OOC: Originally posted by AGM Neal. Menu by AGM Enigma.
La Petite Morte d' Michelle Tavern and Inn is situated in the middle of the Eastern section of town, where eager customers can always be found in plentiful bounties, well away from the ominous L' Cloison.
The building appears rather plain, being an elongated rectangular prism comprised of white-coloured boards, but its true nature is proudly proclaimed by a vibrant orange sign suspended above the tightly-shut door depicting a beautiful woman falling in glorious battle. The door is is perpetually bolted against the frigid external clime, and is guarded by a giant of a man, known by the locals simply as "Big Leforge."
Named after the legendary heroine, Michelle, the tavern easily deserves the self-appointed name that it so proudly displays. The largest and oldest of the taverns in the city, Le Morte d' Michelle also boasts the finest spirits, food and wines, the softest and most comfortable of bedding, and the most accomodating of female barmaids, ready to serve anyone--- and anything...
Upon entering the establishment, darkness immediately befalls you. Soon, your eyes adjust, and through the hazy, flickering torchlight provided by fiery blaizes firmly held in place by metal sconces in the walls, you perceive and literally can feel the heat of an aggregated crowd of patrons, all partaking of the fleshly, carnal fruits of the establishment, and all for a most excellent price.
A low bar spans the back of the huge common room, behind which are open doorways leading to the substantial kitchen. Smells of varied descript waft in through the open portals, carrying with them the reknowned scent of the finest and most famed delectables in the city. "Gourmet cooking to please even the most discriminating of tastes," was one of the age-old, coined mottoes of the inn in days long past, before the current owner, Jean-se commenced his leadership of the processes and business affairs of the establishment. It was a statement that still, and shall forever, ring true. Several large tables fill the rest of the main common room, and two fireplaces, one on each side of the hall, provide more than ample heat. At regular intervals, work boys stomp in from the blistering cold with armloads of fresh wood, and they feed the eager flames to ever greater intensities.
Behind the bar, a barkeep clothed in a fine white apron and black vestments beneath it, eagerly awaits all who desire to place their orders. Being a top-class dining facility, the barkeep is well-trained and experienced in the matters pertaining to social grace and eloquence, as are the barmaids... in more ways than one.
Scattered around the main room, various young females of all physical beautifications imaginable are present for the purchase. They too are a famed commodity and luxury of the supreme service of the inn, and the price required for their services is more than worth its weight.
A spiraling staircase beside the main entrance leads up to the luxurious and comfortable lodging facilities on the upper floor of the facility. Big Leforge guards this as well, preventing anyone without exclusive rights to enter the forbidden rooms of pleasure and relaxation. It's rumoured to those who have no personal experience that the upstairs floor also houses a bath house, complete with hot water and real lead pipes.
Along the inside curve of the spiral staircase is a large ornately carved desk in dark, rich-grained wood. Behind the desk, on the wall, is a large panel of pink grained marble set with with brass hooks set into it at regular intervals, each with their own brass plate emblazoned with the room number corresponding to the key which hangs from the hook.
A finely crafted tooled-leather register sits atop the desk, only one entry is permitted per page ensuring complete privacy of the Inn's discriminating cliental. The elegantly dressed gentleman behind the desk is none other than the Inn's owner, Jean-se, who knows just how important it is in establishing a business which caters to the well to do, to give personal service to customers who can afford to go anywhere they wish. Jean-se is a serious man who never fraternizes or engages in jests with his patrons, although he will smile broadly in a polite manner if they do so with him. He is also the sort of man the very wealthy trust to have complete discretion in maintaining the confidentiality wished in being privy to their particular preferences and proclivities in diversionary entertainments.
The large brass plate on the wall of lodging prices to the right of the desk, is not so much for the Inn's usual customer, but for discouraging those who would not be comfortable lodging in accommodations above their station.
Stables
Grain and Stabling for each horse (daily): 5 crowns
Presenting you with a fine brass-tipped quill and the tooled leather register for your signature, Jean-se then retrieves the ledger to add his personal notes to the entry. "Serale, suprême doux personnage! How may I make your stay at La Petite Morte one of great comfort and pleasure?"
While the company was somewhat scandalous at the Petite Morte, it boasted the finest winelist in the city. Anora had been amidst worse society in Vortex, but it still prickled her prim sense of decency to mix in such sordid and scarlet corners.
She gracefully spread her skirts on a seat furthest from the firelight. The pinch of winter soothed her naturally cool temperament, and the ill light shrouded her enough to avoid gaudy attention.
While she was all politeness with the staff, each facet of her features expressed an inclination to be left to herself. What was this little transplant from some Daltinan manor doing here? The reserved patron was properly decked in thick petticoats and a modest gray gown that whispered as she moved. The only worldly aspect of her appearance was the starling tumble of gypsy hair that swung to her back. However, it was partially pulled from her features to dispel any picture of wantonness. The woman was more elegant than beautiful and seemed more poised than gentle.
Yet there the quiet creature stayed, drinking a garnet colored wine, and contemplating some exquisite plot that was forming with the patience and delicacy of a spider's web.
The liquid swam in her glass as she held it in front of her face. The Jaedaxiennes did have such beautiful wines. Pity that this sophisticated pleasure could not distract her mind from other ruminations.
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 25, 2008 at 10:54 PM.
Dimitri was rather drunk, indeed he was often rather drunk in Jaedaxia for a variety of reasons. He slurped wine of all varieties, some Eventide vintages which he glugged down with a merry dose of the appreciation of irony. By him was a plate containing some sort of venison bathed in a sauce that certainly contained cream, what else Dimitri was unsure.
Upon his lap lay a rather lovely young lady who was liberally falling out of her bodice, Dimitri was not entirely sure of her name but he occasionally pressed his face against her heaving bosom hoping to find the answer somewhere. He was attired with his usual patch, a dark silken tunic that was slowly becoming undone.
He did not bother to look around much and did not spot Anora, he knew she would be in Jae at some point in the season, he could not really remember when however. For now he indulged his pleasure and forgot much.
The room was amassing voices and bodies, the sultry atmosphere livening with the growing cloud of vibrations. It was still a dull roar, but Anora had turned especially sensitive of late. Boisterous company jarred her head and happy noise turned her shyer than ever before. There was no family, lover or visitor to please with gracious manners. She could be as reserved as she like without being judged rude. There was a great freedom in this solitude. No one wanted letters from her, she had no appointments to keep, or any edicts to obey for a good two cycles. Business had been set aside for what she thought would be pleasure. Now, the scope of her empty time was enough to induce delirium.
To keep from such an end, Anora's head still churned out plans and ideas for the immediate future, and to her dismay, insisted on playing vignettes from the past. Some were pleasant, others plain, and several wrapped in apprehension: her sister's broken eyes on her wedding day, an opened grave, the sound of her cousin's voice, the crinoline from a favorite dress, one of dozens of dinners with her former fiancée.
The fires were burning and outside winter's white horses gathered into rolling beds of snow. Anora's glass was now empty so there was no further excuse to hide in the Petite Morte. Unless she had the crown for more.
Buxom servers had no charm for her, and most were currently perched on knees or bending over suggestively as they delivered food to the predominately male populace. It was a later candlemark, and the clientele was changing to reflect this new stretch of evening. Paying attention to Anora would be against the girls' best interests, as other sought to pay them more than a tip for drinks.
The man behind the bar would be quick about things, though. No need to belabor the process. Anora stood, gathering her skirts and began to waltz through the tables and warm bodies.
Some of the crowd was already soused, to her surprise. Anora had fancied it was an establishment that was expensive enough to discourage such habits. She passed beside one table with a well-cushioned bench and chairs pushed out from the table. The table's surface was resplendent with bottles of wine and half sipped glasses sparkling with topaz, ruby and amethyst colored liquid. It recalled a heavily ringed hand.
Anora glanced towards the ground, attempting to avoid eyes, but she found her path blocked by the outstretched leg of a patron as he inclined his face towards a server's soft bosom.
Plucking up her skirts a bit, Anora made to step over him. Out of habit, she murmured, "Excuse me, if you would be so kind…"
… as to leave Jaedaxia and find your own place to hide. At least that was how she wanted to complete the phrase, when she recognized Dimitri. But it only concluded with a hasty coloring of her temples and a rather somber,
"Oh."
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 26, 2008 at 04:59 AM.
Dimitri had a large grin on his face, the moment seemed to call for one naturally, he placed a kiss upon the neck of the girl and then rollded his head back enjoying his drunkeness. Then his brain even in its current state, recognised that voice above all others. His brain in a moment whirred into life and a hand came and patted the bottom of the wench on his lap, "Shoo shoo." He said softly as he lifted her from him and sent her on her way, a waste of money true but damage limitation was key here.
In a voice he tried to control into something reasonably respectable he spoke, "Lady Eventide.....sooo good to shee you." He broke out in a small laugh as he spoke and continued, "Have not sheen you since...youuu....broke my heart....hmmm?" He laughed again as he rolled his head back on his shoulders, "Sit with me if you like, old timesh....sake and all that."
Anora folded her hands in front of her, and averted her eyes from the parting girl to the ground, allowing Dimitri a dose of privacy. He was not hers to scold or curb anymore. Without looking up, she asked the girl, "Would you please bring some water? Thank you."
Anora looked at Dimitri as he slurred out a greeting. There was no censure over his renewed zeal for debauchery, only a quiet sort of acceptance. But his final phrase caused the woman to purse her lips in a faint show of discomfort.
"We both broke something, my Good Duke," was her gentle retort, spoken mostly to the table.
She finally looked up, almost meeting eyes.
"But you seem to be at no loss for pleasure." She hastily amended her comment.
"I do not mean that unkindly." Her voice was apologetic, "Your affairs are none of my business."
Anora glanced around her, taking in the crowd, the distance to the door, and whatever else could tempt her from his offer. With a demure nod and a quick resignation, she sat in a seat across from Dimitri, the table a safe barrier between them. Her shoulders bent forward a bit as she looked at her hands in her lap. She was folding and unfolding her fingers in subtle shows of agitation.
The arriving water, caused her to straighten and arrange some space on the table for the pitcher and glasses. The shrinking posture livened a degree as she poured two glasses, and pressed them both toward Dimitri.
"With such an array of wine, you should drink some water." A wan smile tugged her mouth briefly, "I would prefer you to not awake with a headache tomorrow."
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 26, 2008 at 08:56 PM.
Dimitri rested his head upon a hand and promptly fell off it having to replace himself carefully. Upon the arrival of the water he took a sip and grimaced, "You provide a man of Vortex with water?" He scowled and turned to a passing waitress, "Gin please, neat." He smiled carefully intending to drink his way through his discomfort tomorrow.
"I despise polite society for a variety....for a variety....of reasonsh Lady Eventides." He smiled carefully, a show of his normal sober self before he began to laugh again, "Why should you not care about my affairsh? I care about yours, I find myself jealous I cannot watch over you, I want to penetrate the curtain of etiquette that restains me."
He smiled and continued trying to control himself, "And you cannot make me feel guilty about pleasure, try....try.....try as you might indeed....." He coughed softly, "I fill a hole I cannot fill....hmm you think I want to be here.....hmmm, well to an extent I do...but there are places....some places I prefer to be."
He paused and cast his eyes up to hers, indeed locking them upon her. "You...you are so pretty.....three timesh..no ten more than any girl here." He nodded to himself and took a sip from the gin that appeared before him, "Drink with me? Just a drop, you are the only pershon I want to seee."
Anora sighed at the arriving gin and looked at it with a half a frown. He'd be on the floor by the time the conversation ended at this rate. But in the meanwhile he would manage to draw and quarter that portion of her finite heart she had lost to him.
All these drunken declarations of emotion were rather... messy. Her own feelings were dreadful enough as it was, each curve of the conversation and lonely impulse felt like having her head dunked under water. A sensation, Anora did not know her sister could sympathize with. It was terribly disorienting, kicking her off her wintry pedestal. To a normal creature she had marvelous restraint, but in her private appraisal she was unruly as a hooked fish.
Having little other answer, Anora calmly replied, "You are a trace muddled, my Good Duke."
But she would oblige him a degree, pouring a measure of her family's brew. Odd, she had thought he did not care for their vintage.
"A drop then."
Butit would take a cask of the stuff to reduce this daughter of the vineyards to the same state as her former fiancee.
She took a sip and began to address Dimitri's words, observing the legs of her wine as she spoke.
"Thank you for your concern, but I have managed well. I've yet to stumble for all the places I have been since Natura."
Another sip as she looked at Dimitri. It was a long pause as her bright eyes passed over and through him, stars returning the gaze of the earthbound.
"Why would you feel guilty, my Good Duke?"
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 26, 2008 at 09:29 PM.
"Why would I feel guilty?" he chuckled and shook his head, "A friend of mine once said to me....Dimitri....Dimitri he said, if it moves you will have it/" He nodded, "When I first shaw you I thought....I thought I will have her, becaush you aaare soo beautiful." He slumped onto the table and picked himself up, drinking more gin.
"But...I decided you may be a good marriage...." He paused, "A De Lylles had always taken my fanshy, but maybe I was aiming too high, so I decshided upon you." He took more gin and hiccuped quietly to himself, "I did not anticpate love, I never excshpekted any sort of love or anything, I never expected to feel it ever."
"Sho maybe I felt guilty, maybe." He paused and looked at her, "The funny thing ish, I never actually mished sex, it did not seem important somehow." He paused and hiccuped again, "You got rid of me quite quickly....I did...I did wonder if you just fancshied playing a game with me....was that it?"
"No, no game, Dimitri," Anora gave a rueful smile, and perched her chin on her hands.
"At least not the way you fear."
A bleakness colored her smiles and decorative arts fell away. It was not a complete woman that sat across from him. She was filled with sphinx blood and touched with a force too old to be called arcane. Whatever possessed her then, it was painfully real.
"So much is a game, my dear, but not unkindly. It is strategy and desire. I want so many simple things as much as I want great ones."
Anora held her glass up to harness the firelight in its rich heart, appreciating such common beauty. Then she promptly poured it into the glass of water, ruining the color and purity of both.
"Which represents me best, I am not sure. Empty of feeling or overwhelmed by sense?"
The glasses were arranged in front of the amatuer chemist and she studied each as she spoke.
"Simple things require schema, effort, and all must be measured for I have little heart to lose."
Anora looked up from her strange illustration.
"I thought you did not mind whether I was either of these, and believed I brought some good by keeping your company. Love is precious as is water, especially to those who have little. Your love was dear to me, but it had no form I could trust."
She leaned back in her chair, "Simply put, without rules I have no compass directing me toward what I want: to imitate wise, full people and please the gods."
A sad little smile and a whisper for a reply.
"You broke a rule I believed in, and those are all I have. You broke my heart just as well."
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 26, 2008 at 10:13 PM.
"Pah!" He said is loudly, not embarrasingly so but louder than he would of done sober.
"Only machines and dwarves live their lives by rules, people.....people are....so free." He tapped his head with a finger, "I have spent much of my life, trying....really trying to be free." He smiled carefully and hummed a happy tune for a moment, "I hoped....I really....really.....reaaaallly hoped you would change a little....you would become more like a proper person....what use is a girl born and raised....in a horrible gilded cage." He nodded and collapsed onto the table for a third time before picking himself up again and taking in more gin.
"The shape of our love....always tortured me." He smiled and secretly enjoyed the game of truths that was being revealed suddenly, "You think necromancy, playing with the dead and stuff, you think that pleases the gods..." He paused, "Oh I am sure Jalat was pleashed dont get me wrong, but you live by a very bizarre compass Lady Eventide." He paused, "Your shister was ever going to be a fatal flaw.....I just hoped you might pick me, or...trust in me for a while." He paused and leant back on his chair, almost toppled backwards and then wisely abandoned the idea.
"Shtill I have a friend you could marry who would never break your rules, hish name is Lord Trumpy of Oakwood and he is a table." He paused, "I doubt a table could break your rulesh, but it might give Avrie a splinter, shoooo that would be no good." He scoffed at his own joke finding it liberating to speak to her plainly and even bluntly for once.
"Truth ish, I loved....I suppose I still love you and I love freedom and the avant garde as the Jaedaxians call it." He nodded, "You love the old world and you love rules not me, if you loved me I would fit neatly into your world, you would have....you would have made space for me." He grinned and yawned for a moment, "I am a circle and you want me a square, I wont fit." He paused again for a little while and looked at her, "I shee why I gave you a chance though, you shtill are more beautiful than anyone else and from the outshide your rules are so perfect, but when exposed to them they are barbed and horrible." He yawned again and nodded, "The worst of it is they dont help you at all, they bleed you more than anyone else, tighter than any corset."
Dimitri's outburst startled Anora, though it should have been expected pickled as he was. It struck her that this was not the finest moment to speak seriously in, but wine did have a way of coaxing truth from Dimitri.
"Yes, it is an odd compass, I suppose." Anora's finger lightly traced the rim of the empty wineglass, it seemed she was always thinking of more than the topic at hand.
"But necromancy is deemed evil due to baseless fears. It is an arcane that draws on spirits and force like thaumaturgy or druidism."
Her finger stopped its slow circle on the lip of the glass, "That is a discussion for another time, but I would appreciate lowered tones when you comment on such things."
Anora turned her mind to the rest of Dimitri's speech, taking each thread from the skein and evaluating its color and placement in the overarching pattern.
"Why did I have to choose between you and Avrie, Dimitri? She brings me peace, would you see that taken from me? The portions of my heart are irrevocable once given."
An idea that seemed to trouble her and stir concern over her pristine brow.
"They are not grand portions but they are all I can spare."
Defeat was wearying the woman, and she seemed both marble and frail as she reverted to her ivory citadel.
"I did change for you, Dimitri. Even if you thought me barbed and horrible, I tried please while Har'oloth and fear balanced on my shoulders." The realization sulked on her tongue.
"What did you change for me? Keeping away from other women's arms?" She huffed a bitter laugh, "That is a common request."
Anora leaned forward, her ears poised to catch secrets, "Tell me true, I want to know if there was more that you curbed. Something I neither saw nor understood. Some proof I can point to when my shallow heart doubts."
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Last edited by Anora Eventide; June 26, 2008 at 11:01 PM.
Dimitri wafted a hand above himself, "Do not think giving up women was some.....humble...some humble request Lady Eventide." He paused and shooked his head, "I was well travelled....you might....some might say." He shook his head gently, "I...I wash different, I changed my life....I travelled with you...I learnt etiquette for you." He paused, "I imported gallonsh of Eventide wines above my whisky."
He chuckled, "I wash going to ask your cousin to recognise me as an Imperial noble....just becaush I felt you deserved a proper title....not some meaningless Barbari relic." He smiled carefully, "I would have done anything for you.....I would shtill do anything for you." He smiled and finished his gin, carefully he gulped down the liquid and watched her, his keen blue eyes focused suddenly.
"Anything? We both know that is not true, Dimitri." It was a soft declaration, almost tender. His glance was suddenly as focused as his partial sight could be. She matched his clarity, quieting the fever of the exchange.
"Else we would not each be nursing our wounds in Jaedaxia."
Anora showed him her profile and twisted a lock of her black hair between her fingers. Then, it struck her quite plainly. She would certainly not do "anything" merely because it pleased him. There were quite a few things she imagined he could concoct that she would flatly deny him. In fact she had already declined his requests on several occasions.
"It is not a matter of doing anything, but doing enough of the important things," she announced after a time. "To think otherwise is a notion too romantic: fitting to feel but foolish to demand." Anora mindlessly pushed the polluted glass away from her, "Avrie was an important thing to me, and I fear I have lost much of her regard over you."
Absorbed by her own reflections, Anora was quiet for a time. The strained tenor was winding down into something forgiving and familiar.
"While I do not fully comprehend a heart's reaction, whatever you spoke to my sister crossed her in pain. When she looked at me, she was reminded of something dreadful."
In truth, Anora had not foreseen that her habits and choices would result in that degree of suffering for her twin. Precisely because they didn't. Anora was a reminder of vicious candlemarks for Avrie, and her choices had given Dimitri access to her sister.
"My sister could not meet my eyes on her wedding day, an occasion we had dreamt of since girlhood. Whenever I entered her presence, I brought a leprosy to her thoughts."
Anora's slight spirit trickled away and her eyes were cast down for a time, sick with memory. Where there was a fragment of her heart, there was an aptitude for pain.
Anora again nudged the water toward Dimitri. On instinct, she tried to care for his wellbeing when he would not.
"This would have been a fine conversation to have when you were sober," Anora sighed, "But men say 'in wine truth'. Do they not?"
And there she sat at the intersection of disappointment and regret, her long dark hair a halo of shadows. Her hand rested on the table between them, adjacent the proffered water. It was the only instant she dared allowed any part of her to be nearer him.
__________________
"I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken."
*Life is very hectic, atm, please forgive my absence.*
Dimitri cast his eyes at the table for a moment, the drunken slurs soon vanished and in its place came his voice, calm as a lake and as violently soft as one could imagine. "Love is about displacement, people have a notion that it is the best of things, but love often breeds such ill effects." He smiled, "One of my forebears, fell in love with a wild mountain girl and when her clan killed her for falling for a man of the lowlands he butchered their tribe and planted their heads on pikes all along the Vortexian wall." He nodded, "My own father sent me to the church when his wife asked him to."
He cast his eyes up to her for a moment, then cast them down again, "He decided later he loved me, when he could no longer produce an heir and I became more than a strange little thing that lingered like a shadow around the estates." He smiled to himself and laughed bitterly, "Now they are all dead and my father receives my love, but it does him no good now." He crept a hand ever so slowly towards hers, his intention was obvious and it was her choice to act, she could keep her hand and Dimitri would take it or move it away and instead he would take the water..and save face.
"Your sister is married Anora, she has married a good man who acts out of integrity and out of compulsion, a man driven by a good heart and a mind overcome with zelous fervour." He smiled, "A man who spreads his love to his gods and to your sister, they will live a humble life without excitement and without passion that sits as a glorious center in any relationship." He paused, "Your sister is taken care of, I worry for you." He smiled slowly at the table again as though telling it his pain, "Do you love me still? Give me some final closure on this matter of all matters."
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