(no subject)

[vojvode]

 [ After this. ]

He enters from the back door, and takes but a moment to survey the room.  It is not ideal, but that can be fixed.

An imperious gesture beckons a wait rat, and he mutters something to them.  The rat dashes off, gathering some of its comrades to help with clearing out one of the darker corners of the bar.  Filigreed brass lamps are hung and lit.  The banquet is draped with rugs and pillows. A hookah is placed in the center of the low table, right next to a huge chess set.

He removes his coat and rolls up his sleeves as he watches the preparations being made.  When they are finally to his satisfaction, he takes his place at the center of them.  One of the rats brings him a small table and a tray with several accoutrements.

Another quiet murmur of suggestion, and the rat nods.  A few minutes later, there is a tiny group of rat musicians sitting to one side, playing an oud and some strange stringed instruments, one on a tiny but strangely deep drum.  Their first strains make him smile, and nod.

He takes up the pipe while one of the rats lights the lamp.  In two puffs, he starts to feel his body relax.  He lays back into the cushions, his long legs stretched out on the table, one arm draped across the pillows.

Yes, this will do nicely. 

[Warnings for: Sexual innuendo, casual vampiric feeding, not so casual drug use, and general debauchery.  Also, pup is potentially violent, so please PM me if you intend to come at him with both barrels.  Many thanks to Fi for helping me research the opium smoking.]



[ETA: And we're in slowtime.  Thank you all!  Closed to new tags. ]

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"Good evening, Prince Dracula," says a polite and cultured voice with a Baltic accent in it's flawless English diction.

"That is not a sight I can claim to have ever seen. In fact, I only ever read about it one of my favourite publications."

If he looks up he will see Dr. Lecter, in a flawless suit and tie. The tie is pale, and is covered in a pattern of red paisleys and spiky red flowers.

[ostro_goth]

The bar will refuse patrons those intoxicating poisons that are illegal to them at the time and place they come from; so whatever it is the vampire is smoking, is not; hence, not Teja's concern.

His concern is somewhat different

"Greetings," he declares, standing tall and dark before the couch that the vampire is slouching on.

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche approaches, treating this situation with caution.

Quietly, he says, "Thank you for sending him back."

[lt_blade]

It's the smell coming from the corner that catches her attention. Having dressed in her olive drab fatigues after a workout session on a punching back, Sonya cautiously approaches where the smell's coming from. It reminded her of when she was was training and requesting to go on an drug trafficking bust-she didn't get accepted in (sadly), but the training stuck.

What catches her attention next is how the place is set up-like an opium den from the history books or something.

The feeling she gets from the man laying there leaves her wary. Opium could slow a man down, but something about him tells her to be cautious all the same. A gut feeling almost-and Sonya usually felt it better to trust in gut feelings.

[herr_bookman]

Autor wrinkles his nose against the fragrance of sweet, hot tar lingering in the bar. He'd caught a whiff of it from upstairs as he left the library, and decided that moving through the pungent cloud and out to the grounds as quickly as possible was the wisest choice.

[souffle_girlek]

... She has never seen something like that before - ingesting smoke, which can't be pleasant at all, but seems to have the effect of something like Happy.

Weird. Of course, she never really got into the mood drugs, so she doesn't quite understand any of it. Still, she's fascinated by it - you'd think all that smoke would make someone cough, it has to be irritating.

She doesn't have plans for disturbing him - after all, if it's like Happy, he'll be a chatterbox, and not the entertaining kind. But she does want a closer look at that smoking rig, she's never seen anything like it. So she oh-so-very-casually puts away her computer tablet and stands, taking a meandering course to the bar (because the excuse of getting more tea is always a good one).

[moonandstar]

Behind the cloud of smoke a set of red set of eyes glitters in the dark.

They close for a moment, as the elf behind them inhales. The smell is not exactly the same as that which hung over the stinking alleys of the Imperial City, and wafted from the open windows of the slums of Leyawiin and Bravil. But the spirit of Lorkhan is in it. There is no mistaking it.

The Dunmer leans forward in his chair, curious.

[the_cupbearer]

"It's been quite a while since I've seen anyone quite so comfortable like that," says Ganymede idly, hands clasped behind his waist as he takes in the difference of the vampire's corner.

"How did you get them to play you music?"

[margolotta]

She is a vampire, clearly. She seems harmless on the outside, dark hair and pink jumper with bats on, and a long skirt, like a slightly frumpy mortal.

But Vlad would have to be out of his mind with opium if he didn't notice that this woman is a powerful, old vampire, and every little thing about her is intensely deliberate, even the notes that seem jarring or silly.

"Good evening, my dear," she says, cheerfully. "Quite the spectacle of decadence you're presenting here."

One that she clearly finds as neatly stage-managed as her own appearance.