Yes it has been quite some time since I paid attention to this blog. I'm trying to get back to my old writing habits, so while I try that please try to enjoy this fictional piece that is of on of my LARP characters. P.S. if you're still reading after 8 months of no updates, thank you, I really appreciate it.
"Well please, Miss Moreaux, please show us the savage dance that will bring your land the rain!"
A scene I have repeated multiple times. Partially for my amusement, partially to make it right. I smirk to Lady Tatar, in her blue dress and dripping jewels. Abel told me she only recently became a lady, and many believe she didn't deserve it.
This time around, I don't just stand there politely. Survival in this space is no longer an issue. I have survived. This time, I respond with a smirk and I approach her slowly, my low heels clicking and my stride steady. I put a hand on her hip and take her free arm up, and as her amazement manifests on her face I waltz with her in front of everyone at the gathering that night. Suddenly I hear a Strauss movement swell around us, and all of the people around us laugh in amazement.
This time the victory dance only lasts a moment before I become a fluid body floating down to the small lab I shared with Abel over a century ago, when we settled in the city. Before the fire.
He grins at me. "You have too much fun with this Lady S--"
Even in this deep rest I bring up a finger and raise my brow. "Excuse me, Baron Abel."
He nods as I land to the floor. "You are excused, Lady Quinn. Though I should apologize. I am glad you have found a way."
I try not to remind myself that I merely imagined that. The walls turn into enlarged, flat representations of some of my favorite compounds--lithium aluminium hydride, psilocybin, clove oil--which glow and give some needed light to the scene. I see Abel as I last saw him, in his jacket, slacks and boots before he ran into our haven and I could not run after him. I'm currently in the long dress and understated gold jewelry that I entered my rest in.
I look to the table to see words intermingle in the flasks and the tubes, bubbling in the beaked patiently waiting me to write down a result. But it's not time for me to, so I ignore it. "I am glad as well. Our work has helped me greatly."
"I'm glad I picked you well. Kindred don't like to admit that lineage is important sometimes, but I found it vital. If I hadn't picked you..."
"Abel, I'm not certain if you are my ego or not."
"Can I be?"
"I don't know, I'd ask Freud."
Suddenly a little rustling as the compounds shift slightly and change color--a light purple. It causes Abel to look ghostly. I feel a grin grow not only in my dream, but just softly as I rest.
"What could it be, Lady Quinn?"
"They've changed the flora around me. I'm assuming lilacs. That's a rarity."
I let Abel fade, and I float back onto a chaise in a silk sheath dress, my hair down. I lift my feet up and wait to see if it is Lord or Lady Quinn who will be reading me new poetry this evening. I feel lucky that I occasionally can even hear it.
Though part of me wishes they'd ghoul someone who was a francophone native. However, I'm not in a position to complain, so I lie. And I wait. And I enjoy.