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</div><br/><br/>A few notes before we begin:<br/><br/>1. The group's current triggers include: nonconsent/sexual predation (considered distinct from consensual noncon roleplays, which are currently still on the table unless anyone objects), scat, urine, and vomit. Do not include these topics/themes in your writing for any reason, no exceptions. Doing so will result in one warning, followed by me very neatly writing your character out of the story entirely. Please be courteous and keep in mind the safety and comfort of your fellow writers. If at any point another theme or topic needs to be added to our triggers list, please don't hesitate to let me know. I will never disclose who asked for which triggers to be listed. If you are considering writing something on the edgier side and you're not sure whether or not it will go over well, feel free to ask.<br/><br/>2. There is no strict turn-order. Because of the size of our cast, I would simply ask that after you have written a response, please wait until at least two other people have also responded before writing again. There may be occasional exceptions to this policy, of course (for example, two characters having an emotional or intimate exchange). This is less of a hard and fast rule and more something to keep in mind as a matter of good manners.<br/><br/>3. We all have lives outside of BD, and that means that one of us may occasionally need to step away for a time. If you need to take a break, or even if you're simply not interested in the story anymore, let me know and I can write in a reason for your character to be gone temporarily or permanently. No judgment, of course, we just want to be able to keep things going with minimal disruptions to the story as a whole.<br/><br/>With that said, thank you all so much for being a part of this project. The Orchid as a concept has been close to my heart as an independent writer for some time, but I haven't been able to bring it to being on my own, so I'm looking forward to seeing what you all will bring to this beautiful setting. I hope you surprise me! Have fun and be kind to one another, and if you have ideas, questions, concerns, or pressing needs, I am always available for a chat. So, without further delay, welcome to The Orchid!<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr"/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/garden-jpg.102809/" title="garden.jpg">
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</div><br/><br/><br/>The Orchid’s doors opened after sundown, when the lamps were lit one by one along the cobbled streets of the entertainment district, their light casting strange yellow shapes through the evening fog. But before the house’s wide purple double doors were opened to guests, preparations had to be made. Outside, the day was drawing to a close for ordinary folks. Black automobiles coughed and rumbled their way homeward. Cafes closed their shutters. Children were called inside from play. The godly gathered at their little tables across town, far from the district's sinful bustle. But here, the day was only beginning. Soon, The Orchid would come alive with lamplight and music, and guests would arrive to partake in pleasure of every kind, offered to them by creatures whose capabilities far surpassed those of humans in the industry.<br/>Remiel, the house’s resident incubus, was the first of the entertainers to stir from his room on the third floor. The third floor was devoted almost entirely to the entertainers’ private rooms, spaces they could decorate as they pleased. Each door had on it some sign or symbol, an indication of who lived within. Remiel’s room was done almost entirely in black and dark greys, an environment well suited to the illusions he spun from light and shadow. Thick carpets and cushions littered the floor, and in the center of the room was a low wooden table with a glossy black stain, on which rested a dark stoneware tea set, an elaborate silver hookah, and a clay dish for burning cones of incense. Beyond this dark haven, Remiel’s door was indicated by a single expressive eye. The ornament was made of pewter, and hung on the door from a small hook. Ordinarily, Remiel did not stir until full dark. Sunlight didn’t hurt him like it did some other creatures, but he did find it unpleasant and jarring. However, today it was his turn to light the parlor fire and wake the housekeeper, a task not taken lightly by any of the Orchid’s residents. So he stood in front of his full length mirror - a lean muscled, long legged incubus with deep red skin and two short but powerful horns, and dressed hastily. He threw on a kimono and tied back his hair in a loose knot behind his head. He could dress properly later, when he felt more awake. Barefoot, he made his way quietly through the house. As he passed through the second floor, which contained the library, as well as two larger rooms used for group entertainment, he could hear the Master of the House moving about behind the closed door of his office.<br/>Downstairs, the house was cold. A bitter late autumn rain fell outside in a halfhearted grey drizzle, giving everything a quality of chilled slowness. Last night’s wine glasses gleamed in their racks, drying for tonight’s guests. It was in the parlor that Remiel found the housekeeper Euphemia, affectionately called “Effie” by nearly everyone. With the parlor fire not yet lit, she was frozen in pale grey stone, and to anyone who did not know her, she would have appeared to be a statue of a young lady with flowing hair tucked neatly back from a sweet face and downturned eyes, standing at the window looking out toward the street. The only indication that she was not, in fact, a part of the parlor decoration was the fact that she held a polishing cloth in one delicately rendered stone hand, still poised as if to clean the window pane before her.<br/>Remiel knelt in front of the hearth with the tinderbox and some strips of old newsprint, and with a quick snap of his fingers he produced enough of a spark to get things going. Soon enough, a warm fire crackled happily in its brick confines. Across the room, at the window, Effie slowly woke. The rigid lines of her figure softened from stone to supple, living flesh, though she remained the pale white-grey color of granite, and shimmered slightly in the firelight. She stretched slender arms, then carefully straightened her white pinafore. Her dark grey eyes fell on Remiel kneeling at the hearth and she smiled.<br/>“Good evening, Master Remiel,” she said with a brief curtsy. “Thank you so much for waking me.”<br/>Remiel yawned as he stood and waved a dismissive hand in response to her gratitude. “Don’t mention it, Effie. Though you really should stop falling asleep in random places when the fire goes out. Somebody might come along and hang their coat on you.”<br/>“You’re quite right, sir.” Her polite smile turned fond as she passed him, making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put the water on for tea.”<br/>Remiel retreated upstairs again to make himself more thoroughly presentable for the night ahead of him. Moments later, the sound of the tea kettle’s shrill whistle traveled through the house, a gentle notice to its residents that another evening had begun.