[identity profile] parras-siren.livejournal.com
Monday, 4th June
The cult enclave


I certainly haven't viewed the Carnival's return to Excolo with anything remotely approaching enthusiasm. I thought that it was finally out of my life - quite out! Like everyone else who stayed, I made my bargain with Management, and I have not regretted it for one single day. In the last while my life has been more pleasant and peaceful than I could have hoped for, and I have found a source of deep and abiding strength. Two, since I cannot describe my dear Polly as anything less than that!

I have become quite domestic in my own way, and have tea brewing as I know she'll be home soon. And then I can perhaps talk over some of my anxieties with her.

Open to Polly
[identity profile] parras-siren.livejournal.com
Monday, 3rd May, morning
Outside the Dormouse

I have become so very tired.

I feel as if I never woke up fully from that terrible dream. Sometimes it feels as if the whole town never did; everything has become muted, slightly greyed.

Some days I even miss the wretched Carnival. I was never lonely, there.

I haven't been busy at work, and every morning I look hard in my mirror for a long time, seeing the lines in my face. But this morning I've resolved to force myself into some kind of cheerfulness, so I've put on a pretty springlike dress and a light coat and come out to sit in the sun. The girl in the Dormouse kindly let me bring a chair outside, and I tip my face into the sun with my teacup cradled in my lap. Perhaps today will be better.

It's spring, after all.

[Open]
[identity profile] parras-siren.livejournal.com
Monday, 3rd May, morning
Outside the Dormouse

I have become so very tired.

I feel as if I never woke up fully from that terrible dream. Sometimes it feels as if the whole town never did; everything has become muted, slightly greyed.

Some days I even miss the wretched Carnival. I was never lonely, there.

I haven't been busy at work, and every morning I look hard in my mirror for a long time, seeing the lines in my face. But this morning I've resolved to force myself into some kind of cheerfulness, so I've put on a pretty springlike dress and a light coat and come out to sit in the sun. The girl in the Dormouse kindly let me bring a chair outside, and I tip my face into the sun with my teacup cradled in my lap. Perhaps today will be better.

It's spring, after all.

[Open]
[identity profile] pollyladon.livejournal.com
The second rising, Anthesterion (Wednesday, February 10th)
Early evening; Follow Me Boy


It has been a dull day, damp air and leaden skies, and after the events of Monday not at all sure am I that I should go into town. My daughter was caught up in that riot, and it might have gone ill for her. But she was safe, Ladon be thanked! I think on the matter a little more, and I change from my work clothes into something smarter. I hope it is appropriate.

Many months it has been since I laid down with a woman, and far longer since I bought a woman's time. The places where one can find servants of Sappho are rarer than I might like. I debated with myself over whether this was the right thing to do - not the morality of the act, for I do not mind that, but the spending of money on something for myself alone - but I at last decided I could be indulged. I have a very little coin set aside for my own use, and I think I may be allowed a little pleasure for myself alone from time to time, as long as it does not distract me from my duties. And indeed, perhaps it will help me in them, for it will, as a common phrase puts it, scratch an itch, and then I can put aside such wishes for several weeks. It is one of the benefits of ageing, I have found, that physical desire does not occupy so many of my thoughts. There is no sin in desire itself, but it can be a great distraction from one's duty.

Town seems thankfully quiet when I reach it, and the woman at the reception in the brothel pleasant and apparently unflustered that a woman of my years should be seeking a female companion, and I am pleased when she confirms that the woman is no girl; I do not like the idea of bedding down with a woman younger than my daughter. She tells me that she has a suitable person to whom I may speak and see if we get along.

[Open to Parras]
[identity profile] pollyladon.livejournal.com
The second rising, Anthesterion (Wednesday, February 10th)
Early evening; Follow Me Boy


It has been a dull day, damp air and leaden skies, and after the events of Monday not at all sure am I that I should go into town. My daughter was caught up in that riot, and it might have gone ill for her. But she was safe, Ladon be thanked! I think on the matter a little more, and I change from my work clothes into something smarter. I hope it is appropriate.

Many months it has been since I laid down with a woman, and far longer since I bought a woman's time. The places where one can find servants of Sappho are rarer than I might like. I debated with myself over whether this was the right thing to do - not the morality of the act, for I do not mind that, but the spending of money on something for myself alone - but I at last decided I could be indulged. I have a very little coin set aside for my own use, and I think I may be allowed a little pleasure for myself alone from time to time, as long as it does not distract me from my duties. And indeed, perhaps it will help me in them, for it will, as a common phrase puts it, scratch an itch, and then I can put aside such wishes for several weeks. It is one of the benefits of ageing, I have found, that physical desire does not occupy so many of my thoughts. There is no sin in desire itself, but it can be a great distraction from one's duty.

Town seems thankfully quiet when I reach it, and the woman at the reception in the brothel pleasant and apparently unflustered that a woman of my years should be seeking a female companion, and I am pleased when she confirms that the woman is no girl; I do not like the idea of bedding down with a woman younger than my daughter. She tells me that she has a suitable person to whom I may speak and see if we get along.

[Open to Parras]
[identity profile] nunaunet.livejournal.com
Tuesday night, the tavern

I ain't had a night on the town in a long time, ayuh. An' I'm always so careful round townies, but sometimes that jus' grates on me. Still a few days off the full moon, ayuh, so I need to shave if I ain't goin' to cause a scene; I want to wear somethin' pretty, an' people heah may be strangah than in many places but that don't mean their heads are much moah open to ideas about the propah way of things. So I get my face smooth, an' I put on some kohl an' wear a kaftan, and then I put some earrings in an' smile at myself in the mirror. Lookin' like a queen, ayuh.

Put on boots an' a coat when I go out, for it ain't warm yet though the snow's meltin', say thankya. Wave at a few people as I go but don't stop to say nothin'. I had enough of a headache with everyone goin' crazy these past few days. I didn't forget nothin', so far as I know, but then, I've got so much in my head it'd be hard to notice, you ken? Know theah's whole lifetimes I've forgot, ayuh, so if I lost recall of last Monday or forgot the price of steak it wouldn't necessarily strike me, ayuh.

Go on into the tavern. Know that boy Thomas recognises me, an' his eyes go a bit wide but he still smiles. Few people in heah, but none I recognise.

"A beeh, sweet," I say to Thomas, an' I take a seat. Get a ball of yarn an' some needles out of my bag, as well as a half-finished scarf I've been makin'. Good to have somethin' to do with my hands on long dark nights, ayuh.

[open]
[identity profile] nunaunet.livejournal.com
Tuesday night, the tavern

I ain't had a night on the town in a long time, ayuh. An' I'm always so careful round townies, but sometimes that jus' grates on me. Still a few days off the full moon, ayuh, so I need to shave if I ain't goin' to cause a scene; I want to wear somethin' pretty, an' people heah may be strangah than in many places but that don't mean their heads are much moah open to ideas about the propah way of things. So I get my face smooth, an' I put on some kohl an' wear a kaftan, and then I put some earrings in an' smile at myself in the mirror. Lookin' like a queen, ayuh.

Put on boots an' a coat when I go out, for it ain't warm yet though the snow's meltin', say thankya. Wave at a few people as I go but don't stop to say nothin'. I had enough of a headache with everyone goin' crazy these past few days. I didn't forget nothin', so far as I know, but then, I've got so much in my head it'd be hard to notice, you ken? Know theah's whole lifetimes I've forgot, ayuh, so if I lost recall of last Monday or forgot the price of steak it wouldn't necessarily strike me, ayuh.

Go on into the tavern. Know that boy Thomas recognises me, an' his eyes go a bit wide but he still smiles. Few people in heah, but none I recognise.

"A beeh, sweet," I say to Thomas, an' I take a seat. Get a ball of yarn an' some needles out of my bag, as well as a half-finished scarf I've been makin'. Good to have somethin' to do with my hands on long dark nights, ayuh.

[open]
[identity profile] parras-siren.livejournal.com
The Tavern
Wednesday, after midday


Well, this is all most exceedingly frustrating. I'm quite sure I'm here to meet some gentleman, but I cannot recall precisely which, or for that matter exactly where here is. It certainly doesn't look like the sort of place I'd normally meet with someone for a tête-à-tête, and why in heaven's name am I dressed like someone's unfortunate maiden aunt for the purpose? Someone's eccentric maiden aunt, given the amount of leg I'm showing. Anyone I meet will think I have been prematurely released from bedlam. I shall be the talk of Kemptown at this rate, and not in any way I would care to be.

If some gentleman has requested this of me, I most certainly will not be meeting with him again. Though why I cannot remember - well. Perhaps I am ill, and should take myself home. I'm most relieved that no one is staring at me, though this...drinking house, or whatever it may be, is hardly bustling at this time of day.

I consider signalling the man behind the bar to bring me a drink to calm myself, but really, the less attention I draw to myself the better.

Open
[identity profile] parras-siren.livejournal.com
The Tavern
Wednesday, after midday


Well, this is all most exceedingly frustrating. I'm quite sure I'm here to meet some gentleman, but I cannot recall precisely which, or for that matter exactly where here is. It certainly doesn't look like the sort of place I'd normally meet with someone for a tête-à-tête, and why in heaven's name am I dressed like someone's unfortunate maiden aunt for the purpose? Someone's eccentric maiden aunt, given the amount of leg I'm showing. Anyone I meet will think I have been prematurely released from bedlam. I shall be the talk of Kemptown at this rate, and not in any way I would care to be.

If some gentleman has requested this of me, I most certainly will not be meeting with him again. Though why I cannot remember - well. Perhaps I am ill, and should take myself home. I'm most relieved that no one is staring at me, though this...drinking house, or whatever it may be, is hardly bustling at this time of day.

I consider signalling the man behind the bar to bring me a drink to calm myself, but really, the less attention I draw to myself the better.

Open
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Late afternoon, Monday, January 4th, day 218]
[Follow Me Boy]



The day has finally come. I wish so very much that I could say that I was ready...and I wish even more that this was not necessary at all. It seems such a terribly irony that not so long ago I dressed the house in the trappings on a funeral for Wanda...and just as they are to come down....this occurs. And the cloths are cast over the mirrors, the gong set outside the door, the red silk veiling my goddesses...only this time there shall be a coffin to shield them from.

Struck on the head. Hung by her ankles. Boiled. Carved. Possibly cooked. Oh, Vale. Oh, I can hardly bear to think of it. Poor Vale, so silly and so sweet, so kind to her clients and eager to talk about her day with me. The kind of girl destined to meet a wealthy gentleman, to be invited into his household, be pampered and cared for and eventually sent away with enough "gifts" to last a lifetime. Not this. Poor, poor Vale. She was with us but a short time, but we will do our best for her. She deserved that much.

I dress in white again, the lack of colour a symbol of the presence of death in the house. The coffin is downstairs, in what would normally be the parlour. Glass and Lucien brought it...and Vale...here earlier today. We are closed for today, but I put out an announcement in the town that anyone who wished to pay their respects was welcome. Tomorrow morning poor, dear Vale will be placed in a crypt to wait for the ground to thaw.

I sigh, slipping an ivory comb into my hair before standing and moving to the stairs. Folk will be arriving soon, and I must be there to greet them.

[OPEN to those who wish to pay their respects]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Late afternoon, Monday, January 4th, day 218]
[Follow Me Boy]



The day has finally come. I wish so very much that I could say that I was ready...and I wish even more that this was not necessary at all. It seems such a terribly irony that not so long ago I dressed the house in the trappings on a funeral for Wanda...and just as they are to come down....this occurs. And the cloths are cast over the mirrors, the gong set outside the door, the red silk veiling my goddesses...only this time there shall be a coffin to shield them from.

Struck on the head. Hung by her ankles. Boiled. Carved. Possibly cooked. Oh, Vale. Oh, I can hardly bear to think of it. Poor Vale, so silly and so sweet, so kind to her clients and eager to talk about her day with me. The kind of girl destined to meet a wealthy gentleman, to be invited into his household, be pampered and cared for and eventually sent away with enough "gifts" to last a lifetime. Not this. Poor, poor Vale. She was with us but a short time, but we will do our best for her. She deserved that much.

I dress in white again, the lack of colour a symbol of the presence of death in the house. The coffin is downstairs, in what would normally be the parlour. Glass and Lucien brought it...and Vale...here earlier today. We are closed for today, but I put out an announcement in the town that anyone who wished to pay their respects was welcome. Tomorrow morning poor, dear Vale will be placed in a crypt to wait for the ground to thaw.

I sigh, slipping an ivory comb into my hair before standing and moving to the stairs. Folk will be arriving soon, and I must be there to greet them.

[OPEN to those who wish to pay their respects]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Late morning, Sunday, December 20th, day 203]
[Follow Me Boy]



Vale did not come home Wednesday night.

I was not concerned at first...she has made a few friends in town, and it is not terrifically unusual for her to spend a night out and tell no one. She is an adult, after all. And nor was I terribly concerned when she did not return on Thursday; it is her day off, and I supposed that she decided to spend it with whoever she stayed the night with. I wished that she would send word, but I was not concerned.

But then she did not come to work on Friday. Nor Saturday. Vale is perhaps a bit flighty, but she is a diligent worker, and it is unheard of for her to simply not show up. Her bed has not been slept in, and no one has seen her. Then, then I worry.

Sophie and Reed and Mrs. Danvers asked around the town. No one has seen her, not at the Whitechapel, not at the store, not Silk nor Main. They ask about town for most of Friday and Saturday, and by Saturday night I am frantic. We close our doors, though it is our busiest night, and we search her room for any sign, any note or message or indication as to where she might have gone. But there is nothing. And all of her possessions are still there, down to her clothing and the bag she had when she first arrived, so I doubt very much that she has moved on.

This morning I sent Sophie to Mab's office. And now I sit in our front room, and I wait. I pray that I am wrong, that the sick twisting in my belly is baseless...

...but I fear terribly that it is not.


[OPEN to Mab, Jack and those at Follow Me Boy]
[CLOSED]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Late morning, Sunday, December 20th, day 203]
[Follow Me Boy]



Vale did not come home Wednesday night.

I was not concerned at first...she has made a few friends in town, and it is not terrifically unusual for her to spend a night out and tell no one. She is an adult, after all. And nor was I terribly concerned when she did not return on Thursday; it is her day off, and I supposed that she decided to spend it with whoever she stayed the night with. I wished that she would send word, but I was not concerned.

But then she did not come to work on Friday. Nor Saturday. Vale is perhaps a bit flighty, but she is a diligent worker, and it is unheard of for her to simply not show up. Her bed has not been slept in, and no one has seen her. Then, then I worry.

Sophie and Reed and Mrs. Danvers asked around the town. No one has seen her, not at the Whitechapel, not at the store, not Silk nor Main. They ask about town for most of Friday and Saturday, and by Saturday night I am frantic. We close our doors, though it is our busiest night, and we search her room for any sign, any note or message or indication as to where she might have gone. But there is nothing. And all of her possessions are still there, down to her clothing and the bag she had when she first arrived, so I doubt very much that she has moved on.

This morning I sent Sophie to Mab's office. And now I sit in our front room, and I wait. I pray that I am wrong, that the sick twisting in my belly is baseless...

...but I fear terribly that it is not.


[OPEN to Mab, Jack and those at Follow Me Boy]
[CLOSED]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon, Wednesday, December 16th, Day 199]
[Follow Me Boy]



For most of the past two days I have been abed. My feet had swollen to such a terrible degree after my walk to the tower that we were forced to cut my shoes off, and even after soaking them for hours the pain barely abated. Today was the first day I felt strong enough to risk standing and walking, and even then I am using my cane within the house, something I would normally never have to do. But the pain in my feet is nothing compared to the pain in my heart, the pain that my dearest friend is walking willingly to her death, and that I can do nothing to stop her. I pray that she will come to her senses before Monday...but I fear it will not be so. I have made my feelings to her clear...I refuse to treat her like a child by berating and nagging her. And so that means that all I can do is wait, and waiting is agony.

So distracted am I that I barely noticed the snow starting earlier. But now it is impossible not to see; large flakes whipped by the wind to tap against our windows. I can see it starting to drift in the streets, blowing in swirling clouds like phantoms down the road. Adonis is already in, Carmelo I expect will not come, nor will I blame him. I expect we will have few clients today...

...but when I see Sophie preparing to lock the doors, I bid her not to. I do not know that we shall be open for business, but I will leave no one trapped out there. Build up the fire, I say, and prepare two guest rooms and an extra for Adonis, just in case. Mrs. Danvers, even without my word, has begun preparing a large pot of soup and other hot, savoury foods.

Quietly, I sit by the window. I expect it shall be a long day...and a long night as well.


[OPEN]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon, Wednesday, December 16th, Day 199]
[Follow Me Boy]



For most of the past two days I have been abed. My feet had swollen to such a terrible degree after my walk to the tower that we were forced to cut my shoes off, and even after soaking them for hours the pain barely abated. Today was the first day I felt strong enough to risk standing and walking, and even then I am using my cane within the house, something I would normally never have to do. But the pain in my feet is nothing compared to the pain in my heart, the pain that my dearest friend is walking willingly to her death, and that I can do nothing to stop her. I pray that she will come to her senses before Monday...but I fear it will not be so. I have made my feelings to her clear...I refuse to treat her like a child by berating and nagging her. And so that means that all I can do is wait, and waiting is agony.

So distracted am I that I barely noticed the snow starting earlier. But now it is impossible not to see; large flakes whipped by the wind to tap against our windows. I can see it starting to drift in the streets, blowing in swirling clouds like phantoms down the road. Adonis is already in, Carmelo I expect will not come, nor will I blame him. I expect we will have few clients today...

...but when I see Sophie preparing to lock the doors, I bid her not to. I do not know that we shall be open for business, but I will leave no one trapped out there. Build up the fire, I say, and prepare two guest rooms and an extra for Adonis, just in case. Mrs. Danvers, even without my word, has begun preparing a large pot of soup and other hot, savoury foods.

Quietly, I sit by the window. I expect it shall be a long day...and a long night as well.


[OPEN]
[identity profile] kateohara.livejournal.com
Late Wednesday afternoon

The shadows are lengthening in the store, even with the electric light on. It's been a gloomy sort of day, hardly any light, but the store feels cosy. Christmas is coming, and I've nailed an evergreen wreath to the door of the store. It's a little early for me to put up my own Christmas decorations, but it's nice to have the store decorated. Inside I have put holly branches in vases. We don't grow a lot of holly around here, but there's a trader from a little way east who brings in bushels of it. I bought some at the market this Saturday. It makes me think of a carol we used to sing at school, although I've never heard anyone in Excolo sing it. The holly bears a berry/As red as any blood/And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ/To do poor sinners good. I look at the red berries glinting between the green leaves and think things in this town always seem to come down to blood, one way or another.

I shrug away the thought. I have to stop dwelling on the oddities of Excolo. It's hard, though. On Friday, after I saw Simon, I came home. Tess visited with me, and I couldn't think of how to talk about what I'd seen. Curled against her back when we went to bed, I whispered "I met an angel" in the dark. The wonder of it is like trying to look into the sun.

I was glad that I saw Laurence on Monday. I feel slightly guilty that I wasn't completely honest with him... But I also feel like I need to talk to Tess before I say anything about us. She's been staying at my apartment quite often. I wonder how long it will take before people start talking about us, and how we'll both deal with that.

It's been a quiet afternoon in the store, giving me leisure to think about things like this. It's nearly time to close, and I'm not sure I'll have any more customers today. I try to shake off this pensive mood by restacking the preserves and humming to myself.

Israel's Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art-
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.


[OPEN]
[closed]
[identity profile] kateohara.livejournal.com
Late Wednesday afternoon

The shadows are lengthening in the store, even with the electric light on. It's been a gloomy sort of day, hardly any light, but the store feels cosy. Christmas is coming, and I've nailed an evergreen wreath to the door of the store. It's a little early for me to put up my own Christmas decorations, but it's nice to have the store decorated. Inside I have put holly branches in vases. We don't grow a lot of holly around here, but there's a trader from a little way east who brings in bushels of it. I bought some at the market this Saturday. It makes me think of a carol we used to sing at school, although I've never heard anyone in Excolo sing it. The holly bears a berry/As red as any blood/And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ/To do poor sinners good. I look at the red berries glinting between the green leaves and think things in this town always seem to come down to blood, one way or another.

I shrug away the thought. I have to stop dwelling on the oddities of Excolo. It's hard, though. On Friday, after I saw Simon, I came home. Tess visited with me, and I couldn't think of how to talk about what I'd seen. Curled against her back when we went to bed, I whispered "I met an angel" in the dark. The wonder of it is like trying to look into the sun.

I was glad that I saw Laurence on Monday. I feel slightly guilty that I wasn't completely honest with him... But I also feel like I need to talk to Tess before I say anything about us. She's been staying at my apartment quite often. I wonder how long it will take before people start talking about us, and how we'll both deal with that.

It's been a quiet afternoon in the store, giving me leisure to think about things like this. It's nearly time to close, and I'm not sure I'll have any more customers today. I try to shake off this pensive mood by restacking the preserves and humming to myself.

Israel's Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art-
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.


[OPEN]
[closed]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Saturday, November 28th (Day 181)]
[Evening - Follow Me Boy]


This past week or so has been almost unbearable, as though everything has decided to conspire against me since that dreadful Wednesday evening with Glass in shambles and Iago near to yelling.  Everything worked out, as it always does, but I think there's still a part of me left on edge, especially when we're apart.  Excolo can be quite the dangerous place at times.  It bothers me to think along those lines, bothers me that it should even bother me, actually, and I worry after them both.

It certainly doesn't help that the shop has been so busy as of late.  Any other time and I believe I would have welcomed the distraction, the chance to lose myself in a bit of tedium.  But, no.  Most in town are simply after cold weather clothes and, as the racks are full and I have no custom orders slated, there's nothing for me to do beyond watch Damien and Winnie bustle about the shop, idly wondering what to make for dinner when the day is finally done.

Today I made beef stew with potatoes.  It was nice enough, though I'll have to say something to Simon next I visit as the shoulder roast was a little tough and I'd planned on cooking steak.  Nothing a slow stewing and a bit of beer marinade couldn't fix, of course.  

After dinner, I find it strangely difficult to summon the proper motivation to get up.  I'd decided, days ago really, that I should drop by Follow Me Boy on Saturday.  Yet, here it is, Saturday evening and I can't bring myself to do anything other than lounge on the couch with Glass at the other end, a good book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and Iago's usual prattle playing as background music.

Time trickles past until the clock chimes begin to gather in far larger numbers than I'd intended.  I glance up, make myself take note of the time, and do everything in my power to make excuses before the resolve leaves me.  From there I have to shower, dress, grab a bit of money from the lock box.  It's all very taxing when my heart isn't in it.  Funny that.

Once I make it outside, of course, it's a fair bit easier and by the time I make it to the front steps of Follow Me Boy I can't imagine being anywhere else.  It really has been too long, my mind really is far too cluttered as of late, and I need the break.  Hell, I'm even willing to admit I need the company, a friendly and familiar face that doesn't set my stomach to churning every few moments the way Glass and Iago can.  A return to routine - blessed, blessed routine - if nothing else.

I wait to be buzzed in, immediately heading to the front desk as soon as I hear the mechanism click, smile on my face.  I can't imagine that it's a secret as to who I'm here to see anymore, so there's no reason to bring up that fact.  Instead, I lean against the desk with a grin that's all for the woman behind it, feeling more comfortable by the moment.  "That recipe was divine, Mrs Danvers, I must say."

[Open to all at Follow Me Boy]


[Caution: Possibly disturbing discussion of rape/violence]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Saturday, November 28th (Day 181)]
[Evening - Follow Me Boy]


This past week or so has been almost unbearable, as though everything has decided to conspire against me since that dreadful Wednesday evening with Glass in shambles and Iago near to yelling.  Everything worked out, as it always does, but I think there's still a part of me left on edge, especially when we're apart.  Excolo can be quite the dangerous place at times.  It bothers me to think along those lines, bothers me that it should even bother me, actually, and I worry after them both.

It certainly doesn't help that the shop has been so busy as of late.  Any other time and I believe I would have welcomed the distraction, the chance to lose myself in a bit of tedium.  But, no.  Most in town are simply after cold weather clothes and, as the racks are full and I have no custom orders slated, there's nothing for me to do beyond watch Damien and Winnie bustle about the shop, idly wondering what to make for dinner when the day is finally done.

Today I made beef stew with potatoes.  It was nice enough, though I'll have to say something to Simon next I visit as the shoulder roast was a little tough and I'd planned on cooking steak.  Nothing a slow stewing and a bit of beer marinade couldn't fix, of course.  

After dinner, I find it strangely difficult to summon the proper motivation to get up.  I'd decided, days ago really, that I should drop by Follow Me Boy on Saturday.  Yet, here it is, Saturday evening and I can't bring myself to do anything other than lounge on the couch with Glass at the other end, a good book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and Iago's usual prattle playing as background music.

Time trickles past until the clock chimes begin to gather in far larger numbers than I'd intended.  I glance up, make myself take note of the time, and do everything in my power to make excuses before the resolve leaves me.  From there I have to shower, dress, grab a bit of money from the lock box.  It's all very taxing when my heart isn't in it.  Funny that.

Once I make it outside, of course, it's a fair bit easier and by the time I make it to the front steps of Follow Me Boy I can't imagine being anywhere else.  It really has been too long, my mind really is far too cluttered as of late, and I need the break.  Hell, I'm even willing to admit I need the company, a friendly and familiar face that doesn't set my stomach to churning every few moments the way Glass and Iago can.  A return to routine - blessed, blessed routine - if nothing else.

I wait to be buzzed in, immediately heading to the front desk as soon as I hear the mechanism click, smile on my face.  I can't imagine that it's a secret as to who I'm here to see anymore, so there's no reason to bring up that fact.  Instead, I lean against the desk with a grin that's all for the woman behind it, feeling more comfortable by the moment.  "That recipe was divine, Mrs Danvers, I must say."

[Open to all at Follow Me Boy]


[Caution: Possibly disturbing discussion of rape/violence]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
Saturday, October 31st
Evening
The Home of Alessandra Ferdis



The last few days have been, at best, a blur of activity and I can't say that it's left me in the best of spirits.  Party planning is always a chore, even a gathering as small as this, and I suppose it's the price to be paid - blood, sweat, and countless hours spent hunched over fabric - for an evening of excitement.  Alessandra has been more than accommodating, as I've measured, decorated, and almost completely reordered most of her house.  It will take some time, tomorrow once the festivities are well over, to put things back to sorts, but I've already hired hands to assist in that.

That is one benefit of living in Excolo, there is never a shortage of strong backs willing to do a bit of labor for good pay, and in a matter of days the entire place has been transformed into something resembling a fitting locale.  The walls have been covered with lush fabrics, the garden littered with a multitude of hanging lights, and the main room leading to the back cleared for the guests.  After that, it's only been a matter of setting up the refreshments, finding a suitable place for the music, and dimming the lights.

I could kill myself over the details of course, it's in my nature, and so as soon as things are well in hand, I retire to the upstairs guest suite to dress.  It's a simple design, more a personal amusement than anything else, and I doubt anyone will get the joke.  Those always are the best sorts of fun, though, the personal chuckles that are mine alone.  I finish strapping my sword to my side, mask still sitting on a nearby table, and cross to the balcony doors to peek outside.  The sun has faded into the horizon and guests have started to arrive.  That leaves me with a bit of time - I have no intention on making anything less than a memorable entrance - and so I lean against the door frame, careful to keep out of sight of those out front, and light a cigarette.

There's movement from the adjacent dressing room.  Glass.  I'd nearly forgotten, in the insanity of preparations, that she was dressing here as well.  It certainly wouldn't do to have Iago see her before the game has begun, after all.  I smile at that and call out, "You can't hide in there all evening, pet.  Might as well come out and let me have a look."

[Open]

[It's midnight!  Wrapping up!]

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