasn't allowed to gift to a client without permission.  Now, she delighted in honest amusement where she damned well pleased and was humble with it, not forgetting the rough and tumble of her roots.

"A single drink with the lady of the house is free once a week, Prince," she murmured before leaning into just shy of the man's personal space and not one millimetre over. She murmured for privacy. "More is prohibitively expensive, Prince. A wise man would nurse that one drink to hell and back before the final curtain signalled its end." Fairuz turned and walked once past the front of his table and back to the Prince's side after letting the whispers of a sensual tension hold for a mere three seconds.

"I am fond of a variety of drink creations, but there is one or two that I delight in. An infusion of scotch and arak paired with honey, orange bitters and a hint of very good tea. If the sound appeals I would be pleased to bring one sample to you, before you try an entire drink," If he was well travelled enough, the Prince would know that arak was served both in Pruul and Raej in a variety of ways, and could be found in Nharkava as well as an import, but not with honey. It was a bittersweet drink, with a flowering of distinct anise.

For a moment, she thought his eyes were blue, but because Fairuz was a woman that had earned her living with subtleties the actual colour turned her senses inside out just a little.

Oh. He has grey eyes.

For a moment Fairuz wondered if he could afford her.

Offline Alexander Irons

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #5 on: Jul 11, 18, 04:58:56 PM »
The Prince remained where he was while Fairuz leaned a little closer, though he made no effort to disguise the fact that he wouldn't mind it if she came even closer still. It was something in that little ghost of a smile he wore, something in the way his eyes seemed both sober and amused at the same time. He had his passions, like any of the Blood, but he was a man who saw himself as civilized, as well. There'd be no gauche grabbing of what he wanted, nor even acknowledgement of the fact that he'd already begun to imagine having his hands on her. He waited, with all patience and ease, because there were rules to this game.

"Darling," he said, while that smile tugged a little deeper, and his eyes held evenly to hers. His tone was quiet, the endearment meant only for her, and was laced with just the slightest hint of playful chastisement, as though she ought to know better. "Nothing is free." He paused, and almost as an extension of the conversation he walked his eyes down the length of her, then back up and met her eyes once more. If she'd doubted the notion that he referred to suffering on account of her, she might be assured of it by that glance, and the way that he didn't seem put off, even by the notion of a price. "But sometimes even the most demanding of costs are worth it."

She moved and he waited there for her, allowing more of a smile when she described the drink she wanted him to try.

"I'm not here for sampling," he told her. "And I hear fortune favors the bold. If it's what you like, I'll take one. Something tells me I'll quite enjoy exploring your taste." In drinks, he could've said there, but didn't. The mirth that glittered quietly in his gaze was the only acknowledgement of the turn of phrase, though. Whether Fairuz left at once to order their drinks or whether she lingered, Steel inclined his head just slightly to one side.

"Will you tell me your name, Lady?" He knew it well, by now, but there was no reason to betray that. What's more, he was rather curious to hear her say it, anyway.

Offline Fairuz Catullus

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #6 on: Jul 18, 18, 06:00:37 PM »
If he had been more overt, Fairuz probably would have rolled her eyes and simply endured as she had long possessed the training and survival instinct to do. Instead, came the truly unexpected. She understood his interest through what the Prince chose not to do. The very way he said 'Darling' sped all the way with a buzz to the heels of her feet. The Hearth Witch didn't really have a witty commentary quickly enough to offer a rebuttal that had any kind of truth to it, because the man wasn't wrong. If she had been younger, less cynical, more of a lot of things, the look that skimmed over her form would have been enough to draw forth a blush. But these days it took more to get a real rise, though she did not think by any means that this particular Prince could not rise to the challenge if he so wished. So she answered his smiles with just slightly more enthusiasm than his. A client, in her experience, liked to know they were appreciated and noticed. Skilled fingertips skimmed near the fabric of his very fine suiting.

"Then you'll have what you want," Fairuz said in agreement. She still had no idea what he would even seek beyond the drink if it would be anything at all beyond her time. Many men that she encountered just wanted time with a woman with all of her attention focused on them. That they could imagine the sound of her voice, her mind, the body was truly theirs. "The pleasure of my presence, but not a mere sample," she allowed, playing on the words that he'd started. Obviously, she meant the drink, but a good Courtesan worth her salt would never turn down more.

Turning in her heels to see that said drink was ordered, the sound of his voice again asking a simple question seemed to made to drag out her libido and beat her in the face with it for fun. It took an effort to restrain her laughter. Instead, Fairuz's shoulders shook a little as she turned, the smile upon her face deep in her golden and brown touched eyes. "My name? It is Fairuz," she answered, with the correct Pruulian emphasis on vowels, a flipped 'r' and a guttural accent entirely different from the rest of her ordinary, Goth speech.

Slowly she turned on her heels again to let him have the view while going to put in the drink order, which she had years ago taught the bartender how to make. Now, he made the Arak and Scotch infusion almost better than she did. While he made it, however, she lent the man her Hearth Craft for every step of the process. For the tea, they used a spicy cardamom. On a tray, she brought the pair of drinks with a flourish before hooking the tray to the underside of the table. A clever addition that had been her own design. She pulled in a chair just shy of being very close within the Prince's space. Now settled in a seat, she took a generous drink of the strong, spicy and sweet mixture; his had been made to suit a Sapphire Prince's ability to metabolise, and hers, of course, the Opal, otherwise, the alcohol would not last more than a few beautiful moments. "Your name? I could keep calling you Prince, but surely there is something else you like to hear? Really, I am willing to call you anything you want. Play by the rules, Prince, and you are safe here."

Fairuz brushed her knee slowly, and subtly against his lower thigh as if she had all day to contemplate his eyes. "What brings you to the Muse? Curiosity? Do you enjoy such establishments?" It was not often that she truly liked a client, and sometimes, needed to falsify her delight, as had been the case with the last ... four ... six ... nine, if she were honest. This case even for a drink was proving remarkably different. Even for a drink, she intended to make sure he didn't want to leave, and if he did, the cockstand he'd have at just the thought of her would cause the desire for an emptying of a wallet on heroic proportions. Random utterances and motions were infused with that sense of the perfect home that a Hearth Witch could give. Wearing the Sapphire, the man didn't even need to let it affect him, but the choice lay there to take.

Offline Alexander Irons

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Re: Breaking Good Coin
« Reply #7 on: Jul 19, 18, 11:04:07 AM »
"Fairuz," he repeated, when she gave her name. Though he was certainly not a native Pruulian, he replicated the turns of the pronunciation as well as a non-native could be expected to. Not only that, but he seemed to enjoy doing it, as though the name itself was a drink to be savored on the tongue, its taste and nuances explored. "Lovely," he decided, more to himself than to her, as she'd made her way to the bar by then. He watched her from his seat as she assisted the barkeep and while she returned to him, seeming the endlessly patient gentleman, for the most part. The way his eyes followed her was perhaps the only true betrayal of how sharply his interest was focused upon her, that universal tell that even if he'd originally come here only for drinks and chatter, it wasn't where his mind was now.

The hearth witch returned to him, and as she pulled a chair near he shifted, orienting himself towards her while she settled the drinks. She lifted hers to drink and the Prince reached out, breached the unspoken courtesy of restraint for the sake of giving her pause before she took that first sip. Her reaction to that light contact would determine how much it lingered; if she seemed anything but pleased by it, it would be little more than a glancing touch, just something to make her pause. On the contrary if she did not seem opposed to it, it would be slower in falling away. Either way, he lifted his own glass towards her, silently insisting on a toast.

"To expensive tastes, and those who satisfy them," he suggested, his mouth slanting into a quietly playful expression. If she touched her glass to his, that pleased gaze would warm with approval, and then he'd tip back a swallow of the drink she'd ordered. He was quiet for a beat, eyes dropping to the concoction in his glass while he considered the taste of it. "That is... lovely. I enjoy a little bite in my indulgences," he said, nodding his approval of the drink. Another little sip, another thoughtful consideration, but then the Lady easily reclaimed his eyes when she spoke again. He smiled in response, perhaps the fullest, most mischievous smile he'd allowed yet, fleeting but present.

"I can think of a number of things I'd enjoy hearing you call me, I'll admit. But most people call me Steel. Jason Steel, if we're being formal, but most simply use the latter. This is my first time in this establishment, however. Are the rules here different than normal? I'm not unfamiliar with a house of leisure, but already I can see this place is... different."

The brush of her knee against his thigh was anything but unnoticed, though Steel gave little visible indication that he'd felt it. Other senses were liable to pick up the interest she was gradually stoking, if she was paying attention to such things. There was something in the more subtle part of these dances that spoke to him; he enjoyed the waltz of minds as much or more as the more carnal sort of foreplay, sometimes.

"I enjoy them in the sense that I find them convenient," he admitted, when she asked about his thoughts on Houses. He settled more comfortably into his seat, now turned more fully towards her. His voice dipped to something softer, sounding more like an intimate conversation between friends than the small talk between strangers it was. Perhaps it was a ploy on his part to put her at ease, or perhaps her Craft had done the same to him. "I am a business man and I am a Blood male, and the two are not always entirely complimentary truths. It's a matter of practicality, much of the time," he told her, letting her fill in the gaps as far as how his nature, when left untended, might interfere with his business sense. "Though I will admit, the Muse has already made promises of being anything but an ordinary experience."



 

 

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