D
Draeven
Guest
Original poster
Fairies... whether they are benevolent or wicked, they are universal. Often, most agree that the fae embody the beauty and grace of nature, as well as its raw power and cruelty. The Fair Folk have a dynamic, unpredictable past, and even after human civilization turned towards smoothing away the wrinkles in myth and science, faeries still managed to survive in more ways than the average human could possibly imagine. Some of them drew back into the wilderness even further, erasing themselves from perceivable reality. Some integrated themselves into human culture, and let their power fade to a dull, throbbing memory.
And some... well...
Some started making liquor.
Chicago, 1923.
The glistening veneer of water over the roads made them shine oddly in the light, reflecting and refracting flickering street lamps and the bright, red-tinted bulbs above shop signs. The Lady's heels tapped sharply on the pavement, her black satin dress mirroring the night sky above, as she ducked into a side street and down a convoluted, visceral alleyway.
She paused, passing a well-dressed, imposing man with a glassy, dead gaze; he was leaning against a wall, by a dimmed doorway, staring into nothing. The sound of an enthusiastic piano and the buzzing lull of voices escaped through a crack in the peeling wall, and in the light of it the man's skin looked strangely virescent and sickly.
"Is this the Green Fairy Club?" she asked quietly, searching his listless, cadaverous eyes for any form of recognition.
He made a muffled hissing sound, but offered no other response. It was only after a small, bony pixie slipped out of his collar, scrabbling over his shoulder with sharp, dessicated claws, that she knew she had reached her destination. She pressed a gloved hand to the door, the satin matching her dress, and then slipped into the smoky, dimly lit room. A whorl of vapor curled out behind her, shaping itself momentarily into wispy faces grinning in the gloom.
She was met in the velvet-lined hallway by a satyr in a suit, and a man made out of dead leaves. In the height of Prohibition, the Green Fairy Club had a lot more than alcohol to hide.
=> https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/the-green-fairy-club.93787/
And some... well...
Some started making liquor.
Chicago, 1923.
The glistening veneer of water over the roads made them shine oddly in the light, reflecting and refracting flickering street lamps and the bright, red-tinted bulbs above shop signs. The Lady's heels tapped sharply on the pavement, her black satin dress mirroring the night sky above, as she ducked into a side street and down a convoluted, visceral alleyway.
She paused, passing a well-dressed, imposing man with a glassy, dead gaze; he was leaning against a wall, by a dimmed doorway, staring into nothing. The sound of an enthusiastic piano and the buzzing lull of voices escaped through a crack in the peeling wall, and in the light of it the man's skin looked strangely virescent and sickly.
"Is this the Green Fairy Club?" she asked quietly, searching his listless, cadaverous eyes for any form of recognition.
He made a muffled hissing sound, but offered no other response. It was only after a small, bony pixie slipped out of his collar, scrabbling over his shoulder with sharp, dessicated claws, that she knew she had reached her destination. She pressed a gloved hand to the door, the satin matching her dress, and then slipped into the smoky, dimly lit room. A whorl of vapor curled out behind her, shaping itself momentarily into wispy faces grinning in the gloom.
She was met in the velvet-lined hallway by a satyr in a suit, and a man made out of dead leaves. In the height of Prohibition, the Green Fairy Club had a lot more than alcohol to hide.
=> https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/the-green-fairy-club.93787/