The Green Fairy Club

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Draeven, Jan 17, 2015.



  1. Wormwood.

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  2. Absinthe.

    0 vote(s)
  3. Eh.. Asphodel!

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  4. Titani- no, wait, Ober- ugh, screw it, lemme in.

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  1. [​IMG]
    Chicago, 1923.

    Down an alleyway off one of Chicago's main shopping streets stands a man with a dead gaze and a pixie hidden in his clothes. His only weapon is an iron poker, leaning against the crumbling wall beside him. Behind him is a curtain, moth bitten, a dark green velvet; and behind that is the oddest, most infamous Speakeasy in town.

    The lights are dimmed, releasing a dull, beetle-like green that shines off the varnished wood of tables, and reflects through the glassy wings of several patrons. Icy curls up over each of the ornate pillars, spreading out in fans of grasping, tender roots onto the ceiling, and stray fireflies or moths flit about the room ponderously. It's an odd amalgamation of two worlds, combining the raw, primal feel Dańann are accustomed to with the decadence and despotism of human wealth. Most ears here end in sharp points; most drinks are spiked with cream, and the music, though in the general style of Jazz, is played by fingers much too nimble and precise to be human.

    Vivienne, the club owner, presides over this regally; draped in a long dress made of what appears to be living birdwing butterflies, her hair wrapped up in an artfully messy auburn bun, she leaves the more menial tasks of collecting and fulfilling drink orders to her nephew, an overly enthusiastic satyr who, by contrast, doesn't appear to be wearing much at all.

    A Leanan sídhe is currently providing entertainment, standing on the low, varnished stage and singing an alluring, faintly carnal song with an amused glint in her dark eyes. A choker of glittering rubies surrounds her throat, glistening oddly in the green light. She is accompanied by a human pianist, presumably her lover, who plays with unnatural flair. His expression is taught, slightly sickly. He's shaking faintly, but his eyes are absolutely fixed on the singer, and his fingers are steady.

    Every so often, a patron exhales a breath of smoke, listlessly dangling one of the Club's own Green Fairy cigarettes from their fingers, and the vaporous nimbus takes the shape of a tiny, fluttering sprite, or a howling human face, or a Kelpie galloping over tables and fading to a wispy curl.

    The club had only just opened for the night, and yet there were quite a few patrons already occupying chairs and tables. Some were alluring, others repulsive; some combined both traits, delicate and bizarre, fascinating and terrifying. There was, as always, a faint tang in the air; a thick, seething tension. The tension of combining Seelie and Unseelie, of combining Faerie and human, the tension of opposites forced to cooperate and cohabitate. It hung low in the lamplight, like the cloying warmth before a storm, almost sexual in its irrepressible, obsessive presence.

    Watch your step, it said. Welcome to the club.

  2. "So I said to the guy 'that ain't your wife, that's a dog!' and he flat out loses it." She said, regaling a tale of how she got a man to kiss his own dog. She scanned the room once again, before getting up and standing beside the bar. She ordered a shot of their strongest, probably something like a milkshake knowing this faeries, and stood waiting for her drink.
  3. Whorls of mist curled around her ankles, dancing along with the sheer shroud that just barely covered her form. It billowed around her calves, lingering against her skin like the caress of a lover. Leading the eye to the curves of her waist, the long line of her neck- gracefully revealed by an intricate weave of braids pulled just to the side- and ultimately turning the thoughts of those who gazed upon her to wonder.

    Shrouded in mist and gold, the fae girl seemed to glow. A glow that caught in the gold disks of her eyes, and reflected back like two floating torches. A light only outdone by the lantern dangling precariously from the fingers of one hand- wrought in soft metals, and wood. No iron to be seen.

    Like a ghost, she lingered at the edges of vision. Never quite where expected, until she turned into the alley with the pixie and the man with the dead eyes. She leaned forwards, a single word that was merely breath, and without another glance, the girl disappeared into the moth eaten curtain, behind the crumbling wall.

    She'd only been here a few times before, but it was quickly becoming her favorite place to be seen. The smell of spice, magic, and cream in the air. The fae- both interesting and devious, grotesque and beautiful. Willow let her glamour drop, revealing the fact that her toes never quite touched the ground, revealing the source of her grace. To those who looked, she would appear solid. But at the edges of the eye, the only things that could be seen was the glowing light of her lantern.

    "Vivienne! How goes business? Anyone interesting drop by that I should introduce myself to?" She lifted one hand to catch the eye of the Satyr, whenever he was free, and turned to the owner of the club with a charming smile. She made a point of knowing the head of any establishment she walked into. It was only polite after all.
  4. Kip nodded at the Doppleganger's order, holding up a thumb to show he was about to make it -changelings sometimes kept human mannerisms like that, it was a source of eternal frustration to Vivienne, and then the satyr cip-clopped behind the bar with a spring in his furry step. He grabbed a green-tinged shot glass and filled most of it with a generous layer of thick, liquid cream, and then uncorked a bottle to fill the rest with a syrupy amber liquid, a concentration of nectar and honey. He handed the glass to one of the serving pixies, a small, bony creature that was all sharp limbs, overly long, and gauzy dragonfly wings. It buzzed away, dropping the glass on the varnished counter, and then scuttled back behind the bar.

    Meanwhile, Vivienne smiled beatifically at the sight of Willow, a ripple of deep, rich green seething through her dress as the hundreds of butterflies that clung to her shivered in unison. Some, gathered around the neck, fluttered back to land on her hair or gloves, revealing a lavish necklace of emeralds wrapped in coils of wrought copper. She breezed through the crowd quickly, momentarily abandoning a conversation with a hunchbacked kobold, who mumbled something vitriolic into his tankard of creamed beer.

    "Willow! How nice of you to join us. Business, as usual, goes wonderfully. We're thinking of starting a Burlesque act," she murmured to her fellow Seelie. She grinned slightly at the second question, a mutinous little cat-like smile, and shrugged lightly. "There's a person or two, indeed. Rumour has it that there's a particularly well-loved Courtesan in our midst, as well as an old lover of a certain Unseelie monarch... and, then, the usual suspects, I suppose."

    Kip notices Willow's wave and perks up noticeably, grinning and then waving back. He leans over the bar slightly, his bare back glistening oddly in the half-light. There are small bumps over the shoulder bones.

    "What's your poison?" he asks Willow with a wide smile, while Vivienne briefly exchanges smiles and compliments with a slightly eccentric nixie, sitting in the closest bar stool and dripping listlessly all over the floor.
  5. She looked down into her drink, lost in contemplation. She failed to notice the new person making an entrance. The distinct lack of any actual reason for her to order a drink was outweighed by the fact that she was probably on her way out anyways.
  6. Time has arrived, nightfall bestowed upon the Fountain. The water shimmering softly, the moons glow casting a soft light. Within minutes, a small, slim body arose from the water. Pink hair glistened, hazel eyes looking at the houses surrounding her small home. "Well well.." Her voice rang out as she stepped out from the small Fountain, her feet hitting the cold cement. She wore a small, soft green dress and no shoes as usual. People were out and about, not noticing where she just came from as she strode towards the club in need of some fun. Feet pattering against the floor, zoning out of all the other noises as she got closer and closer to the Club, a small smile forming onto her pink lips.

    Once reaching the Club, and telling the password, she was granted access to go inside. "Thank you, my dear." She smiled as she passed the Guard, reaching the inner place. Laughter, Music, and the smell of Bodies surrounded her. It was quite a lovely thing, making her shiver with excitement. Nyx walked over to the bar, sitting down on one of the stools. Her small, almost transparent wings fluttered slowly as she ordered a drink. One of her favorite songs played in the background, but of course she wasn't paying attention. Her gaze traveled around, looking for a distant friend; Locke, in fact. They hardly spoke, but she counted him as a friend. Xana's had friends, but most usually felt intimidated, no matter how her race was. Their dangerous abilities, to their looks of beauty. It was terrifying being alone, which was why she lived in the middle of town, she'd see the people passing by. People age, their emotions raw and apparent to the person they're showing it too. She loved watching time pass by, people die and leave. Her memory shows their own, always making her calm.

    The drink was handed to her, making her giggle and say 'Thank you' once again. She brought the cup up to her lips, taking a small sip as she began to watch people dance. Nyx didn't know most of the Fae, but she remembered their faces. Names lost within the dancing bodies, the drinks.

    No one looked her way as she watched passing people, making her feel more relaxed. Not that she was tense in the first place, but the attention caused her to get a little crazy. Sometimes that isn't good for the surrounding people, she would use her power to kill. It was terrifying for her race, they could easily loose their sense of mind. It was almost as if, being happy and kind all of the time; Which they weren't, but sometimes it was too much. But they couldn't handle it, and they needed to let themselves go. That was a good way to do it, no matter how many died, or got hurt.
    #6 Hermit, Jan 17, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Jan 17, 2015
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  7. "Poison? Oh nonsense, everything I drink at this bar should at least be described as nectar. Especially with such a fine hand mixing it." Willow threw in a cheeky wink- her usual teasing motion, when speaking to the changeling Kip. It was hard to get out of the habit of playing politics.

    "But I suppose if I had to pick.. perhaps the cherry liquor? Hmmm or perhaps the house specialty coffee..." She dithered for a moment, as a familiar face came over to take her order, "The coffee it is, with just a dollop, as usual."

    Willow perched herself on a stool by the bar, carefully caging her lantern atop of her crossed legs. "So we have the usual suspects, and what's this I hear about a courtesan? Oh, and I must say, the butterflies look wondrous this evening, the green sets off your hair so well!"
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  8. His hair fell like liquid gold to his shoulders, unbound by the ribbon to compliment the wild excitement in his deep green eyes. A simple garment of rich green silk and shimmering golden embroidery clothed his lithe frame, belted in black leather and onyx at the waist like a modern ornate tunic with a smooth golden buckle.

    The place was heavy with passion, he noticed, thick and oily and satisfying against the exposed skin of his arms. A deep rumble of amusement built somewhere in his chest in response to the warmth, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips.

    Locke breathed deeply, exhaling an alluring golden vapor of faux smoke and sweet spices that ignited an elaborately carved ebony pipe with a deep golden fire. He brought the pipe to his lips and puffed on the same faux smoke he'd exhaled not a moment earlier. It blended pleasantly with the mystical air of the club, a wondrously dizzying effect that left him and any who'd shared the air around him with a throbbing heart and an inexplicable desire. Locke shuttered and kicked back his wooden chair, then approached the bar with a roguish smile of pearly white teeth.

    "Hey, satyr," he said, leaning heavily on one of the bar stools. "Something heavy, if y'know what I mean."

    He pushed off the bar stool and his eyes drifted lazily over the two who shared company. His warm smile remained in place, but perhaps something much more sinister simmered beneath the surface of his more amiable self.
    #8 Dipper, Jan 17, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 17, 2015
  9. Kip nods to Willow with a wink, setting a small coffee pot over the gas stove top hidden away in a corner after filling the base with freshly ground coffee beans. He whistles to himself idly as Vivienne turns back to the wisp, smiling widely at the compliment. "Thank you! You're just as ravishing tonight, I must say. The only person I know who can make carrying a lantern everywhere so indisputably elegant. "

    She nods slightly towards a hunched, human-like shape of gnarled roots, sitting in the corner with an aureolous of excitable fireflies and tiny pixies. Ostentatious ram's horns curl from the forehead of this mastodont, and his pale face is bony and sharp, oddly reminiscent of a skull. Vivienne murmurs quietly to Willow, explaining herself. "Rumour has it he's high placed in the court of Oberon. A Kindly One of sorts. Hardly as ravishing and elegant as one of ours, but, well, they do politics like they do everything; ambiguous and in a state of d-" She was interrupted by a faintly amused expression on behalf of her nephew, who was handing over the cup of promised coffee, a dollop of cream in the center and the foam artfully swirled around it, and he had probably heard everything. He didn't seem particularly offended, though, turning to the next patron.

    Kip nods to Locke in response to his "Hey", and then ponders what to make him. He settles for using the remainder of the warmed milk for the coffee to make hot-chocolate spiked with Verveine liquor, and slides it over the counter with a faint grin. Verveine is a French alcohol with a liquorice-y, minty taste, combining with the scent of the

    "Nice pipe! Looking quite the dashing gentleman there," he says with a faintly amused grin. One of the bony serving pixies, with legs like twigs and tiny antlers on its head, buzzes audibly onto the counter and then leaps onto Kip's arm, scrambling up onto his shoulder. It tugs locks of his hair sharply as it murmurs into his ear, making him wince -pesky bastards, and then he reaches for a glass and a bottle of cream liquor. He remains in front of Locke, however, and near Willow and Vivienne, evidently intent on pursuing both conversations.
  10. Within earshot, all conversations could be heard, from the lady of Seelie, to the Bartender. Of course, Nyx didn't really listen to them, her attention mostly on the dance floor. It was calling, the base of the music pounding. Once finishing her drink, she jumped off the high stool and walked over to the dancing bodies. Come Little Children was playing, making everyone slow dance. Being the oddball, she began to jump around and wave her arms like a crazed person. This was what usually happened when there wasn't anyone asking her to dance, which was what usually happened. In the club, they didn't find her alluring or anything, which was quite the change for her but it was nice. The music soothed her as she danced widely, and finally the song changed to a more upbeat song. It didn't make her look like an idiot anymore, giggles escaping her mouth as she danced. Age didn't matter, she was a child at heart.

    "Whoooooo!" She screamed, the drink getting into her head. One drink and she was gone, rationality left.

    In minutes, someone decided to spill their drink onto her. Well, maybe it was an accident. But red flashed through, and all she could see was the girl who poured it. Hazel eyes turned into slits, not making a move. The other girl walked away, making Nyx roll her eyes. Knowing that nothing could be done, she walked back over to the bar. "Gosh.. What was that girls name again..." She muttered, rubbing the back of her head as she thought.
  11. She would upturn her glass, before placing it back down and glancing around once more. She probably looked very suspicious, any magical user could tell she was a familiar. A familiar away from its master wasn't exactly normal. Plus she acted like she was looking for someone, someone important. Either way, without finding who she was looking for she turned back to looking downwards at the countertop.
  12. He clicked his tongue in recognition of the satyr's compliment, his eyes lighting up when he wrapped his fingers around the enticing beverage. The pipe's golden fire went out as he set it down and raised the glass to his lips in its place. The liquid strange but pleasant on his tongue. "It knows what it's doing-- a beguiling little thing, isn't it?" he asked, the pad of his index finger stroking the rim of the glass in his hand as he set it down. Locke's gaze had softened somewhat, his eyes becoming glassy as he thought.

    The sudden scream, however, drew him out of his drifting and made his ears ache irritably. A xana, he noticed-- a pretty one, too. He swallowed and set the glass down. Despite the resistance he'd built up to sugary things over time, the effect was still very much present in Locke. Albeit, much less chaotic or sudden. His eyes focused lazily on the girl.

    "Havin' fun, were you?"
  13. "Was it that obvious?" The question came, voice soft but audible. Nyx's hazel eyes turning towards Locke, her head tilted to the side as a smile formed onto her lips. The Xana ordered another drink, for herself, and for the male. Only minutes later, the drinks were brought to the both of them, making her giggle softly.

    "You should go out there and dance, it's quite fun. I enjoyed it. Until a drink was spilled onto my dress." The Xana joked, shrugging her shoulders. She kicked her feet slowly, gaze set straight on the male. Her mind began to completely fog up, but she didn't wobble or fall off her chair. Her dress began to dry, which was what usually happened with any sort of liquid. Not that she could suck the water up into her skin or anything, but due to her living in the fountain, water absorbed into her clothes so they weren't wet. Almost like a sponge, in a sense.

    Calming down, the child inside of her slept soundly. "Or wait. Can you even dance? Or are you someone like me who.. Really can't, but still do just to annoy others." She asks, her smile forming into a small smirk. He was pretty cute, maybe he could dance.
  14. "Oh, I know exactly what you mean." Willow's whisper was conspiratorial, her smile hidden behind the rim of the beverage given to her by the Satyr Kip. It was delectable, as always. She nodded her appreciation. "A pity though, I was hoping for a gentleman of the Seelie court to be here."

    Willow clucked her tongue with disappointment, discreetly eyeing the mangle of roots that was a courtesan of the Unseelie court. It might be worth the time to introduce herself... Idly shooing away a moth that drifted too close to her lantern, Willow swirled the coffee in her cup with a delicate twirl of one finger.

    "Well, no use pining." Willow tittered, her glow flickering with amusement. Pining, oh sometimes she cracked herself up. Willow never pined. "I shall just have to content myself with the company of the most beautiful lady present."
  15. "Quite obvious once you become vocal about it. Then again, I would expect anyone to walk through the front door to enjoy themselves, or this wouldn't be a very popular establishment." He paused and popped the ebony pipe between his teeth again. "I don't go to unpopular establishments. Have to have something interesting about them, yeah?"

    Locke puffed absently on the golden vapor in the pipe, watching the xana with hazy green eyes. "I don't just dance-- I dance well," he chuckled, tipping the bar stool that he sat on off its front legs. Human establishments were a common place to find Locke, and those human establishments were entirely based around good drinks - that Locke had no interest in - and more dancing than the average being could handle. He'd learned in this new age plenty of different styles that made his hobby more enjoyable.

    "Have you seen humans dance? Very fluid... not as charming, but fascinating. I ought to teach you how to move like they do."
  16. The Xana rolled her eyes in amusement, laughing softly. "Well you're certainly right. about that, my dear." She smiled a bit before jumping off her stool, grabbing the males hand. "But, I honestly find that you like the view a lot better than dancing, so C'mon. Show me your moves, hun. I'm quite interested in what you have to show."

    A smirk formed onto the Xana's soft lips, gaze set on the other as Nyx pushed him onto the dance floor. She set a hand on her hip, leaning on her right foot as she watched in complete anticipation. This was pretty fun, talking to the male, and dancing like s lunatic. This seemed to be the best night yet, for her at least. Usually she's just sitting at the bar, getting drunk to the point where she can't really stand or do anything else. Now, here she was, acting almost as if she was a huge creep as she watched Locke.

    Of course, she didn't know if he would really dance or not, but it would be quite the show. Maybe some of these twits could learn a move or so from Locke, and possibly teach themselves to dance much better. Now, not everyone was a terrible dancer, she wasn't saying that. But, some people were like her, who had absolutely no experience in dancing and usually looked like an idiot trying to get a bug off them or something. It may be a nice, funny sight for most people, but it was pretty embarrassing. "By the way, sorry for screaming earlier. I'm a kid at heart." Nyx grins cheekily, her shoulders rolling back once more.
  17. A smirk traced her lips, curling in the shadows of her face as she allowed the borderline sinister smile to overtake her face. But the human in front of her just kept staring and if there was a word for his expression, enthralled was it. Puppy love overtook his features but as she glanced around the room, her mind was already settling in greener pastures.

    "Now then, Uh..." God's be damned, what was his name?! Michael....Mich-Mich-Micah! "Micah. I no longer need your... services. Indeed your services had no interest for me. You may go." And just like that, she took her leave of the human male who had pleased her for a time and made her way to the bar with a flirtatious wink to the males she passed and her outward appearance drew in the appreciation. Of course, she didn't care for it to be honest but it was a useful thing, to be attractive to those around you. As she arrived at the wooden bar stand, she smiled capriciously to the bar tender and threw down enough to cover the best she could buy. "Your strongest, if you don't mind. I think I'm going to need a little of that creamy goodness tonight."

    The dark red of her tattoos shimmered and glinted like flowing blood down her face as she turned from the bar, waiting on the barkeep's attention to fall on her order and surveyed the hazy, smoky establishment. There were dancers performing, many fae and the occasional human who either knew too much- or had been brought here. She heard the clink of a glass being placed on the bench and chucked the young mostly naked satyr a flirtatious smirk, as she grabbed the glass with a thankful nod. A cream and brandy mix, potent and with a hit that was sure to keep her buzzing all night. She felt entirely like she belonged in this place, in the outfit she had loved most from court. An exquisite gift from a most illustrious lover: a midnight black dress that flows like liquid silk, patterned with the thousands of blood red strands that shimmered strangely like blood in the light, the sloping front adorned with the ruby of her namesake.
  18. A small smile pulled at the seemingly young woman's rose pink lips as she spotted the entrance for The Green Fairy club. She made her way to the entrance with confidence the ice blue silk dress she wore clung to her body as she moved back the velvet curtain and entered the establishment. Her icy eyes spotted the speakeasy's owner, "Vivi darling how nice it is to see you again old friend." She made her way to the other fae woman a necklace of diamonds at her throat in what appears to be the shape of a snowflake. Her black hair bounced slightly as she seemingly glided over to the woman and kissed both of her cheeks in a friendly way. "Your club seems to be quite the hit with the humans and Fae alike." She gave a more dazzling smile to Vivianne.
  19. The little beast flew into the fray, flapping its wings as it hovered towards the main table. Its blue scales shimmered and its wings fluttered. It may look beautiful and stunning, but do not be fooled, never be fooled. The appearance of a dragon and the wings of a faerie - that was a Fae Dragon, a species that wasn't very known for having man

    The being made a quiet landing on the main table, making a little purr, as opposed to a proper growl. "Excuse me mister," it spoke in a little rough voice, akin to that of a middle-aged man, "I'd love to have... ummm... I'm in the mood for something lighter for the day, please."
  20. Leon walked into the alley and noticed the large man by sight and smelled the pixie on him as he got closer. When he was close enough, he said the password to where only he, the dead eyed man and the pixie could hear as he took out a cigar and a Zippo lighter, both bearing the club's signature mark before he walked inside, lit the cigar and walked over to the bar "what's the special of the night?" He asked "and tell me there aren't any of those blood suckers here. Otherwise there will be a pile of ashes where the one thing i hate above silver was." He added, referring to vampires. It was to be expected of a Werewolf. The natural hatred and desire to destroy the undead blood drinking maggots, as he called them.
    #20 Victor Markov, Feb 5, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 10, 2015
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