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Enchantress In The Board Room
At the request of @Portius
The Board was recently asked about including foreign shrines in the city and I was trying to get my due diligence on. Drocilla does not half-do anything, so Hallifax was subjected to some extremely dramatic weather during the audience. As an aside, this brings the counter of 'Elixir-Drinking Elders who have rubbed Zitto's face' up to 2 and consequently Hallifax has seen a dramatic increase in funding for its 'Soulless Essence Hygiene Department'
An intoxicating scent wafts upon the wind, wrapping about you like a shawl that conjures the image of crystal spires wreathed in indigo fog in your mind.
You have emoted: Zitto blinks suspiciously, peering at his surroundings.
You have emoted: Zitto speculatively sniffs the air, his expression still guarded.
-Radio silence for a bit. I fail to put the clue together at this point and enter the Catacombs-
A breeze finds its way into the catacombs, whipping about you and disturbing your clothing, now more insistent. The exotic fragrance clings to your body as it passes, spectral fingers brushing against the back of your neck.
-Realize that something is up, hoof it the Fulcruxes-
(Clan 1 - AH): Ushaara (from the Realm of the Architect) says, "Fluffy white clouds race across the firmament pulled by an increasingly feral breeze, its wheezing reminiscent of a keening lament."
The liquid in front of you bubbles and pops enticingly but within the pool is a reflection of a glass-topped table and sophisticated chairs, rather than the antechamber beyond.
-Oh, hey, that's the Board Room! More Running-
The shrill cry of a predatory bird breaks through the moan of the cold wind, a stark black shape visible against the tormented sky.
With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.
You say, "I hope I have not kept You waiting too long."
A velvety indigo fog roils through the thunder-lit crystal wards of Hallifax. The fog carries a soft, intoxicating scent that promises dark triumphs and pleasures alike as a presence manifests somewhere within the city.
The ground convulses as a mound of rich, liquid gold rises high. The scent of musk wafts upon the air while the liquid recedes to reveal the immaculate form of Drocilla, the Enchantress.
She is a radiant immortal and is breathtaking to behold, radiating a painfully sublime and gentle beauty that inexplicably drains the vibrancy and colour from all else in the room. Shimmering with an eerie effulgence, Her almond-shaped eyes are a cruel, sharp lavender; sculpted with grey and violent shadows, they draw the onlooker with their mystical allure. Her tawny skin is creamy and flawless - the visage of utter beauty, elegance and perfection - and Her high cheekbones are touched by the gentle shade of a rose. The glossy scarlet red of Her lips stands out against these soft hues with a generous fullness that makes them deliriously tempting. Every subtle movement of Her perfectly poised figure exudes a raw confidence that dominates Her surroundings, Her superlatively shaped jawline held with regal posture. Intoxicating and addictive, an entrancing scent drifts in Her wake like a cloak of perfumed silk. She is wearing an august gown of liquid, pale gold ribbons, a pair of knuckle rings, each bearing a dangerous talon that extends past Her fingertips, a wide velvet choker embroidered with fanciful nightingales and a silk-swathed pouch of moribund gold embroidered with tainted pearls.
Her silken hair, a hundred shades of burnished gold, is pinned like a crown of molten gold atop a visage of utter perfection. The thick, detailed braids wrap about the head with nary a disobedient wisp in a polished updo that wreathes Her face in a smouldering halo.
Casting a cold wandering gaze over the boardroom, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Somewhat, I hear that is to be expected here."
Almost apologetically, you say, "Ah, we do try not to keep respectable and esteemed individuals as Yourself waiting, Lady Drocilla."
Her hair a shimmering golden halo, Drocilla turns Her lavender eyes to you at last, enigmatic effulgent motes swirling within.
His eye scanning the room cautiously before focusing on You, you say, "Though, perhaps with a bit of warning, we might have prepared a warmer reception. Tea, perhaps, some light cakes. Some greeting appropriate to Your Glory."
In a darkly seductive voice, head tilting much like that of a predator, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "There will be time perhaps."
A wicked smile curving Her ruby lips as She adds, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Next time."
You say, "I do strive ever to be an excellent host, especially to guests as beautiful and well regarded as you, Lady Drocilla."
Drocilla watches you for a moment longer, cruel eyes travelling over your form with a raise of golden eyebrows. "You are not what I expected, Chairman," She croons, "But you are certainly as well-mannered as befits your station".
You tell Davos Pavok, "I believe we are addressing a board matter. The Directors and Ministers will be updated, presuming I survive to report the matter."
Davos tells you, "Of course, Chairman."
With a rustle of taffeta upon silk, Drocilla turns to the south to gaze out of the archway overlooking the city.
Without turning around, Her voice a lilting melody, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "You sought to speak, Chairman, speak."
You say, "I do hope the view suits you. But might I ask, are You here to indulge my inquiries?"
Curtly, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "I am never anywhere to indulge a mortal, Chairman. Speak."
You say, "Your own Nightgale, Miss Tremula, has come to us. We are most pleased to count her a citizen of the Beacon..."
Bruised clouds blot out all sunlight, leaving the crystal street bathed in the illumination of lightening that blossoms across the stormy firmament frequently.
Drocilla offers no reply, Her back turned to you and fixed in perfect stillness.
You say, "She remains most devoted to You, for understandable reasons. She has asked permission to raise a shrine in honor to You."
With an almost indifferent shrug, you say, "It is the right of any citizen to petition the Board, but I am sure You can understand why such a matter might be a difficult subject for us."
A scrape of metal against metal accompanies Drocilla's languid movements of fingers of both hands as steel talons rub against each other.
You say, "For reasons of security and courtesy to our own Pantheon, it is a concession the Board is unlikely to grant, but I would not have performed my duty if I did not speak with You first, if I neglected to collect all of the facts."
Her voice quiet and composed, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "It is a foolish request that My sweet Tremula makes, you should not grant it."
His posture relaxing considerably, you say, "I shall instruct the Board as to Your opinion. I am certain they will feel comforted knowing that declining would not be seen as an insult to Your Person."
A bolt of lightening splits the sky in two above the Executive Boardroom, illuminating the room in an eerie light and wreathing Drocilla's form in a hazy outline of power.
You say, "None-the-less, I would also be remiss if I did not commend Miss n'Lochli's dedication to You. She has been pleased to speak with the citizens regarding Your noble and admirable nature. I believe You have found an admirer in our own Lord Portius Windwhisper as a result of her advocacy."
Drocilla pauses right in front of you, a hint of a smile in Her
mysterious eyes as the scent of musk and spices almost overpowers you in
such a close presence.
Her sultry voice just a breath away, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Dear Chairman, My Evanescent are always loyal and go above and beyond."
Drocilla turns now and slowly strides towards you, golden gown trailing against the crystal.
You have emoted: Zitto teeters momentarily, suddenly exhaling sharply as he seems to steel himself. His expression is one of captivation, but his eyes remain alert and almost fearful
Drocilla reaches out and traces a line upon your pale cheek with a steel-taloned fingertip. "Much as I desire for her what she dreams of," She murmurs closeby, "I could not have My dear Isune having a fit, think of how many feathers She'd lose in Her restrained, confused fury."
You have emoted: Zitto politely hides a smile behind one hand but fails to conceal the mirth in his eyes.
You say, "You are the very soul of grace and consideration, Lady Drocilla."
Drocilla offers a ruby smile, the tips of Her lips curving mischievously. "And I do hope My sweet Isune will, one day, be as cordial with Me again as you are, Chairman," She adds as Her talon draws down upon the cheek but does not draw blood.
Withdrawing a step backwards, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "You are ever polite, Chairman. Polite words hide blades in Hallifax, do they not? Sharp and unyielding blades of law."
A dark and seductive voice murmurs in your ear enticingly as Drocilla dissipates into a velvety indigo mist, leaving in Her wake a sense of unrestrained longing.
The storm calms suddenly and shafts of moonlight pierce onto the streets while the clouds dissipate and flourish in pristine wisps once more.
Shuddering for a moment in the empty chamber, you say, "Thank You for Your time, Lady Drocilla. It has been a singular moment, and I am indebted to You for the sake of Your consideration."
The Board was recently asked about including foreign shrines in the city and I was trying to get my due diligence on. Drocilla does not half-do anything, so Hallifax was subjected to some extremely dramatic weather during the audience. As an aside, this brings the counter of 'Elixir-Drinking Elders who have rubbed Zitto's face' up to 2 and consequently Hallifax has seen a dramatic increase in funding for its 'Soulless Essence Hygiene Department'
An intoxicating scent wafts upon the wind, wrapping about you like a shawl that conjures the image of crystal spires wreathed in indigo fog in your mind.
You have emoted: Zitto blinks suspiciously, peering at his surroundings.
You have emoted: Zitto speculatively sniffs the air, his expression still guarded.
-Radio silence for a bit. I fail to put the clue together at this point and enter the Catacombs-
A breeze finds its way into the catacombs, whipping about you and disturbing your clothing, now more insistent. The exotic fragrance clings to your body as it passes, spectral fingers brushing against the back of your neck.
-Realize that something is up, hoof it the Fulcruxes-
(Clan 1 - AH): Ushaara (from the Realm of the Architect) says, "Fluffy white clouds race across the firmament pulled by an increasingly feral breeze, its wheezing reminiscent of a keening lament."
The liquid in front of you bubbles and pops enticingly but within the pool is a reflection of a glass-topped table and sophisticated chairs, rather than the antechamber beyond.
-Oh, hey, that's the Board Room! More Running-
The shrill cry of a predatory bird breaks through the moan of the cold wind, a stark black shape visible against the tormented sky.
With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.
You say, "I hope I have not kept You waiting too long."
A velvety indigo fog roils through the thunder-lit crystal wards of Hallifax. The fog carries a soft, intoxicating scent that promises dark triumphs and pleasures alike as a presence manifests somewhere within the city.
The ground convulses as a mound of rich, liquid gold rises high. The scent of musk wafts upon the air while the liquid recedes to reveal the immaculate form of Drocilla, the Enchantress.
She is a radiant immortal and is breathtaking to behold, radiating a painfully sublime and gentle beauty that inexplicably drains the vibrancy and colour from all else in the room. Shimmering with an eerie effulgence, Her almond-shaped eyes are a cruel, sharp lavender; sculpted with grey and violent shadows, they draw the onlooker with their mystical allure. Her tawny skin is creamy and flawless - the visage of utter beauty, elegance and perfection - and Her high cheekbones are touched by the gentle shade of a rose. The glossy scarlet red of Her lips stands out against these soft hues with a generous fullness that makes them deliriously tempting. Every subtle movement of Her perfectly poised figure exudes a raw confidence that dominates Her surroundings, Her superlatively shaped jawline held with regal posture. Intoxicating and addictive, an entrancing scent drifts in Her wake like a cloak of perfumed silk. She is wearing an august gown of liquid, pale gold ribbons, a pair of knuckle rings, each bearing a dangerous talon that extends past Her fingertips, a wide velvet choker embroidered with fanciful nightingales and a silk-swathed pouch of moribund gold embroidered with tainted pearls.
Her silken hair, a hundred shades of burnished gold, is pinned like a crown of molten gold atop a visage of utter perfection. The thick, detailed braids wrap about the head with nary a disobedient wisp in a polished updo that wreathes Her face in a smouldering halo.
Casting a cold wandering gaze over the boardroom, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Somewhat, I hear that is to be expected here."
Almost apologetically, you say, "Ah, we do try not to keep respectable and esteemed individuals as Yourself waiting, Lady Drocilla."
Her hair a shimmering golden halo, Drocilla turns Her lavender eyes to you at last, enigmatic effulgent motes swirling within.
His eye scanning the room cautiously before focusing on You, you say, "Though, perhaps with a bit of warning, we might have prepared a warmer reception. Tea, perhaps, some light cakes. Some greeting appropriate to Your Glory."
In a darkly seductive voice, head tilting much like that of a predator, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "There will be time perhaps."
A wicked smile curving Her ruby lips as She adds, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Next time."
You say, "I do strive ever to be an excellent host, especially to guests as beautiful and well regarded as you, Lady Drocilla."
Drocilla watches you for a moment longer, cruel eyes travelling over your form with a raise of golden eyebrows. "You are not what I expected, Chairman," She croons, "But you are certainly as well-mannered as befits your station".
You tell Davos Pavok, "I believe we are addressing a board matter. The Directors and Ministers will be updated, presuming I survive to report the matter."
Davos tells you, "Of course, Chairman."
With a rustle of taffeta upon silk, Drocilla turns to the south to gaze out of the archway overlooking the city.
Without turning around, Her voice a lilting melody, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "You sought to speak, Chairman, speak."
You say, "I do hope the view suits you. But might I ask, are You here to indulge my inquiries?"
Curtly, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "I am never anywhere to indulge a mortal, Chairman. Speak."
You say, "Your own Nightgale, Miss Tremula, has come to us. We are most pleased to count her a citizen of the Beacon..."
Bruised clouds blot out all sunlight, leaving the crystal street bathed in the illumination of lightening that blossoms across the stormy firmament frequently.
Drocilla offers no reply, Her back turned to you and fixed in perfect stillness.
You say, "She remains most devoted to You, for understandable reasons. She has asked permission to raise a shrine in honor to You."
With an almost indifferent shrug, you say, "It is the right of any citizen to petition the Board, but I am sure You can understand why such a matter might be a difficult subject for us."
A scrape of metal against metal accompanies Drocilla's languid movements of fingers of both hands as steel talons rub against each other.
You say, "For reasons of security and courtesy to our own Pantheon, it is a concession the Board is unlikely to grant, but I would not have performed my duty if I did not speak with You first, if I neglected to collect all of the facts."
Her voice quiet and composed, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "It is a foolish request that My sweet Tremula makes, you should not grant it."
His posture relaxing considerably, you say, "I shall instruct the Board as to Your opinion. I am certain they will feel comforted knowing that declining would not be seen as an insult to Your Person."
A bolt of lightening splits the sky in two above the Executive Boardroom, illuminating the room in an eerie light and wreathing Drocilla's form in a hazy outline of power.
You say, "None-the-less, I would also be remiss if I did not commend Miss n'Lochli's dedication to You. She has been pleased to speak with the citizens regarding Your noble and admirable nature. I believe You have found an admirer in our own Lord Portius Windwhisper as a result of her advocacy."
Drocilla pauses right in front of you, a hint of a smile in Her
mysterious eyes as the scent of musk and spices almost overpowers you in
such a close presence.
Her sultry voice just a breath away, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Dear Chairman, My Evanescent are always loyal and go above and beyond."
Drocilla turns now and slowly strides towards you, golden gown trailing against the crystal.
You have emoted: Zitto teeters momentarily, suddenly exhaling sharply as he seems to steel himself. His expression is one of captivation, but his eyes remain alert and almost fearful
Drocilla reaches out and traces a line upon your pale cheek with a steel-taloned fingertip. "Much as I desire for her what she dreams of," She murmurs closeby, "I could not have My dear Isune having a fit, think of how many feathers She'd lose in Her restrained, confused fury."
You have emoted: Zitto politely hides a smile behind one hand but fails to conceal the mirth in his eyes.
You say, "You are the very soul of grace and consideration, Lady Drocilla."
Drocilla offers a ruby smile, the tips of Her lips curving mischievously. "And I do hope My sweet Isune will, one day, be as cordial with Me again as you are, Chairman," She adds as Her talon draws down upon the cheek but does not draw blood.
Withdrawing a step backwards, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "You are ever polite, Chairman. Polite words hide blades in Hallifax, do they not? Sharp and unyielding blades of law."
A dark and seductive voice murmurs in your ear enticingly as Drocilla dissipates into a velvety indigo mist, leaving in Her wake a sense of unrestrained longing.
The storm calms suddenly and shafts of moonlight pierce onto the streets while the clouds dissipate and flourish in pristine wisps once more.
Shuddering for a moment in the empty chamber, you say, "Thank You for Your time, Lady Drocilla. It has been a singular moment, and I am indebted to You for the sake of Your consideration."
7
(c) Iron Realms Entertainment 2012.
Comments
(also there's a subforum for this, just in case you didn't know. Love, the obsessive-compulsive organizer)
Edit: IT TELEPORTED.
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."
I feel like Hallifax has more non-Hallifaxian divines in the city recently than Hallifaxian ones!
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."