Patreon Raffle for With her permission, I was granted to write something brief to set the scene.
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Here the two stood, some feet yond' of the misleading wooden doors which; from the outside looked to guide those
into a shanty abode, instead opened up to a dimly lit palace. Whether Scotland Yard knew of the establishment is unclear,
but, even if they had their efforts would be for naught-- for this palace was guarded by an array of wealthy benefactors.
To call this place a palace is comical in its own right. Rather, the palace had no king or queen... the knights at the front
merrily oriental bouncers to keep watch so not to disturb those who dwelled within. The court of this palace? Admirers of
opium and other drugs, much as they may deny.
And so here they stood, a lady dressed fit for an opera house and her chaperone, a man who seemed all too wise of this
place and its occupants.
"Right this way, my lady" whispered one of the scantily clad women of the establishment. Onward the two trekked through
the narrow maze of hookahs cluttered by an assortment of men and women, many whom-- much to the maidens bewilderment,
she had seen herself in many places of high esteem. Admittedly she held much trepidation to the thought of coming here,
this place of ill-repute. Unfortunately, they hadn't much a choice given the circumstance of their case. If it was one person
who knew shady business men in town and where to find them, it was he; Anton Shostakovich, the name just as elaborate
and embellished as he who wielded it. As luck would have it her chaperone was well and friendly with the man, so gaining
his audience was easy enough despite the unsavory location.
The scantily clad woman opened a door, moving apart the sheer fabric of drapes obscuring the man within. "Lord Anton,
you have a visitor..."
Without turning he lifted a hand, raising his index finger in protest. "I am aware. Pray, give me a moment." Without warning
the girl watched as the aloof aristocrat bent down along the wooden table, inhaling some sort of substance-- from what
she gathered, must have been his nose.
Her chaperone grimaced as if embarrassed of the scene before them. With a sigh he exclaimed "May I present my friend,
Lord Anton..."
"I-I am pleased to make your acquaintance..!" the girl squeaked, quickly curtsying out of habit. "To meet us on such
short notice, you are truly generous..."
The man lifted his head from the table, subtly adjusting his vest and hair. "I am sure. Since we are conducting business,
let us be forward. I will start. You must be wondering why you had to come all the way here to this ignored hideaway of mine..."
Lord Anton turned from his chair, his pale façade and silvery eyes glowing against the orange light of the dimly lit candles.
There was a beauty about him she could not deny; an unnatural beauty that both lured her and disturbed her.
Slowly he arose from his throne, walking towards her in a calculated movement before grabbing her hand; placing a kiss
against her gloved fingertips as he spoke thus, "I am prone, and must confess, I tire of the natural dreariness of noble life,
and at times- come to establishments like these to experiment with my moral compass. Never would I have expected to
run into such a innocent thing like you here. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
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FA STAFF, Why don't you improve how writing works for digital pieces uploaded here. It's a nightmare to orchestrate, thanks.
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 1649 x 1015px
This is a silly thing to notice, but I LOVE the way you have the shadow of the hair have an opening where his curl is. It's a minor detail I love!
It's so atmospheric, you almost don't even need the writing to have concocted an entire story in a moment's glance. Really excellent.
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