Post by Madame Drew on Aug 25, 2009 1:40:24 GMT
A private niche. About 10 PM.
A box of chocolates sat nestled in her lap, its lid half off, blooming forth fluted papers and half-sampled tidbits. You could save all the trouble of picking out the unwanted ones by buying an assortment of strictly those one did like, but where was the fun in that? Somewhere else in these darkened chambers, there was a peal of high laughter, like a dampened finger rubbed around the edge of a wine glass. Clear and sharp, a laugh with teeth. At least someone was having a good time, even if it wasn't the customer just yet. Though some did like the kind of lady friend who came with a pair of pointed little cat's-fangs in her mouth. All the better for biting with.
Drusilla polished off a trifling piece of chocolate flavored with roses, snapping it up neatly, without particular delicacy. It wasn't that far of a leap from meretrix to lupa after all. Tonight she made court from the Birdcage Room, so named for its decorations as well as the overpowering sense it gave off of ultimate control. The twittering of songbirds haunted the place, despite the emptiness of the wire cages, and the perfume of a whole garden's worth of lilacs. A few overstuffed chairs made the space even more claustrophobic than it otherwise might be. And the lady herself could not help but fill the space, draped in white and at a garish contrast to the mostly cool palette. Somewhere set into the wall, there was a signal chime of the old-fashioned variety-- a silken-tasselled bell pull that had seen better days, and next to it, the little coiled spring of another bell itself. The little bronze thing went ding! weakly, heralding-- what else? A Guest.
Madame Drew did not even rise from her seat, but pushed away her temporary entertainment and brushed a flake of dried flower petal from her skirt. Raising her voice as needed:
"Do come in."
A box of chocolates sat nestled in her lap, its lid half off, blooming forth fluted papers and half-sampled tidbits. You could save all the trouble of picking out the unwanted ones by buying an assortment of strictly those one did like, but where was the fun in that? Somewhere else in these darkened chambers, there was a peal of high laughter, like a dampened finger rubbed around the edge of a wine glass. Clear and sharp, a laugh with teeth. At least someone was having a good time, even if it wasn't the customer just yet. Though some did like the kind of lady friend who came with a pair of pointed little cat's-fangs in her mouth. All the better for biting with.
Drusilla polished off a trifling piece of chocolate flavored with roses, snapping it up neatly, without particular delicacy. It wasn't that far of a leap from meretrix to lupa after all. Tonight she made court from the Birdcage Room, so named for its decorations as well as the overpowering sense it gave off of ultimate control. The twittering of songbirds haunted the place, despite the emptiness of the wire cages, and the perfume of a whole garden's worth of lilacs. A few overstuffed chairs made the space even more claustrophobic than it otherwise might be. And the lady herself could not help but fill the space, draped in white and at a garish contrast to the mostly cool palette. Somewhere set into the wall, there was a signal chime of the old-fashioned variety-- a silken-tasselled bell pull that had seen better days, and next to it, the little coiled spring of another bell itself. The little bronze thing went ding! weakly, heralding-- what else? A Guest.
Madame Drew did not even rise from her seat, but pushed away her temporary entertainment and brushed a flake of dried flower petal from her skirt. Raising her voice as needed:
"Do come in."