Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk

[sistermagnetic]

Who: Big Sis Magne & anyone 20+
What:
The official opening of the first proper entrepreneurship in Pumpkin Hollow!
When:
Late July and onward
Where:
the newly built, remodeled, and furnished VAS
Warning(s):
General warning for sexually explicit talk pertaining to the job functions of the business. Underage characters will not be able to enter via an enchantment on all entrances that stops them in their tracks. There are no exceptions. (My younger characters aren't allowed in, so neither are yours.)


Pre-opening Staff Party
Perhaps Magne talked it over with you while construction was underway, perhaps you heard about it through the grapevine, perhaps you were pinged thirdhand while looking for a position after newly arriving in town. Either way, if you were invited to come and see the newly-built, elegant multi-story brothel, a couple of nights before she had scheduled the official opening of the business proper, the Madame of this particular business will be throwing a small party to get her workers, friends, and little family together. It's a celebration of good fortune and tenacity. It's also a tour to let those that would be staying on the premises claim their rooms and start to talk over decorating with her.

The main parlor is pristine, with a bar and a few stools stationed around it, with bottles of liquor arranged behind it on sturdy shelves. Purchases from The Limoncello, and supplemental bottles from Erin Peters' collection. There are a few chairs, a few cushions arranged around a low tea table, poofy armchairs and footrests to go with them, loveseats and a couch. Around the walls are a couple of portraits already, one of the Madame herself, with an enchanted magnolia blossom attached to it softly glowing due to her presence in the building. This, she will explain, is the indicator for who is on staff at any given time, bending to the will of the person in the portrait. If they don't want it known that they're in the building, it won't show. First and foremost, it is to tell patrons who is available on staff. Hers is to let them all know when she is there. It will almost certainly be permanently lit. She will always be there for them.

There is a kitchen off the main parlor, specifically that that had come with the front of house that was originally just a normal two-storey home that Magne had built her business onto. It's not only functional, but now supporting the production of light foods for the gathering, with more supplies due to come in in the next couple of days. She had asked Max Maximum to be there a bit earlier than the rest to help her prepare for it all, knowing that he would want to be part of the hospitality for the event.

Everybody under her employ, regardless of position, would be walked through the rules and the security measures. Nobody would be in danger, so long as this was her business. Not if she could help it.

If Magne spots you on your own when you're in attendance, she will come and say hello. You may be the recipient of a big, squeezy hug and a "Hello darling!". Maybe even a kiss on the cheek. Sorry not sorry about lipstick smudges.

The Grand Opening
The wards are set. The rules are in place. A list of names is available with their own flowers beside them in place of the eventual portraits that will line the walls of the front of house. The curtains are drawn and the lights are soft and a radio plays softly from the shelves behind the bar. Everything is warm and inviting, and Magne? Magne is beaming. Her business is officially open.

"It's really happening," she says to herself, not for the first time since the construction was completed. She stands at the end of the bar, her hands clasped around one another mostly hidden by the wide sleeves of the kimono that she had had designed by committee to fit her, deep red with pink and gold embroidery of flowers and vines, the sash tied at her back. Her hair is pinned up in neat, elegant rolls and her makeup done subtly, and she looks every part the Madame that she decided she would be.

The rules are pretty standard, all things considered: consent can be recalled at any time. Refunds will only be given if all parties are in agreement that such a thing is called for. Abuse of her employees will be stopped by force if need be, and that will be done by Magne herself. This is not something that you want to happen to you. There will be nobody on the premises under twenty years of age, barring extremely specific gatherings to be announced at a later date. There is no "three strikes" in this building; testing your luck is not something that you will walk away from looking particularly pretty.

Welcome to the Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk. Whatever your pleasure may be, it will be seen to.

(Well, unless you want something from a vampire, in which case you'll be put into contact with Lord Erik Osborne. They have an agreement.)

The Off Hours
When not at work, Magne can often be found upstairs, in her own personal living space constructed with a soundproof layer between her loft-like home and her business. Her furniture from when she had first acquired the house has been moved up and the remodel has been completed to put in a small tamaya. There are small pencil portraits of the people that she loves framed there, and the little, square-ish figure of one stationed just under his portrait looking somewhat out of place there among the fine wooden shelves. She can be found in front of this every now and then, knelt in proper seiza, offering her fallen friends quiet prayers and updates on the way that things have gone.

There is a door buzzer that can get her attention if you want her downstairs, but some people are welcome to simply come up to see her when they want to. Just step around a curtained corner and pull on a braided silk cord to signal your arrival.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

"Doing my part to support local businesses," he says with considerable smugness. "How about you, is this where you work or is it the competition?"

[lordoftheozarks]

"Technically, this could be considered my competition, however I am here for much the same reason as you; I am supporting local business. Magne and I have a reciprocity agreement. Anyone with needs I cannot fill will be pointed to her business and she does the same for me. There is no animosity between us. Quite the opposite. I support her fully in this endeavor as a friend and colleague."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Sounds all kinds of civilized," he says airily. "Good to hear it. Might be thinking of patronizing this place myself, sometime."

[lordoftheozarks]

"I encourage it, of course. There is no one single flavor of pleasure to be had. Why not sample everything on offer?"

Still with a twinkle of mirth in his eye, he adds, "That said, I hope you will keep me in your rotation as well. Here," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his business card. "That's my address, should the mood ever strike you."

The card is a nice thick stock of cream-colored paper printed in wine-colored ink that reads:
Lord Erik Osborne
Premier Whore of Pumpkin Hollow
Inquire at 272 Pumpkinvine Street or call
Walk-ins are welcome but appointments are greatly preferred.

[hate_gettin_older]

"I'll keep it in mind." Edgar grins, and pockets the card without reading it. "Mind you, haven't decided for sure, mostly thinking of it cause a friend of mine's working here."

Reminded, he scans the crowd to see if he can spot Max anywhere.

[lordoftheozarks]

"Is that so...?" Erik answers, looking around to see if anyone waves back. If his heart were beating it might have skipped one the moment he sees Max waving back to Edgar from behind the bar. That conversation had on the train has never left him.

"Is that friend Max Maximum, then?" he asks far more calmly than he feels. "I'm not surprised. Who could ever resist his charm?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah." A pause. "You know him?"

There: the smallest, slightest tinge of something that isn't suspicion yet, only a breath of awareness that there might be something to notice.

[lordoftheozarks]

That slight tinge is already enough. The whole truth is going to come out, the only choice left to make is when and how. Better to admit to it up front than to try to continue a farce.

"Yes, I do." Erik answers, voice heavy.

"That day, when you mentioned your friend who had been hurt by vampires, was it Max you were speaking of? If the answer to that is yes, then I owe you a deep apology."

[hate_gettin_older]

It's a little unnerving to watch, how all expression drains from Edgar's face, all animation from his body.

There's nothing subtle about it, either; odds are good it'll be visible across the room.

He doesn't say a word.

[lordoftheozarks]

That speaks volumes all on its own.

"Yes," he says with grim resignation. "I am that Lord Osborne. And I am sorry for deceiving you, though it was never my intention. My words and actions that day were sincere, I swear to you."

He can hear the catch of Max's breath from across the room. He's seen, if not heard. What happens next will be up to him and Edgar.

"I am deeply sorry."

[hate_gettin_older]

For about two seconds -- seconds that stretch, impossibly, that feel days long -- he's completely certain that he's about to lunge at the vampire's throat, or shoot a bolt of fire into his face, through his face and out the back of his skull. He can almost smell the burning, almost see the red sparks flying up into smoke.

He doesn't. It doesn't feel like he's decided not to; it feels like Curtis's hand on his shoulder, cool and steady, like Curtis's voice low and determined in his ear. Not now, Edgar.

"No," he says, almost tonelessly. "You're not. Not enough."

Not yet, Curtis murmurs.

"Not yet."

And he steps back, once, twice, before turning his back on Erik and making for the door.

[sistermagnetic]

Magne had been keeping an eye on the conversation from the moment Edgar had gone still. That was not a good kind of shock or surprise, and the tension radiating from him puts her (and likely Dabi, and anyone else brought up in violence) on edge. She's already on her way over when it starts to look as if a fight may be about to erupt, only for the younger man of the two to disengage.

Approaching carefully with her hands out where he can see them, she meets him on the way toward the door. She stops just short of reaching to touch him.

"May I escort you out?" she asks quietly, without a glance back to see if there might be any escalation.

[hate_gettin_older]

His head still feels half full of sparks and smoke and roaring flames as he makes for the door, the long muscles of his arms twitching as though wondering why they haven't started throwing blows yet.

When he looks up at Magne, it takes him a moment -- and a wrenching effort -- to actually see her, hear what she's asked him. It's going to take him a good few moments longer to do anything like smile.

"If you like."

[sistermagnetic]

Edgar feels so tense as she walks beside him that she can't help wondering if he's about to turn right back around and actually start throwing punches. Just to get him moving, she wraps one arm delicately around his back and nudges him toward the door, not speaking up just yet.

Out in the cool evening air however, she speaks quietly enough close to his ear that she can only hope Erik isn't listening in. Inadvertent eavesdropping is such a curse.

"If you ever have any problems here, you can come and talk with me, darling. I don't want to have to eject anyone if I don't have to so I'm glad you held your temper.

[hate_gettin_older]

He twitches when she touches him, then subsides, moving where she nudges him.

When she speaks, the smoke swirls into his head again, dark and choking. (Because of course it's him she's talking about, him who would be ejected if it turned into a fight. Not the vampire bastard, not the lying, bloodsucking, Front --)

"Thanks ever so," he says, and there's the smile he wanted, affable and false. "Lovely place you have. Fraid I won't be back, not while that one's welcome here."

[sistermagnetic]

She doesn't know how he's framed it in his mind, so she can't explain that it would apply to either of them, or possibly both. She won't tolerate bloodshed on her property if she could step in and deescalate before it came to that.

Likewise she knows nothing of Erik's history, only what they've talked about in his current life. If she knew what he had done to their dear Max in full, she might have the same outlook on the man that Edgar does.

She does seem that forced smile though, and it worries her just a bit. She removes her arm from him and gives him a polite bow, hands in front of her. "I understand, dear. I won't pry into your business, but I can at least assure you that he isn't going to be a permanent fixture while he still has his own business to conduct. Whether that sways you to come back is entirely up to you. Thank you for being here for the opening nonetheless."

[hate_gettin_older]

Her gentle courtesy almost undoes him. He's been angry before -- he spent nearly his whole life being angry more often than not -- but he's never felt like this, like the rage in him might actually burst his skin or erupt up his throat. The anger's always given him strength, moved him forward; now, instead, it's draining him like a fever, crumpling him like a fist.

He can feel his smile coming apart, and rather than try to talk he gives her a short nod and turns away, stumbling off down the street.

[maximumcake]

"Edgar! Wait!" Max comes tearing out into the street at a run, hands up in beckoning as he races to catch up to his friend.

"Please?"

[hate_gettin_older]

As Max catches up to him, Edgar turns with startling suddenness toward him, revealing a face white and drawn as though about to faint.

There's only a moment's view of that face, though, before he takes two steps to close the distance and lunges to grapple Max in a tight shaking hug, head down against his shoulder.

[maximumcake]

Max catches him in his arms and holds tight. He won't let Edgar fall, not ever.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I should have told you he was here."

[lordoftheozarks]

Erik meets Magne at the door when she returns, his face drawn in repentant sadness that leaks into his voice when he speaks, very low for only her to hear.

"I'm so sorry for this disturbance. Don't be too hard on that boy, he's not at fault. I'll explain everything, but I'd rather it be in private. I don't want to cause further harm to your business."

[sistermagnetic]

Magne looks thoughtful, and rather put out when she comes back inside to resume her duties as the hostess of the evening. She blinks at Erik speaking up to apologize, then glances back toward the door where her friend and assistant host have disappeared. She doubts that she's going to get Max back tonight, after that.

"As far as I'm concerned, he didn't raise a hand against anyone or break anything, so he's still welcome if he ever does decide to come back. I would like some context for all of that, though. There was a lot of bad history in all of that for all three of you." Her hands plant on her hips as she watches Erik in his remorse. "You haven't hurt anything, really. If he comes back around that'll be his prerogative. But...yes, if you do want to air out some things, best not to do it in the middle of a party."

[lordoftheozarks]

"Good." Erik answers with relief when Magne says Edgar won't be barred from entry. He still can't help but think it might be a lost cause on Edgar's part but he is glad to know his trust in her judgement is well-founded. It's about to be tested.

"The history is between me and Max. Lead the way, please. I'll tell you everything that is mine to tell. Whatever conclusion you come to, I will accept them."

[sistermagnetic]

Magne knows a hard situation when she sees one, and this is certainly complicated enough that she knows she can't just barge into it with the grace of a bull in a china shop. This requires a gentle hand with all parties involved, if she wants to avoid anyone's uneasy truces being broken.

With a small bow of her head, Magne starts toward the curtained doorway that leads upstairs toward her little home, only briefly stopping to let her bartender know to keep an eye on the place while she's gone. With the assurance that everything would be under their watchful eye, she continues upstairs.

It's a cozy affair that Erik will find himself in, warm lighting, broken-in furniture, drapery here and there and the wooden floor polished with only a nice little area rug breaking it up a bit, a low table and a few cushions arranged on the floor. A small shrine is set back into one wall, with drawings framed on the shelves, and a little plush and a figure placed nearly under a couple of the portraits. Magne passes this to go into her little kitchenette to prepare some tea to sip while they talked.

"Perhaps you can start with how this involves dear Max, since you said that was the crux of all this."

[lordoftheozarks]

Erik hangs his head and doesn't look as Edgar backs away. For some, it will never be enough. He knew that. In theory, he knew that. He has no right to feel as stung as he does.

And it had to be here, of all places. Now Magne's business has been negatively affected. He'll stay long enough, he resolves, to deliver her an apology and an explanation, and then he'll leave and hope that's enough to preserve the peace for the rest of her opening event.