Lankin
- Masterful Virgin -
Posts: 49
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Post by Lankin on Dec 23, 2007 7:55:02 GMT -5
The brougham pulled up outside the Opera and the coachman, still nervous, hopped down from his seat and anxiously opened the door.
"We're here, sir," he said his eyes lowered.
One of the two passengers, a tall lean man with exquisite features and eyes colder than the surface of the moon, raised his head from his companion's and smiled charmingly at the coachman.
"And punctually too," said Lankin, "you shall have a considerable tip for your services."
"None required sir," said the coachman, and in the privacy of his own thoughts he added Just get the hell out of my life forever, that will be gratuity enough.
Lankin stepped out of the coach and donned his hat, picked up his silver topped cane.
"Get the hell out of your life?" he whispered to the coachman, "Why certainly. Now take my companion back to her lodgings and quickly, or you will also get the hell out of your life." He leaned in closer. "Go."
The coachman did not even pause to ogle the largely naked young woman in the rear of the coach. He went.
Lankin turned and surveyed the rather workmanlike exterior of the Opera House.
"It is like a damned railway station," he muttered, "but stories congregate here. So many stories to feast upon."
With the smile of a thousand long winters, Lankin the disgraced assassin to the Faerie Queen's court strolled happily into the Paris Opera. At last.
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Post by Satan on Dec 24, 2007 9:29:08 GMT -5
*Satan watched the man enter with a wary eye. Queen Mab often spoke of her court, and this looked like one of them. But something about him seemed more like, well, one of her own court.*
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Lankin
- Masterful Virgin -
Posts: 49
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Post by Lankin on Dec 24, 2007 9:38:05 GMT -5
The foyer, Lankin noted, was ridiculously opulent, a stark contrast to the rather drab civic exterior. How very typical of the mortals, sharing only their dullest faces with the outside world and keeping the splendour (what little they had) for their secret inner selves.
How unlike the fae.
He smiled and nodded politely at the patrons as he entered, touching the silver pommel of his cane to the brim of his hat as he looked around for suitable diversions.
Someone was watching him. His instincts did not allow him to miss that tiny thrill of foreknowledge.
Someone... no, something powerful and dangerous.
Lankin licked his lips gratefully. Such a generous world. He looked around in the hope of discerning more.
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Post by Satan on Dec 24, 2007 9:41:34 GMT -5
*Satan was never evident as such. To those who did not know her, she appeared to be merely a beautiful woman with a British accent. But the fae were more observant than most humans.
No longer hiding, she leaned casually against the stair bannister, her face cool and unreadable.*
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Lankin
- Masterful Virgin -
Posts: 49
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Post by Lankin on Dec 24, 2007 9:45:51 GMT -5
*There*
Lankin strolled toward the woman that had, until a moment ago, escaped his notice (and so few things did...)
"Lankin, Madame," he gave a little bow, very formal, "at your service. Forgive my forwardness but I am new here and unfamiliar with the etiquette of this place."
He raised his eyes and met hers, reaching outward with his senses in the hope of discovering something of the nature of this beauty.
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Post by Satan on Dec 24, 2007 9:49:45 GMT -5
"Nice to meet you."
*She did not offer her own name.*
"Were you looking for someone...or something?"
*With teeth like those, 'someone' was more likely*
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Lankin
- Masterful Virgin -
Posts: 49
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Post by Lankin on Dec 24, 2007 9:52:42 GMT -5
"Diversion, Madame," he volunteered, "I am but recently arrived and do not know where it is... polite to begin."
On an inspiration, his next few words were in Medieval Latin.
"To risk the displeasure of a sovereign in her realm is foolhardy, though I will seek my own distractions with your permission."
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Post by Satan on Dec 24, 2007 11:11:02 GMT -5
"You need no allowance from me."
*She smiled*
"And politeness is hardly a consideration in Paris."
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Lankin
- Masterful Virgin -
Posts: 49
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Post by Lankin on Dec 24, 2007 13:41:06 GMT -5
Lankin bowed.
"Old habits, at least for my kind, die hard," he said quietly, "in fact without our habits of manner and appearance, what are the Fae but wisps of malevolent vapour?"
He rose and looked around.
"Still, with leave asked for and not withheld I count this place an open one, and I will roam here."
He breathed in deeply, a connoisseur of humanity.
"So many stories centred on this place, so much phanwankery mythology. Perfect."
He nodded his thanks and strolled away further into the Opera. Perhaps there would be a performance... of some sort.
He grinned like a hawk descending upon a lamb.
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