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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: Ruffled Feathers  (Read 658 times)

Description: attn: Violet

Offline Harken Varent

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Ruffled Feathers
« on: Jun 08, 18, 12:14:34 AM »
Little Terreille had changed.  And not just a subtle change.  Little Terreille had been buried in white hot liquid change and had forged itself into something that Harken couldn't quite recognize.  Even the people were different.  All of the allies that Harken had once before were either dead or in hiding.

As things began to settle, whispers came to Harken that one of his closest allies wasn't dead but had been in hiding.  Not that the General would ever admit that he was relieved... maybe even a little joyous that Violet was still alive... and even thriving like her namesake.

It hadn't taken Harken long to find and scope out the Bodleian.  Of course Violet would run a place like that.  It was exactly the type of place that Harken wouldn't be welcome in.  But it was exactly the establishment that his friend deserved. 

Having scoped out the Bodleian, Harken finally confided in his compatriot, Wednesday with his intentions.  The Raven cooed in excitement at the mention of Violet, one of the few people that didn't seem to shy away from the giant, black bird.  In fact, the female never seemed to hesitate to reach out and stroke the bird... almost the same treatment she gave Harken.

As Harken approached the establishment, dressed in his standard all blacks... though he'd attempted to clean himself up just enough to be presentable, something Violet would never ask of him, he realized just how tight the security was.  Good girl.

The bouncer at the door seemed to recognize him and promptly stopped him, hand on his chest.  Harken growled quietly.  "Get me your boss."

If Violet knew that her man was stopping the General from coming in the door, she'd say something.  However, it was getting her attention.  The male asked Harken in a rough, overzealous voice who he should tell Violet who was looking for her, the General looked to Wednesday.  The Raven preened herself carefully, extracting a long, beautiful feather and offered it to him.  "Give this to your boss.  She will know exactly who I am."

Offline Violet Kaos

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #1 on: Jul 29, 18, 05:08:17 PM »
The Bodleian was thriving, and with it, the people who worked within her walls. Business had continued to flourish under Violet's leadership. Her reports to the Sapphire Black Widow were detailed novels filled with financial minutiae. The Lady Siren had no intent of cheating her benefactor out of her share of the profits. If anything, she added unnecessarily small details to ensure that between she and Kelda, there was no doubt of both her sincerity and her continued commitment to their private enterprise.

Violet had been able to hire more staff, pouring profit back into her business as the Bodleian gained increasingly loyal clientele. The Shields grew more fiercely protective the longer they worked for her. The ones who had especially sharp instincts were assigned to the more volatile positions: the dungeon, helping the new Sirens acclimate, or with clients that had reputations that proceeded them. The incentive system she had set up that relied heavily on bonuses and seemed to be far more motivating than her previous ways of terror and violence. And the parties that she threw with the bonus of Lady D's enhancing substances had been both profitable and increased both witch's client lists. 

Still, while the searing pain and lessened to a dull ache, she missed her former family. Every now and then the Madame would get swept up in a spell of reminiscence, at times strong enough to cause her to feel like she was drowning in her own sentimentality. Violet had softened in some ways, her former blade sharp edges coming forth in her work with a particular group of clients or when someone caused threat or harm to one of her Sirens. Her protective instincts had extended beyond her own person and now encompassed those who worked for her.

If she had been shown a vision of herself as she was now a year ago, she would have never believed it was possible.

Her Shield caught her in just such a moment when he sought her out in her office. The Green Jeweled Warlord Prince seemed on edge as he waited at her door for her acknowledgement. Bringing the full weight of her gaze upon him, she motioned for him to enter. "Prince Reed?"

"You have a visitor."

The tone of his voice let her know exactly what he thought about visitor in question. "That is rather the purpose of all this," she said as her lips curved into a smile. She rose from her desk and crossed the room to him. "Who is my guest?" she asked. He withdrew a single black feather and held it before her, his lip curling up in a snarl. Violet's eyes lit up at the sight of it, plucking it from his fingers and running it across her skin. She set it aside before raising her hand to his cheek. "The General is an old friend. Whatever you know of him outside these walls, he is welcome here, Prince Reed." Rising on her tip toes, she brushed a feather light kiss against his other cheek before stepping past him and taking the stairs down to the main floor.

She looked different than when he had seen her last. Her black dress was a much richer fabric and her hair was down. But her red heels still made that same distintive clicking sound as she walked, the sway of her hips as she moved the same as it ever had been. "Hello, General," she said as she approached him. "So nice of you to escort Wednesday to see me." Her blue eyes shimmered with amusement as she stood before him, having risen from her own ashes to become more magnificent than even she had ever dreamed.

Offline Harken Varent

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #2 on: Aug 04, 18, 01:47:14 PM »
Of all the things that had changed in Little Terreille, seeing how much Violet had changed hurt the most.  The changes were subtle but Harken could see it.  It was clear to him that the rising tides in the territory had their affects on  the witch but she was thriving in spite of it all.  Just like Harken knew she would.

When Wednesday's dark eyes settled on Violet, she cooed happily, her feathers fluffing in excitement.  She knew that the Witch made her master happy.  Violet made her happy as well.  And she had clearly liked her gift as she was still carrying the feather.  Harken felt his Raven rub herself against his scarred cheek as if to tell him how excited she was to see an old friend.  Harken's fingers drifted to Wednesday's beak to stroke her back. 

While the Warlord could see the differences in the Witch, he couldn't help but notice how much of Violet was the same.  Strong as always.  Beautiful as always.  She even still had her signature shoes.  That brought a sharp smile to his lips.  "We both know it's proper protocol to escort a Lady wherever she may go."

It was unspoken that they both knew why the Warlord was there.  Harken had gone too long since he'd been in the service and company of Violet and he was long over due.  Also, he'd been worried about the Witch.  To see where she was now pleased him greatly.  He knew of anyone that Violet would rise out of the darkness like her namesake.  And she was more beautiful now that she had been then.  "You look beautiful, my darling.  We had hoped we could have a private audience."

Offline Violet Kaos

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #3 on: Dec 08, 18, 09:25:26 PM »
Violet's smile grew warmer as she whispered soft greetings to the large black bird. Wednesday was perhaps the only one of her kind that Violet could be bothered with, but then she was the only one she had known who was as intelligent. Perhaps they all were, but she doubted it. Wednesday was special, there was no doubt in her mind about that.

"And you are a wonderful escort," she replied. She looked to her own escort, her fingers rising to curl against his cheek. "As are you, Prince Reed. But I believe the General has it from here." Something dark passed behind his eyes, but he nodded and stepped back. Warlord Princes were tricky creatures. She would likely have some feathers to soothe later that had nothing to do with Wednesday.

Linking her arm through Harken's, she looked to Wednesday. "Perhaps we can share your escort this evening? I promise to give him back." When the bird cooed softly, Violet smiled.  "She always has been so generous," Violet commented, as she led Harken across the room. Instead of taking the stairs up, however, she veered them toward a heavy curtain and stepped through and down into the Bodleian's dungeon. "I trust that your tastes haven't changed since we last saw each other?" She led him down the curved stairwell. As they drew closer, the sounds of pain and pleasure filled the space.

It was difficult to make out clearly at first, but as their eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting, there was all manner of dark seductions to behold. "I know you prefer a more private space and there is one available right over there. Would you like a drink first and to take in the" she made a motion with her hand to take in the various sexual deviance occurring around them, "atmosphere? Or would you prefer we reacquaint ourselves as soon as possible?"

Offline Harken Varent

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #4 on: Dec 30, 18, 06:47:28 PM »
Harken knew who he was.  Even in the face of a Warlord Prince sizing him up.  The Warlord smirked as he eyed Violet's escort.  Surely the General was the superior choice of escorts but he would let the lovely female tell her escort that.  Once the escort was dismissed, Harken offered his arm to the Witch with a crooked smirk as she led them.  "I'll always have an arm for you, Lady"

As the General followed his witch through her new establishment, Harken inspected his surroundings.  It wasn't quite the place of sultry opulence that Violet once owned but it was damn close.  Closer to normal than most had.  Wednesday nuzzled his cheek gently, clearly excited to have Violet back in their presence again.  While Harken was just as elated, he wouldn't show it.  Not to a room full of strangers.

Harken followed down into the dungeon, their normal playground.  Anticipation rippled over the General's skin as he looked around with a brittle smile.  They both knew Harken had a troubled relationship with his choice of perversion.  The fact that Violet was going out of her way to slowly lower him back into the pool made the General sigh.  "A drink, I think.  It's been too long and I feel as though I must reacquaint myself with your face."

The General lead his escort to the bar, his back to the rooms where sounds were bleeding into the main room.  Soon those screams would be his but he could wait a moment.  They had waited this long.  He could wait just a while longer.

Offline Violet Kaos

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #5 on: Jun 30, 19, 06:26:33 PM »
Violet's clear blue eyes danced as her escort said he needed some time to reacquaint himself with her face. Her mind was already crafting new and intricate ways they could become truly reacquainted. Her outward persona was softer now than it had been when she was the Daughter of the Hell Lords. Her Shields allowed for that gentleness, as now she could tell other people to handle the bloodier side of her business if she so chose.

But at her core, Violet was what she had been raised to be. And her skills as a Domina had only grown with access to her benefactor's money and a whole new kind of clientele. None of them were here for children, and none of them would be allowed to offer any lasting damage to a single one of her Sirens. It was so very different than before. Her life still, yet along a completely different path.

She didn't spend much time thinking such thoughts. Mourning her past was one of her least favorite activities. They approached the bar and the Shield tending the bar bowed his head to her in respect. He was already half way through making her drink. "I like when you anticipate my needs," she told him. A deep blush crept over his skin. She smiled. He was new. He would get used to her eventually.

"My guest will have a Scotch," she said, turning her attention back to her escort. When the drinks were ready, she led them to a dark corner with plush furniture. She sat down on the couch and drew him down with her. She allowed her innate seduction Craft to curl around her, bleeding slowly into the air around her guest.

"Does this feel familiar? Or am I rather still a ghost to you?"

Offline Harken Varent

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Re: Ruffled Feathers
« Reply #6 on: Oct 13, 19, 10:16:56 AM »
In all his interactions with others, Harken was the dominant hand.  He lead and expected to be followed.  Unless, he was in the company of Violet.  The sweet witch was the only one he allowed any modicum of control.  Why?  Harken wasn't sure when he had decided that of all people, this night blooming flower was to be trusted but he did trust her.  Violet's kind and steady hand was a soft place to fall for the General and always would be.

The Warlord didn't even have to tell the Witch what he liked. She just knew.  Perhaps that was why Harken took to her so easily.  Like the faun like bartender, if Harken were a younger man with the capability, he would blush under her gaze as well.  With a crooked smirk, Harken took the glass with a nod to the young male.

With his arm still crooked to support the hand of his lady for the evening, Harken let Violet lead him to a small sitting area.  Harken never had to hesitate with the Witch.  Usually, Harken would be more cautious as he sat down.  The art of facing his back to the wall so he could see every entrance and face in an establishment was one the Warlord excelled at.  But here... in Violet's place, Harken just sat.  His back pressed against the plush fabric as Wednesday moved to walk across the wooden decorations of the back of the couch.  Even the Raven knew she was safe here.

Violet's presence wafted like sweet perfume as the Warlord relaxed, watching her with a slight smile.  He'd thought of her often in the span of her absence.  Like a ghost, yes.  Though her presence didn't inspire dread.  Only longing.  "More like a recurring dream I don't want to wake up from."

 

 

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