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≈ 狐之傲，龙之贪 ║ ʄᴏx'ꜱ Ꭾʀɪᴅᴇ & ໓ʀᴀɢᴏɴ'ꜱ คᴠᴀʀɪᴄᴇ. ║ ʀᴜɪɴ & ƒᴇʀᴀʟ
- Thread starter Ruin
- Start date
OP
OP
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2022
Shiyako-chō, a town born of former swampland, had long been decorated to curtail the tastes of wealthy merchants and sequester the deviancies of Imperial heirs. Ribbons of wide streets stretched beneath a veil of red lantern light, woven with silk markets and wine sellers, and cut cleanly by the bridged flow of the native river. Minka buildings housed a menagerie of entertainment for the weary traveller, but in particular, Shiyako-chō was known was known for its abundant offering of comfort. The crowded streets often saw the presence of wandering geisha, masked and mysterious and purposed to lure passersby into the seclusion of their respective yūjo houses.
Aside from its visual allure, much of the district's popularity owed the the existence of the Kameyama House, whose beautifully painted architecture paid host to its long-standing tayū and notorious guardian, Saia-omi.
Aside from its visual allure, much of the district's popularity owed the the existence of the Kameyama House, whose beautifully painted architecture paid host to its long-standing tayū and notorious guardian, Saia-omi.
While none could remember the arrival of the kitsune, all paid heed to the status by which she carried herself and assumed the fae-creature had existed for as long as the town itself. Saia-omi, often playfully nicknamed Saia-hime by credence of her haughty nature, had long nested herself within a comfort house which almost appeared to have been built around her as a shrine. Red pillars bordered the warm glow of near-opaque sliding doors, painted with graceful koi and blossoms, and laid upon an interior stretch of coarse tatami. The walls had been decorated with tokens and valuables collected during her age-long hosting, bearing delicate chinaware and gold-plated ornaments which had been bestowed upon her by countless visitors. Even where she sat, upon a raised dais platform against the wall, she was surrounded by her spoils: cushions and blankets of silk and fine furs, cups of silver and gold, and the finely crafted katanas left behind in offering by numerous swordsmen.
Perched amidst the silvery fur of nine, plush tails, Saia-omi's presence was that of an elegeant centrepiece, clad in a heavy, red hemp kimono and draped by the bulk of a pale obi. The smooth black tresses of her hair had been tamed by beautifully crafted hairpins, keeping clear of blood-red eyes which often hazed with the cold blue of foxfire, and allowing her gaze to rest upon the newest addition to her brood. Lanternlight cast her imposing shadow upon the wall behind her, and the tiny points of her clawed fingers cradled a clay pallet as she a brush into crimson paint, carefully staining the lips of the young woman who knelt before her.
Such was a geisha's ritual, anointed into the house by the quiet detailing of Saia-omi, who studied the girl's features with vulpine intensity. This particular mortal had been taken into the care of the Kameyama House while her sole relatives had been called into conflict -- an origin story the kitsune had partaken in countless times before. Such was the bleakness of the girl's situation that she began to sniffle at the climax of her redressing, desperately stifling tears as to not ruin the makeup the oiran had spent so long applying.
"You shame yourself." Saia-omi spoke firmly, her voice a melodic call as she set her paint aside. Slim fingers reached to clasp the fledgling courtesan's chin between her nails, lifting her portrait upward to meet the fanged smirk of her mentor. "You will be a fine companion upon your return home. You were born beautiful, and I will teach you how to hone it." Her voice was venom-laced nectar, breathed through playful, scarlet lips.
"Excuse me." A quiet voice was heard to the left of the room, and the kitsune's ears rotated to meet it, eyes adjusting to watch the sliding doors partly open and reveal a courtesan who knelt in respectful prostration. "They're starting to arrive."
"Already? Tsk, the sun is barely down." Indeed, Shiyako-chō's dormancy throughout the daytime was met with glowing beauty upon nightfall. She released her hold of the girl's face, waving her fingers in passive dismissal and adjusting herself so that she might stand with serenity. The weight of her attire pooled downward as she did so, sitting oosely around her shoulders and draped around the generous swell of her breasts. The many jewels of her upper body were partly concealed as they sank between them. "Set these tables with haste, then -- the good masters need their drink."
Lidded eyes gazed vacantly across her domain as her brood flittered to prepare for the night, setting down choko cups and ridged bottles of fine sake upon the fine woodwork of long, chabudai tables. Brothels and pleasure houses like this one were known as places of diplomacy, often acting as moot-points for political gatherings with the promise of secrecy and the company of geisha long-trained into silent indifference. In a display of such promise, each courtesan knelt quietly along the edge of the room upon completed preparation, heads dipped in anticipation of their awaited visitors. But it was a heavily trained facade, and an emulation of their beloved head of house, who was born as a creature known for its cunning. Saia-omi had taught them the art of manipulation, and the subtle prying of information from their enamoured shogunate customers.
Seldom did her kin tangle with the conflicts of mortals, but Saia-omi was particularly privy to the allure of chaos, and moreso towards the promise of rare and beautiful ornaments and the attractive nobles who offered them. To garner and distribute information amidst a yokai-infected shogunate was a thrilling concept, and one which illicited no shred of fear whatsoever as she yearned to taste the souls of her most beautiful visitors. Her courtesans were a mere extension of her visage, but she was kitsune, and one of grand status at that. Her position on the foodchain was... difficult to challenge, and her pride matched it perfectly.
Though she would stoicly reserve herself for only the most lavish of customers, tonight she took up the position of house front, actively performing beyond her usual lounging display and pulling at sly, spymaster strings.
Perched amidst the silvery fur of nine, plush tails, Saia-omi's presence was that of an elegeant centrepiece, clad in a heavy, red hemp kimono and draped by the bulk of a pale obi. The smooth black tresses of her hair had been tamed by beautifully crafted hairpins, keeping clear of blood-red eyes which often hazed with the cold blue of foxfire, and allowing her gaze to rest upon the newest addition to her brood. Lanternlight cast her imposing shadow upon the wall behind her, and the tiny points of her clawed fingers cradled a clay pallet as she a brush into crimson paint, carefully staining the lips of the young woman who knelt before her.
Such was a geisha's ritual, anointed into the house by the quiet detailing of Saia-omi, who studied the girl's features with vulpine intensity. This particular mortal had been taken into the care of the Kameyama House while her sole relatives had been called into conflict -- an origin story the kitsune had partaken in countless times before. Such was the bleakness of the girl's situation that she began to sniffle at the climax of her redressing, desperately stifling tears as to not ruin the makeup the oiran had spent so long applying.
"You shame yourself." Saia-omi spoke firmly, her voice a melodic call as she set her paint aside. Slim fingers reached to clasp the fledgling courtesan's chin between her nails, lifting her portrait upward to meet the fanged smirk of her mentor. "You will be a fine companion upon your return home. You were born beautiful, and I will teach you how to hone it." Her voice was venom-laced nectar, breathed through playful, scarlet lips.
"Excuse me." A quiet voice was heard to the left of the room, and the kitsune's ears rotated to meet it, eyes adjusting to watch the sliding doors partly open and reveal a courtesan who knelt in respectful prostration. "They're starting to arrive."
"Already? Tsk, the sun is barely down." Indeed, Shiyako-chō's dormancy throughout the daytime was met with glowing beauty upon nightfall. She released her hold of the girl's face, waving her fingers in passive dismissal and adjusting herself so that she might stand with serenity. The weight of her attire pooled downward as she did so, sitting oosely around her shoulders and draped around the generous swell of her breasts. The many jewels of her upper body were partly concealed as they sank between them. "Set these tables with haste, then -- the good masters need their drink."
Lidded eyes gazed vacantly across her domain as her brood flittered to prepare for the night, setting down choko cups and ridged bottles of fine sake upon the fine woodwork of long, chabudai tables. Brothels and pleasure houses like this one were known as places of diplomacy, often acting as moot-points for political gatherings with the promise of secrecy and the company of geisha long-trained into silent indifference. In a display of such promise, each courtesan knelt quietly along the edge of the room upon completed preparation, heads dipped in anticipation of their awaited visitors. But it was a heavily trained facade, and an emulation of their beloved head of house, who was born as a creature known for its cunning. Saia-omi had taught them the art of manipulation, and the subtle prying of information from their enamoured shogunate customers.
Seldom did her kin tangle with the conflicts of mortals, but Saia-omi was particularly privy to the allure of chaos, and moreso towards the promise of rare and beautiful ornaments and the attractive nobles who offered them. To garner and distribute information amidst a yokai-infected shogunate was a thrilling concept, and one which illicited no shred of fear whatsoever as she yearned to taste the souls of her most beautiful visitors. Her courtesans were a mere extension of her visage, but she was kitsune, and one of grand status at that. Her position on the foodchain was... difficult to challenge, and her pride matched it perfectly.
Though she would stoicly reserve herself for only the most lavish of customers, tonight she took up the position of house front, actively performing beyond her usual lounging display and pulling at sly, spymaster strings.
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
「 𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔛𝔦𝔞𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔫 」
ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ's ʜᴏᴡʟ
Lóng. A puissant word uttered with a clenched burst of air whistling past pursed lips, the pronunciation of which hinted at the nature of the myth. Lóng was regality personified, the serpent sprawled upon the emperor's robe, each wicked talon and gleaming scale traced and retraced with threads of gold. Lóng was the venerated Guardian of the East, Bringer of Rain, Overseer of Spring, Lord of Storms and Ruler of Seas. Lóng was power, force of will and force of nature, valorous and ferocious and free. Lóng was the steward defender, the dauntless warrior, the voice of thunder and the wrath of tempests, whirlwinds, and monsoons. But not all legends of dragons echoed such adulation. To the emperors, the minstrels sang the cautionary tale of the conceited dragon, more ornery than its horns and stubborn down to the marrow. The thrumming guzheng warned of the consequences of such arrogance - the wrath of the Emperor of Heaven and the caustic reprimand that followed. To the courtesans, a different tune was woven by the glib-tongued poets. A dragon again, but this time, charismatic beyond imagination, wooer of beauties and an indiscriminate thief when it came to hearts and chastities. That five-clawed beast, lustful, hedonic and carnal, insatiable and virile and from whose loins the ruling Huisong Dynasty proclaimed its lineage. Whether there were any veracity to the claim, who was to say? And, in the land just beyond Huisong's borders, the dissatisfied peasantry grumbled. Flat-bellied and flat-footed, they decried a dragon's avarice and rebelled against the Shogun that took and took and took, taxed and taxed and taxed, and mourned the backs that broke under the ceaseless and impossible onus. There was only one truth that all could agree upon - above all, a dragon was everything and more, the symbol of extremes and the yearning of mortal dreams. | ALILLONG | 
|
Of course, legends and myths were just that, fanciful musings of mortals whose time was too short to truly understand what it was that they spoke of.
The reality was never so simple.
In all actuality, no two dragons were the same. Power came at a cost and there was hierarchy, rules and expectations. Lineage was jealously guarded and, for those whose veins carried heavenly blood, there was always duty to think of.
For Xiaotian - Heaven's Howl, because how could any dragon resist a pretentious namesake - duty mandated her presence in Shiyako-chō this day. The mortals liked to draw their silly territorial lines, but as far as she was concerned, everything under the sky was part of Heaven's domain, and, by extension, something she had some obligations to safeguard. There had been murmurs. Easily disregardable at first, but louder and louder with each passing day. Or perhaps it had been months and years? Time was an elusive concept to those who were not subject to its authority. Her duty did not tend to extend so far east but, the yokai-infected shogunate was getting a teeny bit too restless, and that was not something she was allowed to disregard.
Fortunately or unfortunately, even Xiaotian had to confine her meddling within reasonable parameters. Although there never was and never will be a formal treaty between the Nine Divisions of Heaven and the Ten Courts of Hell, the respective rulers of each had made expectations abundantly clear. Much as a demonic being might revel at any opportunity to invite chaos and bloodshed (Xiaotian too, if she were being honest), the Balance was not something anyone or anything could afford to fuck with by risking all out war.
And so, subtlety. Gentle, like the decisive placement of a stone in a game of go, with effects that rippled - a swift pluck at the zither's string, the melody echoing and echoing…
Ah, but she was having a bit too much fun though. Dallying at a soba stand here, sampling a few bites of fresh fruits there…the sun was well and truly set before she made it anywhere near her destination.
On the other hand, the shogunate representatives were not so tardy.
Nakagawa Takuya fancied himself an enterprising man. While his ambitions were plain to see, he had made himself useful to the Shogun and earned his distinctions with tasks well-executed. He wore no formal titles, but that suited Takuya just fine as he preferred to be the hand that operated behind the scenes. It was telling perhaps, that when he was not busy scheming or charming his way through high society, he loved to waste his time staging shadow puppet shows.
Well before the pre-ordained time, he and his men had already settled into the Kameyama House and made themselves comfortable. Not enough to fill the building, but enough to maintain a semblance of normalcy as they sipped at sake and chit-chatted amongst themselves. He paid in advance for booking the whole place, of course. In coins, and more importantly, in favors and shiny things. This wouldn't be his first time hosting in the Kameyama House. He liked to think that he had an excellent working relationship with Saia-hime. He also liked to think that she was good at following the cardinal rules of her profession - ensuring that what was said in Kameyama stayed in Kameyama.
The bells had rung twice since his arrival, and Takuya was beginning to fidget. He dabbed at his forehead with his sleeves. Would his diplomatic overtures fail before they even began? No, he needed this to work. This would be his masterpiece --
The reality was never so simple.
In all actuality, no two dragons were the same. Power came at a cost and there was hierarchy, rules and expectations. Lineage was jealously guarded and, for those whose veins carried heavenly blood, there was always duty to think of.
For Xiaotian - Heaven's Howl, because how could any dragon resist a pretentious namesake - duty mandated her presence in Shiyako-chō this day. The mortals liked to draw their silly territorial lines, but as far as she was concerned, everything under the sky was part of Heaven's domain, and, by extension, something she had some obligations to safeguard. There had been murmurs. Easily disregardable at first, but louder and louder with each passing day. Or perhaps it had been months and years? Time was an elusive concept to those who were not subject to its authority. Her duty did not tend to extend so far east but, the yokai-infected shogunate was getting a teeny bit too restless, and that was not something she was allowed to disregard.
Fortunately or unfortunately, even Xiaotian had to confine her meddling within reasonable parameters. Although there never was and never will be a formal treaty between the Nine Divisions of Heaven and the Ten Courts of Hell, the respective rulers of each had made expectations abundantly clear. Much as a demonic being might revel at any opportunity to invite chaos and bloodshed (Xiaotian too, if she were being honest), the Balance was not something anyone or anything could afford to fuck with by risking all out war.
And so, subtlety. Gentle, like the decisive placement of a stone in a game of go, with effects that rippled - a swift pluck at the zither's string, the melody echoing and echoing…
Ah, but she was having a bit too much fun though. Dallying at a soba stand here, sampling a few bites of fresh fruits there…the sun was well and truly set before she made it anywhere near her destination.
On the other hand, the shogunate representatives were not so tardy.
Nakagawa Takuya fancied himself an enterprising man. While his ambitions were plain to see, he had made himself useful to the Shogun and earned his distinctions with tasks well-executed. He wore no formal titles, but that suited Takuya just fine as he preferred to be the hand that operated behind the scenes. It was telling perhaps, that when he was not busy scheming or charming his way through high society, he loved to waste his time staging shadow puppet shows.
Well before the pre-ordained time, he and his men had already settled into the Kameyama House and made themselves comfortable. Not enough to fill the building, but enough to maintain a semblance of normalcy as they sipped at sake and chit-chatted amongst themselves. He paid in advance for booking the whole place, of course. In coins, and more importantly, in favors and shiny things. This wouldn't be his first time hosting in the Kameyama House. He liked to think that he had an excellent working relationship with Saia-hime. He also liked to think that she was good at following the cardinal rules of her profession - ensuring that what was said in Kameyama stayed in Kameyama.
The bells had rung twice since his arrival, and Takuya was beginning to fidget. He dabbed at his forehead with his sleeves. Would his diplomatic overtures fail before they even began? No, he needed this to work. This would be his masterpiece --
♫
"Ah! Here's the place." The discretely-clad samurais he had stationed at the entrance parted to allow the newcomer inside, a foreigner who managed to perfectly straddle the line of looking like she belonged and looking like she was out of place.
First, there was that outfit of hers. It was impossible to pinpoint exactly where she got the style from. Those high collars were reminiscent of formalwear favored in certain provinces, but stiffer and higher. The layered lapels were not unlike a kimono but not quite that either. The augmented shoulders were entirely a flair of her own design, coupled with gold-gilded greaves that ended in sandals just to compound the absurdity. In all honesty, it kind of looked like Xiaotian just glued together bits and pieces of fashion trends she liked, and this was her disastrous magnum opus. Extreme wealth and extreme idiosyncrasies - her raiment proclaimed.
And that was just her clothing. All dragons were vain to an extent, and Xiaotian was no different. While in her not so humble opinion, nothing would compare to the majesty of her true form, she quite liked this mortal guise she wore. Be it the utter perfection of her complexion or the insolent streaks of sanguine interspersed through the midnight hue, her appearance was flawless down to the last detail. She wore her hair up, in a style most commonly associated with princes and generals, and personalized it with twin braids of that incredibly eye-catching shade. Cinched by incandescent pearls, because what was the point of a treasure trove if she didn't show it off?
Then there were those eyes of hers. Blood-red, like her painted lips, richer than plum wine and brighter than the flare of firecrackers. Leaving aside the extremely unusual shade, there was something about them that would make it hard for a mortal to meet her eyes. Too bright. Too saturated. Too cocky and commanding and sharp. Like she saw through whoever she gazed upon, parted the silks and lies and beheld the heart of the issue. Too…old, hinting at intellect and experience that belied her youthful appearance.
But right now, some of that sharpness was tempered by the easy smile she wore. Her hair swished like an animated tail as she made a beeline over to Takuya and plopped herself down on one of those soft tatami mats directly opposite him. She wasted no time to sample the sake, only to immediately frown and set the cup down. "Urg, what is this atrocity." It really wasn't that bad, but she had a flair for theatrics and, more importantly, it set the tone and expectations for the night to follow.
"You," she snapped her fingers at one of the nearby geishas, "fetch me something better. The good stuff, you hear? He's paying." Her tone could only be described as impolite when compared against the refinement that shrouded this place as though the layered smoke of an opium den. There was a commandeering quality to her voice that was hard to miss. This was clearly a woman that was used to barking out orders, and even more used to them being immediately carried out.
It was then that she finally fixed those fearsome eyes of hers upon the male who tried very hard not to flinch. Takuya lowered his gaze respectfully, attempting his utmost to erase the consternation from his visage. To his credit, he had yet to interject. She was most certainly not who he was expecting, but he wouldn't have gotten to where he was today if he wasn't an excellent judge of people. Whoever she was, she was important, that much was obvious.
"You must be…" Xiaotian drummed her nails upon the table, staring at him until he offered a response. "Takuya, Nakagawa Takuya, Your…Ladyship," He allowed his voice to trail, silently bidding the foreigner to continue. "Ah, right, Taku, such a funny name." It was a small miracle that he managed to keep a straight face at that. But before he could even have a chance to lose his patience, she reached a hand beneath her outer robe and unfastened a small statuette from her belt, setting it down on the table with a clink.
Takuya tensed and stared, swallowing.
"Yes yes, it's very shiny, I know," the foreigner continued matter-of-factly, leaning forward to drop an elbow onto the table and propping her jaw up with her hand. "You know what this means, so you know, talk. That's why we are here, no?"
Only she wouldn't give him a chance to actually say much of anything. As soon as he opened his mouth to no doubt spew something suitably ornate and conciliatory, she cut him off. "Hold that thought." That arrogant gaze swept the entire room, scrutinizing everything and lingering on nothing in particular. Other than Saia-omi, of course. Xiaotian's lips curled. Rare as it was to see a yokai so blatant about her yokai-ness, this particular one was very shiny. And very pretty. Xiaotian liked both pretty and shiny things. She grinned wide enough that her cheeks dimpled and cute little canines peeked out, just a tad sharp but well within human dimensions.
"I traveled far and long to come all the way here," she sighed dramatically, her words aimed at Takuya but her eyes remained fixed on the pretty & shiny. "Surely Shiyako-chō has something worthy to offer me for making such a long trek? I would hate for you to return empty-handed because the entertainment is sub-par."
Smirk, and scene.
"Yes yes, it's very shiny, I know," the foreigner continued matter-of-factly, leaning forward to drop an elbow onto the table and propping her jaw up with her hand. "You know what this means, so you know, talk. That's why we are here, no?"
Only she wouldn't give him a chance to actually say much of anything. As soon as he opened his mouth to no doubt spew something suitably ornate and conciliatory, she cut him off. "Hold that thought." That arrogant gaze swept the entire room, scrutinizing everything and lingering on nothing in particular. Other than Saia-omi, of course. Xiaotian's lips curled. Rare as it was to see a yokai so blatant about her yokai-ness, this particular one was very shiny. And very pretty. Xiaotian liked both pretty and shiny things. She grinned wide enough that her cheeks dimpled and cute little canines peeked out, just a tad sharp but well within human dimensions.
"I traveled far and long to come all the way here," she sighed dramatically, her words aimed at Takuya but her eyes remained fixed on the pretty & shiny. "Surely Shiyako-chō has something worthy to offer me for making such a long trek? I would hate for you to return empty-handed because the entertainment is sub-par."
Smirk, and scene.
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