Teahouse. - Fiona's room.
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Saerrael on 17-02-2011, 02:51:43</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>17-02-2011, 02:51:43</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ee/Teahouseicon.png)</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>17-02-2011, 04:16:44</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1224.photobucket.com/albums/ee379/wistfulfaedream/FionaRoomStylesheet.png)</div><span style="font-family: Ravi;" class="bbc_font"><em>Tucked back in the grand manor that has become the Teahouse sits the room of one of the 'whores' of the House; a young woman known as Fiona. The door to this room is simple enough, like any other door in the House outside of ever so slight reliefs running up and down it of climbing flowers and knotwork; it is a small thing and one most people don't notice. The door swings open into a slight hallway, perhaps only four steps worth of space but it is enough to shield the bed from immediate view. The girl has in fact decorated that entrance with a canopy that hides the ceiling, long fluttering expanses of tulle, both white and other sheer pastel colors forming the sides of the 'hallway' rather then the walls themselves. Little crystals are sewn into the tulle to catch the light, sunlight or candlelight alike and make the little gems wink out at those who enter. The floors are a gleaming rich pale oak color, which is covered mostly in rug carpet that is a soft cream throughout the room, if ones feet are bare plush to the touch and with little gold knotwork borders on its edges. <br><br>Once past the 'hallway' the room opens up, bright and airy with a south facing wall that is made up mostly of large windows, one of them in fact a window seat nestled into a bay window. That is filled with cushions, cream and purple and gold and aquamarine alike, made of silks and velvets, the finest available. Each window is set with curtains should the occupant wish for it to be dimmer, first a paired set of sheer cream on each window, followed by a more opaque layer of rich violet silk. The walls of the room as done in soft buttery cream color, simple, and the furniture of the room is all made up of the same pale oak wood that makes up the floor, painted cream and&nbsp; accented with gold as well, delicate little touches of flowers and whimsy here and there. <br><br>The entrance to the room is to the right, meaning the bulk lays to the left, with the far wall the one taken up with windows. Moving forward into the room on the right wall is a white marble fireplace with two chairs and a lounge chaise along with a delicate low table placed before it. It is clearly meant for entertaining, teas and discussions. Small bookshelves flank the fireplace, full of books on philosophy, poetry and history.</em></span><div class="floatleft">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByXPyiNXbFM</div><span style="font-family: Ravi;" class="bbc_font"><em>To the direct left of the entrance is Fiona's 'study' area, a large desk with many little cubby holes for quills, inks and scrolls, a steak of waiting parchment set out. The drawers on this are all locked, keeping her own works safely hidden, though it is likely that her journal of thoughts is left out near an ink well, along with whatever books she has last consulted. Two more bookshelves, higher though, reaching nearly to the ceiling and stuffed full of every manner of books from novels to histories, flank this desk and before the desk is a comfortable chair, often left with a shawl draped over it. Both this 'study' and the 'sitting' area are spaced just perfectly from each other to make it feel spacious. <br><br>The far left side of the room is given over completely to 'bedroom', a elegant and romantic canopy bed done up in creams, gold and violets standing against the wall. A vanity also rests near by, done in the oak of the floor and with a white marble top, the surface taken up with neatly organized bottles, brushes and ribbons, along with other feminine things for her work. Above the vanity hangs a large mirror, with elegant scroll work winding around it. Two large white wardrobes stand side by side, one full of ready garments, shoes and the like, the other stocked well with her supplies to make more, her sewing tools and sketches of ideas, along with her more exotic outfits. Throughout the room there is a scattering of books left here and there, candles ready to be lit and fresh vases full of flowers.</em></span><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>19-07-2011, 01:27:08</strong>
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				(From (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=98329.msg4946424#msg4946424))<br><br><hr><br>He led the artist from his room, shutting the door behind them, then crossed the hall, continuing the conversation. "I'm not trying to pry, I was simply curious. It sounds rather splendid. Erotic art, how scandalous." He didn't sound shocked by the notion, but amused. In fact, he was grinning a little. "As for offering that... anonymity, I am grateful. For all that I work in a House of Pleasure, I do not embrace the idea of public ridicule. Here is the room, Sir," he murmured, opening the door and permitting the knight to enter first.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>19-07-2011, 19:49:54</strong>
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				"Curiosity is perfectly understandable and indeed welcomed, artists like to make people interested as a whole from what I've observed of my peers and myself." Nicholas noticed the grin on the other man's lips and wondered if it too was part of the act. For Atticus was acting at least a little, he knew that and he was trying not to let it get under his skin too badly. It reminded him far too much of his first mistake with brothels and their employees. <br><br>Thinking of all those years ago he half wanted to scoff at himself, trying to save a woman who didn't want to be saved, who was only using him to get money, not freedom. But then what category was this man of? Self serving, manipulative whores like Veronica or perhaps more like...no he couldn't think of <em>her</em>, not here. Not now. Instead he focused on the room, walking into it after Atticus had opened the door and taking in the very feminine decor. It must be the room of that redhead Atticus had spoken to, a pretty enough young woman who had seemed to sooth ruffled feathers rather well. <br><br>Still for all the female touches in the room the windows were large, taking up the whole southern wall and letting light flood into the cream and gold and violet room. It was beautiful; it made him curious as to what sort of woman could make so high a salary to afford all the little opulences that filled the room. But Atticus was the focus of the moment and he had only an hour with him. "This works." Nic said simply, moving toward one of the chairs, considering even as he shrugged off his satchel and withdrew his sketch book and pencils. <br><br>"For the start simply pick a place you feel the most comfortable and assume a natural position, neutral as you like."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>20-07-2011, 02:36:23</strong>
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				He followed the artist-knight into Fiona’s room, hesitating, hand on the door. He should shut it. This wasn’t his room. The client would want privacy. He should shut it. So shut it. Shut it. <em>Shut the door</em>. Please the client, please the Master. <span class="bbc_u">Shut</span>. <span class="bbc_u">The</span>. <span class="bbc_u">Door</span>.<br><br>The struggle started and ended in the time between one breath and another. He pushed the door closed behind them and did his best to ignore how suddenly he was trapped. He wasn’t, he knew, it was just a door, it wasn’t manacles, or – hah – belts tying him down. He’d been in a closed room with Master Ryan day one day and it hadn’t bothered him at all recently. He’d been in here with Fiona with the door shut. Just being in a closed room didn’t mean bad things happened. <br><br>He reached again for his cold place, knowing he’d not be able to move or breathe or obey if he didn’t stop this now. It took a few moments before his panic was smothered under the glacier of his mind. He had missed some of what the man had said – use his name, moron – missed what Sir Bereck had said, if he had said anything at all. If he had, it seemed to be of no consequence. Lucky.<br><br>The man settled in a chair, and gave his third order of the day. Sit down. That was easy enough. Natural and neutral? Trickier. He didn’t voice his assent, but walked from the door across the room and settled on the chaise where, a week before, he had shared with Fiona, the faint ghost of her lips on his making his tongue flick across his lower lip, hitting the stinging bite Master Ryan had given him, and he felt... better. The memories of their careful attentions were soothing. He relaxed back, and kicked his legs forwards, now half collapsed rather than the upright, ram-rod straight poise he had been trained in.<br><br>“Is silence necessary, or preferred? I have a habit of falling asleep when I sit still for any length of time.” He’d managed to work a wry, apologetic tone into his voice. While it was true, there was no danger of him falling asleep with Sir Bereck – any client – in the same room.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>20-07-2011, 07:25:26</strong>
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				And which, he wondered, of them were more unsettled over this? <br><br>He'd be hard put to answer that; ironic really, usually a whore and a client came together for pleasure. But then he wasn't a client, and Atticus wasn't a whore. He was relieved that the one he wanted alone time with very clearly was not a whore. That made things so much easier, Nicholas hoped. He watched quietly as Atticus moved over to the chaise, wondering if he had sat there before. The way he relaxed into it, and knew the spacial arrangements spoke to it. He must be friends with the redhead. Perhaps. <br><br>Slowly the artist' charcoal sketched over the paper, raw shapes making form, Atticus' striking features steadily coming out; his eyes half between the paper and the other man's face. The question earned a shrug of the shoulder. "Talking is fine, I'm not so demanding a man to define everything, besides it gives facial animation and will let me get a better feel for your lips. As odd as that sounds. But then I suppose you see a lot of oddities working here."<br><br>A pause there, something in his eyes that was darker, more brooding then he had allowed himself to be downstairs. "I am glad Master Valentine had you; someone strong to protect the others. Usually there's...no one, and its too late. It makes me hope tragedy is less likely to happen here." Ah fool, scars on the heart he didn't want to examine there, memories better left untouched. He cleared his throat, moving onto another sketch, his head tilted slightly to catch a new angle. <br><br>"This room seems very inviting."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>20-07-2011, 18:39:23</strong>
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				Atticus watched, curious despite himself, as charcoal moved over paper. He’d never seen an artist at work – aside from the reclusive Cam who didn’t seem to welcome the attention. Would he be allowed to see the sketches? Caught on paper... fool, it was not the reason either of them were here. <br><br>He could hardly keep the teasing, seductive words from his lips as the knight spoke of getting a better feel of his lips. The words pressed against his tongue,&nbsp; like honey and bile. But Sir Bereck had made it clear he didn’t want sultry. Did he want it willing at all?<br><br>He managed to hold himself relaxed, managed to keep the unwanted suggestions spilling out. The man spoke on after a hesitation, as if he too had been waiting for the lewd comment on Atticus’ tongue. His mood changed, sank, turned dark by... disappointment? Memory? Perhaps. His topic suggested it was so. It felt strange to be applauded. “I’m not so sure it is my presence rather than Master Ryan’s political influence that keeps the tragedies at bay. He is not a man to be crossed lightly. My role here is mostly throwing the drunkards out and insuring that debts owed the House are paid.” He had other duties, but it cost nothing to make the world seem less dire to the man. Especially when in reflection of the high echelon the Teahouse served.&nbsp; <br><br>Atticus let his single-eyed gaze move around the room and nodded slightly. “Fiona has a very warm and open soul,” he murmured in agreement. He didn’t add that it took someone very sheltered and naive to have such a willing exposure to strangers. “Somehow she can translate that into frills and furniture. Not a skill I have, as you probably noted.” His fingers toyed absently with the pommel of his sword, his attention on the window behind Nicholas. “It must be freeing to have a skill that allows your soul to speak.”&nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>20-07-2011, 21:16:50</strong>
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				Grey eyes set on Atticus, his sketching paused for the moment. "Perhaps it is both? There are some people, some men and even women who respond to nothing else other then brute force in this world. They see and feel no joy but what they can steal from others. And sadly this city is far too full of people who will sell others to that type, who have no issue with seeing a person's spirit break, their personality falter and their very lives perhaps snuffed out. Regardless....perhaps it is simply that you and Master Valentine make so good a team others pay heed." <br><br>The artist shook his head at himself then, dropping his gaze down to the sketches that filled the first page he had turned to now and he looked at them, wondering. Making him have only one eye and an eye patch would make him to notable if Atticus wanted to truly stay unnoticed. Yet he liked the character of it. Flipping to a new page he started to sketch again, eyes moving up and down, though now the full page was given over to a sketch of the lines of the bodyguard's body; that casual pose, his fingers upon his pommel, Nicholas' charcoal worked quickly to get his lines down, to convey the gesture he wanted before the man would shift out of it. <br><br>Fiona, so that was her name. <br><br>Finished with his next sketch, in which he had actually given Atticus two good eyes he paused again, thoughtful at the comment about translating ones soul into decor. His gaze moved around the room, and while there were personal touches there was also a sense of...staging, there was nothing someone could find offensive here outside of perhaps the femininity of the room, but then if someone engaged the red head that would be what they desired no? "I think your room says just as much about you as hers does about her, this room is...its hers but its also reflective, meant to make anyone feel at ease." He shrugged then, laughing a touch at himself. "At least that's my impression of it and Florence says I either am dead on about something or completely wrong. You know the young lady in question so you would be a better judge of that."<br><br>He glanced down at the charcoal drawing when the other man commented about his skill. "It is freeing, and yet...it can be terrifying. You see expression of souls in bedrooms, in the choices that one makes. Every line I make, each color I choose, it says something about me. Yes in the end its others that I draw, paint and put out there for others to see, or at least it is the visual of them, slightly altered to protect my muses; but it is my name, and my heart and soul that is bared. Each painting is a risk to take, I've seen artists destroyed by that, or destroy others because of it....." <br><br>"Sorry, probably nothing you wish to hear. You may choose another pose, for now simply adopt anything that feels comfortable with you; I'll give more direct posing requests as time goes on but I like the model to choose the first few."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>20-07-2011, 23:34:43</strong>
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				Atticus’ gaze turned sharp as Nicholas talked of the dark, cruel deeds that could happen to the vulnerable and desperate. He disliked hearing this privileged pervert act and speak like he knew how the lower classes worked, full of pity and hopelessness. No wonder he was the court heartbreaker, Society would adore his sympathetic sounds. <br><br>It rankled Atticus. “We do what we must,” he said, his tone clipped. To be aware of the issue and use it for his own betterment... <br><br>What was he expecting? The knight was a client. He’d never understand. <br><br>Then his attention turned to Fiona. The man seemed determined to aggravate, though this seemed unintentional. Atticus hadn’t realised the points Nicholas made, and it made him feel like he was distanced again, alone again. “... that’s most likely so. I admit I can’t read inanimate objects as someone of your learning.” It was a very small barb, but he couldn’t help it. It was difficult to keep his mood neutral, when the client – use his name – Sir Bereck&nbsp; tugged so at subjects so deeply imbedded in his chest. <br><br>“A curse as much as a blessing, then? It might be just for it to be so. Skill should hurt. Difficult to attain.” He thought of his long, punishing training in the mornings. Not many put that effort in, day in, day out. He still wasn’t as good as he could be. <br><br>He blinked at the man as he told him to take a new position, straightening and pushing one hand through his curling hair. A different pose? One he was comfortable with. When was he most comfortable? That was easy;&nbsp; in Master Ryan’s office, watching him work. He stood up, glancing at Nicholas to make sure it was all right, and leant his back against the wall, his left hand’s thumb hooked in his belt, his head hanging down just a little. “Is this all right?” <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>21-07-2011, 00:49:50</strong>
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				The guard didn't care for him; reading faces was something that Nicholas was good at out of necessity, every little change in how one's expression formed had a tale to tell, and it was in those subtle expressions that his art set him apart from several of his contemporaries. It rankled him that the other man would dislike him so; but then he had pulled him from the background and made him an object of interest, perhaps that was the reason. Regardless he sketched, charcoal moving; only ten minutes, perhaps fifteen of their hour together had passed but he could draw Atticus from memory now if need by. A live model was preferable but not if they were apparently going to be so disliking one another. The barb wasn't missed. <br><br>"I would think you have more learning then myself, at least in the important things in life." Came the knight's guarded reply, showing that the blow had not gotten under his skin overly much. Perhaps skill should hurt as Atticus said, it made more sense then the entitlement and grandeur so many sought. To express thing, to give them life one had to live life. And he could readily admit that his art had more depth in it since his time with Mariel, however far behind him that was now. <br><br>"Its perfect." He approved of the pose, it was a good one, and hopefully the last one he would need. His fingers flew over the page, charcoal and his wrist flexing and turning, capturing broad strokes. For several long moments he worked, a slight furrow in his brow, no words coming from him. If Atticus fell asleep then that would simply be worked around. He flipped to a new page and set about recreating his last drawing, the same pose, his attention to detail more full here before he finished and signed the bottom corner. He tugged the sheet of paper out of its binding and place it on the low table between the two of them.<br><br>"Be careful with that, the charcoal might smear but it should be fine if its framed or just placed between two blank pieces of paper. Take it as a thank you for the inconvenience I've caused. " He tucked away his charcoal and pencils, dusting his hands off on a chamoise little coated with a solution that pulled the charcoal off his skin. His sketchbook he flipped shut, reaching for his bag next. "If you would be so kind as to direct me to Adi's room I'll join Lady Florence and you may go back to your duties, you will be paid for the full hour as promised, I simply have no need for more, nor to further annoy someone."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>21-07-2011, 03:02:35</strong>
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				Atticus had expected more of a retaliation than the careful brush off Sir Bereck gave, not understanding why the man allowed him to talk back like that. It made him uneasy. Still, he didn’t nudge, and the moments of silence let him try to salvage his cold shelter.<br><br>Only to have it shatter utterly when the knight made it clear he was ending the hour early. “What,” Atticus choked, suddenly rigid. “You don’t...” He swallowed and shook his head. “Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” he said, a sick dread grasping his guts. Without another word, Atticus led the knight from Fiona’s room, a new, ugly weight pressing down on him.<br><br><hr><br>(To (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=98329.msg4955523#msg4955523))
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>21-07-2011, 04:38:05</strong>
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				From (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=98856.msg4955743#msg4955743)<br><br>She had taken the back stairs up to her room, not wanting to risk seeing a client, not wanting to deal with anyone. She couldn't remember a time when she felt the need to run and hide so deeply but when she finally slammed her door shut behind her, another uncommon thing, she locked it, something she never did unless a client was with her. <br><br>Only then did she let herself crumple to the floor and break down into the full sobs that had been welling in her since she fled the gazebo. Her eyes stung with her tears, but her body still ached, the heat still there. Her lower lip was swollen from Zara's vicious bite and she struggled for several moments to calm herself down from the edge of hysterics. It had just been too much, Zara trying to make her feel like nothing, the desire, the thoughts of William. <br><br>William. Just looking around the room she saw him everywhere. <br><br>Fi inhaled shakily, willing away her tears and got herself back to her feet again, smoothing her hair back, pressing her skirts down, trying to think of something to do to keep her busy that didn't involve her going back outside. She could read, yes, there was a new book of her favorite series of novels out that she hadn't had a chance to read yet. The redhead went to her bookcase and tugged out the brand new volume but she found her desire to read somewhat lacking. What Zara had said wasn't true, it wasn't. It couldn't be. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>undisclosedtoyou</strong> on <strong>30-08-2011, 05:15:52</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/1313727097122522234548558.png) (http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/E%20char%20pics/131372709712252974867050.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">Emma only had a brief amount of allotted time for her personal business, and she always made sure to make the most of it.&nbsp; She also never really spent said time doing anything that could be considered interesting, she tended to spend that time napping, or writing replies to letter's she received during the break.&nbsp; occasionally, she'd shop for personal things, like under clothes, or powdered toothpaste.&nbsp; All of which she could have bought when she ordered the usual House necessities, but sometimes, she preferred to do things herself, taking comfort in knowing that she wasn't idle, or wasteful of her precious free time.&nbsp; Today was no different, and she had found herself napping, and because of that, feeling much more refreshed, and up to her nightly duties. <br><br>Speaking of nightly duties, Emma glanced down at the pocket watch she kept tucked into an apron pocket, and than glanced up at one of the clocks situated around the house.&nbsp; She had the correct time, which meant that it was about time to gather the whores for their nightly line up.&nbsp; She clucked her tongue at herself, thinking back to earlier in the day, mentally reassuring herself that new linens had been put on all the beds.&nbsp; Her steps took her down a hall, and in front of a familiar door, and knocked the customary two times, waiting to be allowed entrance.&nbsp; She just needed to make sure Fiona was ready for the line up, and than she could check on the others, before going back to her other duties. </span></span></div><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><em>Tag:</em></strong> Fiona, played by Wistful Dream</span></span></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>30-08-2011, 06:55:43</strong>
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				It had appeared no one truly cared what she did with her time; Fiona had been left for the balance of the afternoon to herself and her reading. It hurt partly but then Adi had had his first client and likely had other things on his mind, she hoped it had gone well for him and that he was not hurting or anything like that. Atticus...he was always busy, why should she think he would notice anything odd with her while he was performing his house duties. Most probably thought she was simply busy with a client, or maybe even working on her mysterious writing projects; free time was precious here after all so often at the beck and call of patrons. For the first few hours she had been upset, resentful almost to the people she counted as near friends in this house. Were there such things as true friends in this world though?<br><br>Thinking of Lessard and the time he took to dance with her soothed her. Thinking of Atticus and his kiss, of the stolen moments of <em>"Give this to me...'</em> shook her out of her unusual melancholic thoughts. Why not indeed make the most of the time she had to herself now? And so she had, pulling out several books, unlocking her secret drawer that held her newest manuscript and spent the afternoon making notes and writing as well. Fifty pages flew by and when she sat back to flex her wrist she realized that the afternoon had well and truly passed. <br><br>Biting her lower lip she sanded her last page and then locked up her writing, reshelfed her books and went to the water basin she kept to wash her hands clean of inkstains. There was to be a line up tonight she knew, perhaps more then one, many clients came in the evening hours after all. The redhead glanced down at herself and shook her head, her gown showed that she had been sitting for several hours and it...reminded her of the garden and Zara. <br><br>She shivered at that and quickly undid her laces, the dress rustling down to pool around her feet. Fi gathered it into her hands and tucked into a hamper that was for laundering before throwing open her wardrobe of clothing; running her hands along the different gowns she found a smile touching her lips, one of pride. She made lovely things and she knew without false pride that she could very well leave the Teahouse as a costumer and seamstress and make good money. Not as good of money of course, and not in near as lovely surroundings. Humming softly to herself she shuffled through her creations before finally settling on one she had yet to wear of gold and cream. The gown (http://www.rossetticouture.com/baroque.html) was carefully constructed with a tight bodice that molded to her torso and cupped her breasts beautifully, the bodice made of a soft golden hued fabric with golden ribbons and pearls for the decoration. The sleeves were pure fancy, whimsical and stitched with fine gold threaded embroidery that had taken her the better part of a day to complete. Tulle the color of new cream made up the many many layers of skirts along with a slight touch of golden brocade fabric over it. Fiona smiled in satisfied pleasure once she had gotten into the gown.<br><br>The whore settled at her vanity, pinning her hair up with gold and pearl pins, teasing down a few strands to seem elegantly misplaced, still humming to herself and feeling relaxed in her preparations. Perhaps she would find a new client tonight, or perhaps one of her regulars would request her. It would be lovely to have a evening with the Lady Stanbury though her pretty song bird normally was very good about making appointments firmly a week ahead at most. She was musing over what jewelry to select when a knock fell on her door. Two knocks, sharp but not demanding. The housekeeper then, Emma. <br><br>Unfolding herself from her vanity she traversed the room and unlocked her door for the first time since she had fled into her room from the gardens and found herself indeed facing the blond housekeeper. Fiona smiled warmly, her blue green eyes friendly. "Hello Miss, am I behind in getting ready?" <br><br>Wanting to feel some like her normal self she opened the door fully and beckoned to the other woman "Will you help me choose what jewelry for tonight? I can't seem to settle on anything, I just need that and my slippers now."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>undisclosedtoyou</strong> on <strong>30-08-2011, 08:18:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/1313727097122522234548558.png) (http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/E%20char%20pics/131372709712252974867050.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size"></span></span></div>As Emma waited to be beckoned in, she smoothed the stray wrinkles from the skirt of her dress, and as an after thought, her pristine white apron, although that was unnecessary, as it was starched and ironed to perfection.&nbsp; Her finger stilled though, the moment she heard movement coming from the other side of the closed door.&nbsp; Straightening her back, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face, and curtsied as it was opened, waiting to be invited, before walking in.&nbsp; Fiona was not behind schedule, the glance she had taken of her pocket watch moments before had ensured that.&nbsp; But Emma proffered to move before it was needed, it helped greatly in making sure that things ran smoothly, and more importantly on time.&nbsp; In Fiona's case, she had a full twenty minutes before her presence was needed for the line up, twenty five if you counted the whole five minutes between the time she needed to be there, and the exact time the viewing was expected to occur.&nbsp; Of course, all of that was subject to other people being on time, and she really couldn't control the promptness of the client's, more the pity.<br><br>"Good evening Ma'am."&nbsp; Her curtsy, while being respectful, wasn't as deep as the other female servants would have given, it was a small luxury, what with being the housekeeper, and being of higher rank than the simple maids.&nbsp; <br><br>"You're perfectly on time, and have a full twenty minutes before you need to be downstairs."&nbsp; She had a small smile on her face, and moved knowingly towards the young ladies dressing area, and to where her jewelry was kept.&nbsp; She had gone through all the jewelry kept at the Teahouse, since she proffered to clean such valuable things herself, instead of having a regular upstairs maid do it.&nbsp; It wasn't because she didn't trust them, but it ensured that things went smoothly, if something did go wrong, there wouldn't be any wasted time spent in investigating those who worked underneath her.&nbsp; So she knew exactly what would compliment Miss Fiona in that pretty dress, and what wouldn't.<br><br>"I believe the golden hued pearl necklace and bracelet would compliment your dress beautifully Ma'am."&nbsp; Her fingers hovered over the pieces of jewelery, not touching them until permission to do so was given.&nbsp; Sure she could touch them when cleaning without permission, but in the presence of the miss, well it just wasn't done, unless given express permission to do so.<br><br>"As for heels, the pretty golden brocade ones with the tiny matching pearls sewn in, would do in a pinch."&nbsp; She could picture it in her head, and the image was stunning, almost enviously so.&nbsp; Turning away from the pretty things, she once again faced Miss. Fiona, and clasped her hands tranquilly in front of her body.&nbsp; She waited patiently for Miss Fiona to either ask her for help, or dismiss her, but she hoped that she'd be asked to stay and help.&nbsp; It would only take a few minutes, and to be able to touch such fine, pretty things, would be really fun for her.<br><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><em>Tag:</em></strong> Fiona, played by Wistful Dream</span></span></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>31-08-2011, 05:47:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/13147526698443955457050.png)</div><br>The fact that she was even a little early made her smile in return to Emma's expression and she closed the door behind the housekeeper completely at ease having the woman in her room. It was likely that the other woman had a better knowledge of her jewelry then she did; after all most of Fiona's attention was focused on her clothing and her creations. At the suggestions she nodded, smiling even as she moved to her wardrobe to start sorting through the different heeled slippers she had. The golden ones were easy enough to find and glancing from them to her skirt she realized they were a close enough match. <br><br>Fiona let out a soft laugh of delight and moved to her lounge chaise, gesturing with a hand that Emma could pick up the pieces that the housekeeper had mentioned. "You have such wonderful taste, truly. I should take you with me when I buy new fabric perhaps. Certainly you know jewelry better then I do." <br><br>Her feet firmly in her slippers she shook out her skirts and stood, twirling a little with her dancers grace to make sure she could balance right in them. "If you would be a dear and bring the jewelry you mentioned I'll be ready to do unless...do you think scent or simply stay with what the soft lavender and honeycomb soap and my natural scent? Ah..you must think me a ninny this evening to ask so many opinions but its nice to have something to distract ones thoughts at times." <br><br>Prettily her cheeks flushed with a light blush at her babbling but her eyes showed the same easy going charming young lady that so often soothed clients and adapted well to almost any patron's desires. She idly toyed with a loose lock of hair. "Do you know anything of who is expected this evening?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>undisclosedtoyou</strong> on <strong>01-09-2011, 02:31:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/1313727097122522234548558.png) (http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/E%20char%20pics/131372709712252974867050.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">Compliments made Emma uncomfortable.&nbsp; It wasn't that she didn't like nice things being said about her, but having a compliment that wasn't made about her work, had her slightly at a loss for words.&nbsp; It would be inappropriate for her to accept such a compliment, but it would be equally as inappropriate to dismiss it.&nbsp; Emma, unlike a lot of the younger maids, was considerably more aware of her station in life, and while it could be argued that whore's were below her, as thought by people like her mother and her mothers friends, she didn't think that way, and always thought of them as part of the 'upstairs', even if they worked for a living.&nbsp; So she took the compliment like she always did, when one was passed her way, and was slightly inappropriate for her rank in life.&nbsp; She lowered her head in a small curtsy, smiled, and humbly said in a clear and very straightforward manner.<br><br>"Thank you Ma'am."&nbsp; And she meant it, she was thankful for it, even if she couldn't exactly allow herself to have pride in it.&nbsp; "I don't know how useful I'd be to you Ma'am, I know what looks pretty, but I don't have much if any experience shopping for jewels, or luxurious fabrics, but if you should have need of me, than I would be more than happy to serve you."&nbsp; Of course, she'd need to shuffle her schedule around a bit, but if she were explicitly asked for, than she couldn't, in good faith, deny the request.<br><br>As she spoke, she quietly moved so she could fetch the requested jewels, and approached the young miss, making sure to set down the bracelet, before she could clasp the necklace around Miss Fiona's neck, herself.&nbsp; She smiled as she worked, enjoying such work, as it was so different from her daily tasks.&nbsp; She did contemplate the question posed to her seriously though, since she knew such things were in fact very important at the Teahouse.<br><br>"I don't think you a ninny at all Ma'am, but I do think the natural scent of your soap is enough for tonight.&nbsp; The night is a little warmer than usual, and so the scent will only intensify as your body heats up."&nbsp; There was a slight blush to her cheeks, but it wasn't a scandalized blush, but rather an acknowledgment of what kind of activities Miss Fiona would be expecting tonight.&nbsp; She made quick work clasping the fragile necklace together, and picked up the bracelet, so she could kneel down at the Miss' side, and get to work putting it on for her.&nbsp; Her eyes stayed locked on her fingers as she spoke.<br><br>"I cannot say what you should expect, although I have heard a few of the younger maids giggling together, which almost always heralds the arrival of attractive clients."&nbsp; Her answer was more superstitious, than factual, but she was a very superstitious person, and the giggling maids have never been wrong before.&nbsp; Her smile grew as her task was completed, and she stood back up, taking the proper few steps back, so she wasn't invading Miss Fiona's personal space too much.<br><br>"You look the very picture of loveliness, I'm sure you'll be called upon tonight."&nbsp; Of course she couldn't be 100% sure, but the clients would have to be blind to not be taken with such a beautiful countenance.<br><br></span></span></div><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><em>Tag:</em></strong> Fiona, played by Wistful Dream</span></span></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>01-09-2011, 04:25:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/13147526698443955457050.png)</div><br>Ah, she was chattering again too much and likely making the other woman uncomfortable with ideas of going shopping. It probably wasn't proper to invite a housekeeper into such plans but then what was the social standing here? Weren't they much the same, just in different jobs? She sighed inwardly, scolding herself for making things even in the slightest uncomfortable and wondered if perhaps Adi would be interested in shopping some. Perhaps. <br><br>Thankfully it was the evening now and that meant clients. Which meant she could not think of a thing other then pleasing whoever selected her. <br><br>Sometimes the life of a whore was beautifully simple. <br><br>Fiona held still with a smile as the necklace was clasped around her throat and then found herself thinking how pretty Emma was. It was a shame the other woman didn't dress up, with her bone structure she could be so striking with just a few touches. Still she kept her thoughts then to herself on that matter not wanting to make things uncomfortable. No firm news on who would be coming tonight made her sigh wistfully, longing for the time just a year ago when she had known firmly what her nights would contain, or rather who. William. For a moment she let herself think about her first lover, her first love, about his blue blue eyes and his thoughtfulness. <br><br>This room was a shrine to her, built by him in large part, earned by such a simple thing as loving him. Emma's words tugged her thoughts back though, and she found her eyes warming at the smile, at the words as a pretty pink flushed her cheeks and she got to her feet, twirling once with a bubbling laugh. "Ah well that's the hope isn't it? Thank you for your time Miss Emma, you are invaluable. I shan't detain you much longer I know there are others to gather I'll head downstairs." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Teahouse. - Fiona's room.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>undisclosedtoyou</strong> on <strong>01-09-2011, 04:51:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/Clip%20Art/1313727097122522234548558.png) (http://i1137.photobucket.com/albums/n520/undisclosed2you/E%20char%20pics/131372709712252974867050.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 9pt;" class="bbc_size">She spent a moment longer to admire the Miss' pretty figure, and than curtsied once more, this time recognizing the clear, yet polite dismissal, and headed out the door.&nbsp; Before she left completely, she turned half way in the door, sent the girl a bright smile, and perhaps a cheeky wink, before speaking in a low whisper.<br><br>"May your night hold nothing but pleasant encounters Ma'am."&nbsp; And with that, she turned, and bustled her way out, heading down the hall to to politely remind the others of the time.&nbsp; Her thoughts remained on the pretty Fiona for a bit longer than usual though, and there was a high color in her cheeks, thinking about the compliment that had been given her.&nbsp; She really shouldn't take too much pride in it, since she couldn't afford nice things on her salary, and she'd never actually prescribed to spending time wanting things she couldn't have.&nbsp; But still, the miss' nice words stayed with her, and made her evening a little brighter.<br><br></span></span></div><br><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><em>Tag:</em></strong> Fiona, played by Wistful Dream<br><strong><em>Going to</em></strong> Here (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=98330.msg5148871#msg5148871)</span></span></div>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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