Magne Hikiishi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sistermagnetic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-08-09 09:02 pm
sistermagnetic) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-09 09:02 pm
Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk
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.
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.
no subject
"I mean everything. I don't..." One hand flits to the back of his neck. "I told you I don't hate him. I told you. He's acknowledged, to my face, what he did to me was wrong. I told him that if we talk from here on out it's my terms. He knows that. He agreed to it. This was my choice."
He can feel something like a scream trying to crawl up the back of his throat. How can he make Edgar understand? How?
"He's died for me. More than once. I even... saw it happen. I don't know how to put it in words you'll understand, but he's... he's family to me. That doesn't mean he's perfect, but I care about him. I still want him in my life. That's my choice, too."
no subject
"How?" It's barely a word at first, more a modulation of the anguished groan. "How do you not --"
(I should hate you, man. I don't but I should.)
One hand turns loose of Max, closes into a fist, opens again, rakes through his own hair and clutches a handful.
(I mean what does that fuckin make me, if I don't?)
"What he did," and the words come out slowly, struggling, "that doesn't go away."
no subject
"I know that." The trembling hardens into something else, something like anger but more desperate. "I'm not stupid! Just because I forgive him doesn't mean it didn't happen! But I don't want to spend the rest of my life being angry and scared. He's here. I'm here. We spent seven years together. It wasn't all bad and I don't want it to mean nothing. Why can't anyone understand? My life with him wasn't just nothing."
no subject
He draws a shaky breath in turn, his voice lowering. "I told him, day we met, how a friend of mine got hurt by a vampire. And you know what he said? He said sorry for your friend, but that's hardly my fault. Like he could never do anything like that. Like I was the nasty suspicious one for even thinking it."
no subject
Max's frustration simmers down into something heavier, like a weight pushing down on his shoulders, shrinking him several inches.
"You remember how we ended up in other people's memories that one time on the ship? Erin went into one of mine. She killed Erik. She took me back home to my family. It was everything I'd secretly dreamed of. But we weren't safe. Me, my sister, my dad, and Erin had to move all the way around the world to Japan. We were hiding in Tokyo for a year. Then we got attacked in our apartment by vampires. Just like Erik said would happen. They almost killed my dad and sister. If Erin wasn't there to fight them off..." He can't bring himself to finish that thought.
"And we had to run again. Pick up everything all over again. My dad already had to leave the business he'd owned for years, and my sister had to drop out of medical school. For me. And it still wasn't enough. They'd have to spend their entire lives afraid of getting attacked, for me! Give up everything they wanted in life. For. Me."
He shakes his head bitterly.
"I was actually glad when I woke back up and found out it was all just a... memory. I just wanted things to go back to how they were, with Erik alive. I... I never got over seeing him die like that. What more do you want? Does he have to be dead for good before anyone will listen to what I want??"
no subject
But he does want Erik to be dead for good, along with his murdering sister and all the rest of them, all the bloodsucking bastards who figured they had the right to punish someone for defending his own life. He wants to argue that Erik isn't better than them because he'd rather enslave than kill; the point is he thought he had the right.
There's nothing in Max's face he can say that to.
"You know what he did to you was wrong though," he says doggedly. One last try. "You do know that, right? And he knows it?"
no subject
Max heaves an almost painful sigh and reaches for Edgar's hand. With effort, his voice softens. "I know it wasn't a good situation. It wasn't fair that I had to give up everything I ever hoped for in my life just to stay alive. But I did it for a reason. I stayed, and I'm glad I did because putting my family in danger wasn't something I could live with."
Another steadying breath. "Things are different now. The vampires that want to kill me can't get me here. No one will ever own me again. Not him. Not anyone. That isn't what Erik wants with me, anyway. He asked me for a second chance to know me as an equal. I thought really hard about it before I decided, and I decided I want to try being his friend. You don't have to agree, but I'm not going to change my mind. I'm doing this for me."
no subject
"Look," he says, low. "I still don't think it's right. Still want him to pay for what he did. But ..."
A long breath, and his shoulders bow as though to a great weight. "But I want you to be okay, and have what you need. Whatever you need. And that's bigger than him."
no subject
Max goes weak in the knees with relief and ends up catching himself with his hands interlaced in Edgar's. "Thank you," he answers breathlessly. "I don't need you to agree with me, but I do need you as my friend. I know it's hard to understand, but I really appreciate you letting me try it my way. I love you so much, Edgar, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you all of this sooner."
no subject
"Just," he says, "just one thing, okay? Promise me one thing?"
no subject
no subject
Edgar swallows in turn. "If it goes wrong. If he does something, or tries to make you do something, that you don't want. And look, I'm not saying that's going to happen, that's not what I'm saying. And if it does, I'm not, I promise I am not going to say I told you so. Swear it. But."
Just the smallest shake of their clasped hands, for emphasis.
"You gotta promise you'll tell me, if he does. And if you -- christ, if you want me to promise I won't go after him for it, fine. But you tell me. Is that -- could that be the deal?"
no subject
no subject
And then slips one hand free of Max's, to wrap that arm around him and pull him in for a hug.
Do we want to handwave them going home together, or separate?