ph_logs | Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk

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.

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It's the following day after the events of this thread. Max needed some time to collect himself after, but now he feels bad for leaving without giving Magne any explanation. So, with his head hung low in contrition, he approaches her.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened yesterday. Can we talk? I, um. I should explain."

When Max had passed by her nearly at a run after the exit of his friend, she hadn't really had the chance to pursue. More than that, she could see that it wasn't necessarily her place, especially when it stayed mostly civil and gave her no reason to intervene for anyone's safety. So she'd gone back inside, and been waylaid by Erik wanting to try and explain the situation, and took it all in quietly as the complicated story was spelled out for her from his side.

She hadn't wanted to speak much after all of that, wanting to settle it in her mind before going to talk with Max in turn, but then he manages to beat her to it when she's sitting at one of the low tables recording the earnings from the night before to allot toward their budget here.

She looks up with a soft frown, then gestures toward the other side of the table. "What's on your mind, love?" As if she doesn't suspect.

"I wanted to apologize for running out so suddenly," he starts out, nervously settling himself opposite her at the table.

"I really needed to talk to Edgar and... after that I needed some time to think. I meant to come back but I... didn't. I feel like I owe you an explanation."

Magne places her pen down on the open ledger and watches Erik quietly, the furrow of her brow more pronounced.

"I spoke with Lord Osborne about what happened. I can see where your friend was coming from."

Max's face drains of color and a slight tremor starts in his hands. He has to work his jaw a couple of times before he can seem to make any words come out.

"Y-yeah. It... it's complicated. I'm sorry. I should have told you and Edgar about it before any of this happened. I just... didn't want you to hate Erik."

Her eyes return to Max and she lets his words absorb, and that stern Disappointed Big Sister face is aimed directly at him.

"Max, do I look like the sort of person that can't judge someone on their own merits?" she says calmly, the question rhetorical and containing some quiet anger that doesn't have a proper outlet. "What I would have preferred is that one of the two of you came to me before this became a problem, because he is a colleague and a friend and I just so happen to think highly of both of you. If I didn't, he would have been shattered over my knee and neither of you would be welcome back in here without a lot of apologies and at least one bottle of Suntory Peach apiece. As it is, you all nearly made a scene in the middle of my parlor, forced your friend into a situation that he clearly was not prepared for, and now I know the basic strokes of what happened and it's all so much simpler than you're all making it because you're trying to keep it all civil while half the information is missing to make that happen. You said Edgar is your friend, and you know that he has problems with Erik, so why not warn him before he walks in here?"

He's never wanted to shrivel up into a fried shrimp so much in all of his life. That look of disappointment is worse than any amount of yelling could ever be.

"I don't know..." he whispers miserably while staring a hole into the ground. "I don't know. I... don't know how to handle any of this."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"Everyone thinks I should hate him. Every time I try to explain it's just... am I wrong? Should I hate Erik?"

~~And he won't even have the honor of being the eponymous shrimp that fried that rice.~~

He can't even make eye contact with her anymore. She sucks in a long breath and lets it out again, before she stands and moves to place herself before him.

"Maximum, listen to me," she says quietly, and lays her hands on his face, gently smooshing his cheeks inward just enough to make his lips purse. "Do you think you should hate him? Do you even want to?"

squishing his face does, at least, keep him from actually beginning to cry. It's impossible to ignore how silly it feels. Or makes him sound when he answers through slightly pinched lips.

"No. I-I don't know. I don't want to hate him. He still feels like family to me and I just want people to stop saying I'm wrong and I don't know what I'm doing. Every time I tell someone I...it hurts. Because they get so mad at him and at me and I... I don't know what to do."

While she does release his face after that first sentence, it does do what she intended and break him out of that pathetic look that he was giving the floor in between them. She moves her hands to instead rest on Max's shoulders, and look him in the face.

"Nobody has any right to decide how you should feel but you. It's your decision whether or not you forgive him. Anyone trying to take away your agency in the matter is doing it for their own comfort, regardless of how they frame it for your benefit. what I would like you to do is try not to put so much stock in other people telling you who you should hate." Said specifically by someone whose life was shaped by people being told that they should hate her simply for existing.

He blinks at her in quiet shock. Not until now has he been able to put words to this feeling that's gnawed the edges of his nerves. Not until she gives him the words to finally understand it. Taking away his agency in the choice. That's why it burned so deep in his gut every time.

"I doubt myself a lot. I can't help it, sometimes," he starts tentatively, then his bottom lip firms and his eyes set in an expression of determination. "But I don't think I'm wrong this time. I stood up to Edgar even though I was so afraid he was going to leave me." Another tremble rolls through him remembering how terrifying that moment was, and yet he's proud of how he stood his ground.

"I want Erik in my life. I don't hate him; I've never hated him. He apologized for the ways he hurt me and I believe him. I forgive him. I believe anyone can change if they want to and I believe he's really trying. For me, that's enough."

"That's what standing up for yourself means sometimes. You hold your ground, even though the people around you are upset. You're doing what you believe is right for you in this moment and that is a good thing. You haven't really done it before, so it's going to be scary, but if nothing else, I believe in you." Magne's hand moves to Max's cheek again, an affectionate, supportive touch. "You're a good man, Max. Setting a boundary doesn't even remotely change that."

The trembling isn't lost on her. She moves to wrap an arm around his back, giving him a gentle hug then looking him in the face once more. "Anyone can change, and it seems like he really does want to. They can be hateful all they want but it doesn't change the progress that either of you have made."

He sucks in a bolstering breath and holds it, nodding with resolve against her hand when she tells him that she believe in him. He doesn't know if he can put into words what that means to him. Going against the grain is scary, and she would know. But if he has her confidence, he can do this.

Max clings to her a little in that hug, but doesn't stop her from pulling back to look him in the face. His eyes are still red from the tears, but there's no fear in them now. "Thank you, Magne. Thank you so much. I'm really sorry I didn't handle this better but I'll keep trying, too. I'll make sure it doesn't happen like this again."

Maybe there are other people that really do believe in him. She really wants to think that his other relationships can and will be bolstering for him and supportive of his determination to make the choices that he wants, and needs, to make. But sometimes you just...need to hear these things said out loud.

The return of that hug is comforting. She knows he hasn't wilted, he's determined and ready to try. So she smiles back at his gratitude, and leans to plant a kiss right in the middle of his forehead, leaving a lipstick trace there for the humor of it. "And even if it goes sideways again, you know that I have your back. Now, if you need to go for the day that's fine, but I would prefer if you stayed here and made it up to me with some french toast." Just a cheeky little breakfast request while she's at it. What better way to rattle a Max out of his funk than by asking him for something that he enjoys doing anyway?

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Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk

For Magne - After Edgar/Erik conflict

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good place to wrap?

Wrap!