𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙨 & 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 | [𝔓𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫 + ֆɦǟʍǟռ]

[Pretty.Poison]

 

[ShamanWithAShotgun]

A screech of duct tape ripped into the night. He didn’t have long. Didn’t want to hang around. It was somewhere in the ballpark of 3am, on turf he wasn’t welcome in. The poster sagged, heavy in his trembling hands. Muffling his face as he reached his arms out, pasting the material to the side of the Theatre. Ripping tape. Flattening it out. Wiping away the creases and leaving it worse. “...With a Poster that size, you could use another pair of hands.” A voice said from behind… He froze. Clenched. A voice he knew. Too well. And definitely not the one he wanted to hear now… “Is Ares exaggerating his manpower or something? Would explain the mass recruitment drive, only…You don’t have my permission to prop that ugly shit on my wall now, do you?” The man growled, stepping forward. Expensive shoes on concrete. Deliberate and slow. “...Dionysus…I…I tried to tell him that, but you know…You know what he’s like.” “I do. But do you know what I’m like, Hermes? I don’t think you do. Not while you’re sullying this beautiful building, with your bullshit propaganda.” “I’m just-” “Just the messenger. Got it. Now…You’re going to be my messenger. With me, you don’t act the role. You become it. Understand?” A single hand wrapped its fingers around the back of Hermes’ neck. Tightening. The leather of his sleazy jacket whining with strain. “I-It doesn’t work that way…” Hermes blubbered. Dionysus stepped to his side. Piercing blue eyes gazed up at the image. He took his time, studying the gaudy artwork. The ‘Edgelord aesthetic’ as he called it. In bold text, ‘PREPARE FOR WAR’. He was feeling prepared… “A style like this requires…more. More color…” Hermes finally turned to face him, shivering. Dionysus…A towering shadow under the streetlight, was glaring down on the delivery boy. From Dionysus’ eyes flared a golden glow, humming with power. Rage. Hermes felt them reaching in. Seizing him. The mad god cleared his throat… “I mean, there’s plenty of black. What it needs is a little more…” Grinning, his finger shot out between them with a brilliant idea… Just as quickly, the smile dropped. “Red.” Hermes felt Dionysus’ fingers leave the scruff of his jacket, only to wrench his hair. Yanked back by the neck, a single breath huffed from his attacker…Then the wall rushed forward… —------- It was ‘the ache behind his god-damned eyes’ that he hated the most about his hangover. It felt deep this time. Maybe it was actually the back of his head, he thought. Maybe the whole thing. Severe enough that he wasn’t in the mood for reading. The newspaper that’d been rudely thrust into his lap would only strain his eyes further. Brother Bacchus read it for him, paying no heed to the actors rehearsing onstage. “Ahem…Gruesome ritualistic murder outside The Acropolis…A pair of human feet found were found arranged beneath a Redmarch poster. Suspect is believed to have forced the unidentified victim's head into the wall before amputating the victim's feet from the ankle down…” Bacchus lobbed the rolled paper down the seating alley. “Y’know for someone trying to keep out of fights, you’re a little too good at starting them... Don’t you think?” “I don’t think about it, no. Now shut the fuck up and stop interrupting my actors.” “Dio…” “There’s a time. There’s a place. This? Not it.” “Fine…You play with your dollies while I sort the mess out, then. Our venues are gonna’ need to beef up security now.” “Are you telling me they’re not already?” “Not all of ‘em, no. We’ve a few Cabaret clubs that aren’t up to snuff, but I’d start with this one. Rakes in a pretty penny...” He pointed to the map on his phone, bringing up the info and shining it in his face. Dio squinted briefly, then swung his head away frowning. “I’ll see to it tomorrow.” “In the afternoon?” Bacchus raised his bushy brows. “Does it fucking matter when? Tomorrow.” “Will you wake up tomorrow?” “Yeah, I just won’t sleep.” “...Whatever then.” The Theatre seat flung back in its place with a thud, and before Dionysus could glance aside, Brother Bacchus was gone. ‘Boring. Shit.’ he thought. ‘Truly boring ssshit…’ Pondering as he observed his actors, he cheered himself up with the thought of seeing what girls they had in. Dionysus didn’t visit his other businesses all that much, and couldn’t even remember this joint. Unless he’d gotten blackout drunk on his visits, he could’ve sworn he’d never been there. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

Beep… Beep… Beep Dark, thick lashes fluttered against pale cheeks as the sound of machines and people talking hurriedly around her pulled her consciousness from the dark, soundless abyss she had been trapped in for… Wait, how long had it been? Where was she? Who was she? Her eyes snapped open as panic began to rise in her chest, the mechanical beeps coming faster as her heart pounded in her chest. The warm, round face of an older woman leaned over hers, gentle hands brushed hair from her face as she made soothing sounds to try and calm her, “Shhh, it's okay, honey… we got you, you're okay…” The tone of her voice was reassuring, but everything about this felt… wrong. She didn't belong here. She wasn't sure where she belonged, but it wasn't here. Her eyes scanned the room, falling a white board where it seemed the nurses had been recording notes for the next shift. At the top of the board the name Hayden was written. “Wh… who… who is Hayden?” Her throat was so incredibly dry that the words came out as a raspy whisper. “You, we thought… Is that not your name, sweetheart? It's what it sounded like you were saying when the paramedics brought you in. We haven't been able to find any records, and no one has come in for you. If you tell me your name I can change it, maybe find your people…” Her brows furrowed as she repeated the name in her head. It seemed vaguely familiar, but it wasn't quite right. Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and she just shook her head, “I… I don't… know. I don't know who I am.” A largish figure in a dark suit stood out front of a nondescript door at the end of an alleyway. While it was clear he was in the right place, it would be noticeable that there was no signage that said as much. While Thomas didn't even recall buying the club it would seem that the employees knew him on sight, "Good evening, Sir,” was the most the hulkish man would say before opening the door for him. Inside was a small, but elegantly appointed lobby area, a remarkably tall man with a brutish build stood between the desk and yet another set of doors, these with intricate filigree style carvings inlaid with something that almost glowed depending on the angle at which you looked at it. Behind the desk was a beautiful young woman, with skin the color of cafe au lait, that looked as if she could have just stepped off a runway in Paris. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, which in combination with the dress and heels made her look like some sort of executive dominatrix, but the smile she offered him as he approached somehow softened the look. One glance at him and the smile went from polite to absolutely dazzling "Right this way Mr. Asteri." She stepped out from behind the desk, and around the hulking figure of the guard, gesturing for Thomas to follow her just before pushing through the doors and into the club proper. With hips swaying in a mesmerizing fashion, the young woman led him into the center of the club. A rather extensive heavy wooden bar took up a large portion of the space. The back shelves not only housed many of the world's finest liquors but was also home to a wine collection that would make a true oenophile weep with envy, and a humidor stocked with only the most sought after cigars...a true testament to the level of luxury the club was known for...by those who knew. The space around the bar was filled with intimate seating arrangements where members could gather to mingle or conduct business. There were already some notable faces scattered around, some with beautiful, scantily clad women on their knees. More of these women passed by moving around with trays of drinks, food, cigars, and other more scandalous party favors. To the left it was easy to see that there was an area for billiard and casino tables, some of which were in use. His escort, though, would steer him to the right. There was another smaller bar, but still impressive in its own right that fed this smaller lounge area. Seating arrangements varied; on either side of the bar and along the far right wall were semi-private booths, while tables capable of seating either two or four people were situated on gradually descending risers. Every seat in the house was positioned to face a main stage which was flanked by smaller stages to either side. This seemed to be where the majority of the clientele in attendance had gathered, nearly every seat had been filled. Center stage, right up front was a single table left open, a reserved sign warning people away. It was to this table that he was shown. "A server will be here in just a moment to get your drink order, Enjoy your evening, Mr. Asteri." As she stepped away, hips swinging, a bubbly little blonde with a curled bob, dressed in a corset, ruffle panties and stockings all but bounced up to his table. "Good evening, Mr. Asteri, we are so delighted you have joined us this evening. I'm Lola, and I will be your designated attendant for tonight. Whatever you want or need, all you have to do is ask and I will make it happen...within reason of course." She flashed him an impish grin, and gave him a wink, giggling a bit as she did. "How about we start you off with a drink?" Lola would wait for his request before skipping away, almost literally, to retrieve his drink. Even after she returned she never strayed very far, and it seemed as though he was the only patron she was serving. At any time if he asked for anything more she was on it; drink refills, cigar, anything in her power to get for him, she would. It wasn't too long before the lights in the room turned down. More patrons from other areas of the club had ventured over, literally standing room only. A hush fell over the crowd as the curtains slowly opened. The stage itself was bathed in haunting purple lights that did little to penetrate the darkness. In the center was a lone figure seated on a chair, it was too dark to make out any details other than the figure was female, and what most would consider petite. The music sort of… crept in, setting an almost eerie, but somehow still sensual tone. “You'll be seeing me in your dreams, but I'll be there when your reality drowns…” The voice was almost as haunting as the scene, but in a way that drew people in like moths to a flame. If there was any magic afoot he couldn't detect it, which would make it highly unlikely, yet everyone around him seemed enthralled by the figure on then stage.​

 

[ShamanWithAShotgun]

He nodded his regard to the doorman. A good first impression, and under ordinary circumstances he’d be enough on his own. Bacchus suggested an additional doorman, but two guys flanking the entrance wouldn’t be so welcoming for patrons…It might make any unwelcome visitors think twice, but Thomas wasn’t keen on the idea. Another hulk inside. Good stuff. The place already seemed secure, so whatever Bacchus had been smoking must’ve been pretty good. Other than a little extra security under the desk, he thought it overzealous to turn the entrance into a border crossing. Inside was pleasing to the eye too. The air was charged. Thick with anticipation. Yesterday he couldn’t be bothered, but the intended effect of his own establishment was working its charm. Dionysus - No. “Tommy” today - was a sucker for it. More so for the lovely Lady greeting him. “Please, call me Tommy.” He extended his hand, taking her own with a slight bow of his head. Topping off with a friendly smile, he added: “Tommy without the gun.” And so, the gates to the underworld opened. Step right this way… The mood was lively, just the way he liked it. Soaking up the unfurling desires leaking into the atmosphere, Tommy reeled it in. He couldn’t wait to reach that bar. He’d already decided. He was setting up camp for the night there. There was no tomorrow, not yet. His favorite two words combined were ‘fuck it’, and he’d long since said them. This was gonna’ be fun…No. Wild. But first, he was gonna’ take a seat and feast his eyes. Along with everything else, especially his liver. “Now, I apologize in advance for this. I want three house wines, and three house whiskeys. The bottles, not glasses. And if you could keep me topped up, that’d be lovely. I might not be able to see where I’m going later.” He smirked, a glint of colored light in his eye. There was a certain giddiness that seemed to overtake him here. The moment came. His favorite…The lights that dimmed. The settling of the atmosphere and the buzz in the air that rises…It was his essence. His usual domain, where his power was at its height. His favor could bring things out of performers they’d never dreamed they could do...If they opened themselves to him. If they let go and allowed him to fill the void. To unleash their raw, unfettered power before their audience. He chose those he favored. Those he wanted the world to see…The All to see… At least, once upon a time… Placing a cigar between his lips was the final test. It rested there a moment before he heard the match strike. Fire was cupped between the hands of a server. A warm glow. The embers ignited, and he puffed the silken smoke to cloud over his table. Slowly…The spotlight faded in, poised between stage curtains…Ready to reveal something. Something once thought lost. And it would change everything... ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

“You may be the owner, Mr. Asteri, but you are not my boss…” His charming hostess purred at him, “As long as I’m on the clock… you’re Mr. Asteri.” She did give him a playful wink before escorting him to the table that had been reserved for him for the evening. Lola, the bubbly little blonde server, was similarly playful adding to the personalized service. Once the surprise, in regards to his order, had passed she had merely giggled and nodded while offering the use of a wheelbarrow to help him home… or the use of one of the upstairs rooms. The latter had been murmured with a sly wink before she’d toddled off to fetch his bottles. That all had been prior to the start of the show, and while Lola lingered close by even her focus seemed trained on the stage. She turned to face the crowd, the lights illuminating a bit more of her features though most were still lost to the shadows. “There's a bright side to every wrong thing if you're looking at me through the right eyes. Darkness in my name. Don't you wanna come and play on the cool side? Don't be so shy…” Her crooning was done in more of a singsong manner than outright singing, and she gave a little roll of her silhouetted shoulders as she continued in the same rhythmic tone. “There's a pleasure in hiding from the sun. No, I was never one for pretty weather. I'd rather be a creep, baby follow me into the water. I'll take you to the darker…” The tempo of the music picked up, as did the lights and with it she stood from the chair. With the lighting it was easier to make out the details of the petite siren, her slim frame wrapped in a short silk robe. The tops of her thigh highs, and the straps of her garters easily seen, as she strutted making a small loop around the chair. “This could be perfection, or venom dripping in your mouth. Singing like a siren… Love me while your wrists are bound…” She gave the sash, cinched tightly around her small waist, a tug letting the robe fall open to reveal the black, lace nighty beneath it. “You've been seeing me in your dreams, but I'll be there when your reality drowns…” she repeated the haunting line from the beginning of the performance, only this time the expression on her face could be seen… It was dreamlike, bordering on orgasmic. “You can pretend that when you hear my voice, darling, it's your choice not to fall in… But it's all an act, cause I know exactly what you're wanting. You know it's what I'm wanting.” She ran her hands over the thin, delicate fabric of the negligee, tracing the curves of her body as she shimmied and swayed, the mix of desire and dangerous intent resonating in her voice, “Boy, I know what you desire… Oh, you're such a bad, bad liar…” Her body rocked to the beat as the pace of the music picked up again, the chorus repeating. She turned her back to the crowd as she dropped one thin strap over her shoulder, and then the other. Casting a backwards glance to the audience, she gave them a playful wink and let the top of the chemise slip down, holding it against her chest before turning back to face the room, a devilish grin on her full lips, “...I'll be there when your reality drowns…” She dropped the robe as she walked seductively along the stage, her hips swaying, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she drug the silk scrap along behind her, her voice sultry and melodic. She slipped behind the curtain, only her feet were visible as she did what appeared to be a small shimmy, and then the black lace could be seen forming a puddle around her feet, “Boy, I know what you desire. Oh, you're such a bad, bad liar.” Stepping back out from behind the velvet drapes, she was adorned in crystals and ropes of pearls that did little to hide the veritable playground that was her body. “I want you and I just can't take it, so listen to me when I say it,” she cooed as she shimmied and strutted around the stage, swishing and swaying her hips to the beat of the music. “This could be perfection, or venom dripping in your mouth. Singing like a siren. Love me while your wrists are bound.” Her hands moved along the length of her shapely legs as she ran her tongue over crimson stained lips. “You've been seeing me in your dreams, but I'll be there when your reality drowns,” she called out in that same sultry tone as her hips rocked hypnotically. She ran her fingers lightly along her frame as she swayed and rolled her body, “I'll be there when your reality drowns…” she serenaded her entranced audience one last time, dropping back into the chair, as the music drew to an end and the lights began to fade. The heavy velvet drapes slid closed, and the curtains of one of the smaller stages opened up revealing a flamboyantly dressed, dark skinned man. One wouldn't describe him as handsome, though he was very attractive, but he would more accurately be called pretty. His ensemble looked rather similar to something you'd imagine a ringmaster would wear, but bolder, brighter, and much more colorful. "Welcome Gents and Dolls, welcome one and all, to the one and the only SpellBound Lounge" he called out, his voice carrying without need of a microphone, a sign that he had been professionally trained in the art of stagecraft. "Another round of applause for the lovely, luscious and talented Hayden Willows. She's a hard act for anyone to follow, but you know we always bring the goods, so hold onto your seats it's gonna be one helluva show!" Charm practically oozed from the man's pores, his energy infectious, and the gathered crowd was eating out of the palm of his hand. At the very end he gestured back towards the mainstage, the curtain opening once more as the music came back to life. A group of scantily clad young women took to dancing suggestively in perfect unison with one another to a raucous cry of approval from the audience.​

 

[ShamanWithAShotgun]

Pale light overlapped the darkness shrouding her eyes, but the ivory frame of her face was striking. Thomas had imagined they’d bring their best out first. He shouldn’t have been surprised, yet he was. Something gnawed at him. If his memory was like an ocean, he felt something dislodge from the depths. It was rising to the surface, and it surged through the waters with such gravity, the entire ocean surged with it. It was the moment before realization. Dumbstruck. Time ceased. The room around them faded. Only two people existed here… Through the black pools shading her eyes, Thomas felt her gaze reach out to meet his own. There was no thought. Just Purity. Tremors of disturbance beneath…But purity. The words molded the air. Altered it. Toyed with it. She had presence. She had command of her stage, and the very fabric of reality being projected from it belonged to her. Thomas felt himself sinking while he was rising… The voice had a ring. A familiar ring, that called out to him in ways it never had before. His desire swelling upon the realization…that she didn’t belong to him. A temptation clawed still, that it could be the other way around. He already belonged to her. Probably the same thought every boner in that building had… “I’ll take you to the darker…” She said stepping into the light. His memory finally met him. Time halted here. ‘Wait…’ “You’ve been seeing me in your Dreams…” ‘It can’t be…She died, didn’t she?’ “But I’ll be there, when your reality drowns…” Something was different, yet somehow she was the same. It had always been so, and the cycle was beginning again. Only this time, it was his own underworld she emerged from. The idea sprang out and seized his mind… ‘Hades is dead…I’m not.’ Somehow, Thomas still felt a pang of caution. He’d felt this pull before, but knew it was a bad idea. Yet as the seasons change, perhaps his own had come? He wouldn’t want it to leave… The 4th wall circled her, yet he felt it reach beyond itself to touch him. His thoughts were answered through her lips in perfect timing. She passed through his own walls like a ghost…The pokerface he’d been wearing in his apprehension was all for naught, and discarded too quickly when he knew it was so. Reminding himself constantly…Hades is dead. Ash broke from his cigar and stained his pants on the inner thigh, a white cloud smothered there. The statue of Dionysus didn’t flinch, gaze fixed upon his desire. A maddening tease infiltrated him…The ache exquisite. Then, as quickly as it came…It was over. The room returned. The trance released him from its indomitable grip, yet its absence was overwhelming. His glimpse into another world, snatched from him. Staring out blank over the stage as the performance continued, Thomas looked pale. He gingerly raised his hand, a hesitant gesture to get front of house’s attention. How could he even put it? ‘Congratulations, your boss is a creep. Who was the lovely Lady?’ A question he already had the answer to, but it was what he asked. At least, before asking for arrangements to be made... To the one who will always return. To the one who will always leave. Walk upon my stage, for this time upon it is yours. Show us your light. Show us your Shadow. Dance ‘tween them and see What shapes you make there in the eye.​ ​