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61st of Spring, 521
It was the midnight rest, but Madeira had a job to do.
She rubbed her gloved hand over her aching eyes and took in the scene around her. Obscene decadence was splashed across every inch of the Red Lantern. Gauzy red silk hangings shimmered in a haze of incense and pipe smoke, and low burning lanterns glimmered off the opulent gilded furnishings and the bare, supple skin of the products on display. Madeira hadn't stepped inside the brothel since her wedding day. In fact she made a point to avoid it, despite once being a regular client of the Madame. It was no secret that this was a discreet respite for even the most unavailable of people, but those men and women still had Cheva marks. Madeira had no mark, and therefore felt the need to defend the legitimacy of her vows. Just being inside the brothel felt risky.
But she owed Madame Belladonna a favor or three, and the woman had decided to call them all in tonight.
The establishment was strangely empty. A few workers and their customers were spread about the place, busy about the business of pleasure, but it seemed the poisoning was keeping most of the pleasure-seekers away. Madeira's eyes passed over them, following a different sort of sight. Her Eiyon gnosis was blowing nothing but a sort of spiritual white noise at her, unfocused and drifting. Madeira brow puckered in frustration. The Red Lantern was haunted, of course. The problem was there was more than one.
Autumn Rose was the resident specter and known to at least one of the workers there. After an initial misunderstanding Madeira managed to sort out the situation, and the ghost existed peacefully in their midst ever since. But Belladonna's letter implied there was a new haunting in the Red Lantern, one more mischievous and malevolent than gentle Autumn.
Madeira's eyes adjusted, taking in the ethereal glow of the projection-handled objects in the room. There was signs on nearly every object not nailed down, and many of the people as well. The Spiritist pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. This was going to be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.
"My queen, have you finally come for me?" A man, black and sleek and hairless, wearing nothing but gold cuffs and a sheen of sweat, approached the Spiritist with a smile.
"One day, Hassin, you beautiful creature", Madeira lifted her head and laughed, coming back to herself. She offered him a hand that he bent to kiss, his dehydration-cracked lips barely brushing the back of her glove.
“Shall I let the Madame know you're here, my dear?"
"If you'd be so kind."
The prostitute paused as she took Madeira in. The Spiritist stood out in the lush decadence of the Red Lantern, looking like a virgin acolyte in prudishly high white lace and several thousand kina worth of diamonds. But all the carefully groomed beauty in the world couldn't cover the red hives across her cheeks and the way the dress hung empty off her boney shoulders. She looked decidedly unwell. His expression softened.
"Your wish will always be my command", Hassin's sparkling eyes danced into hers as he bowed to kiss her gloved hand once more and swept away. He moved like a fish between the couples and the chairs, looking to be navigating more by memory than sight as he deftly avoided all obstacles in the dimly lit room.
With nothing else to do but wait, Madeira made her way to the bar, to order "anything but water" while she waited for the Madame or another worker she sent in her place.
She rubbed her gloved hand over her aching eyes and took in the scene around her. Obscene decadence was splashed across every inch of the Red Lantern. Gauzy red silk hangings shimmered in a haze of incense and pipe smoke, and low burning lanterns glimmered off the opulent gilded furnishings and the bare, supple skin of the products on display. Madeira hadn't stepped inside the brothel since her wedding day. In fact she made a point to avoid it, despite once being a regular client of the Madame. It was no secret that this was a discreet respite for even the most unavailable of people, but those men and women still had Cheva marks. Madeira had no mark, and therefore felt the need to defend the legitimacy of her vows. Just being inside the brothel felt risky.
But she owed Madame Belladonna a favor or three, and the woman had decided to call them all in tonight.
The establishment was strangely empty. A few workers and their customers were spread about the place, busy about the business of pleasure, but it seemed the poisoning was keeping most of the pleasure-seekers away. Madeira's eyes passed over them, following a different sort of sight. Her Eiyon gnosis was blowing nothing but a sort of spiritual white noise at her, unfocused and drifting. Madeira brow puckered in frustration. The Red Lantern was haunted, of course. The problem was there was more than one.
Autumn Rose was the resident specter and known to at least one of the workers there. After an initial misunderstanding Madeira managed to sort out the situation, and the ghost existed peacefully in their midst ever since. But Belladonna's letter implied there was a new haunting in the Red Lantern, one more mischievous and malevolent than gentle Autumn.
Madeira's eyes adjusted, taking in the ethereal glow of the projection-handled objects in the room. There was signs on nearly every object not nailed down, and many of the people as well. The Spiritist pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. This was going to be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.
"My queen, have you finally come for me?" A man, black and sleek and hairless, wearing nothing but gold cuffs and a sheen of sweat, approached the Spiritist with a smile.
"One day, Hassin, you beautiful creature", Madeira lifted her head and laughed, coming back to herself. She offered him a hand that he bent to kiss, his dehydration-cracked lips barely brushing the back of her glove.
“Shall I let the Madame know you're here, my dear?"
"If you'd be so kind."
The prostitute paused as she took Madeira in. The Spiritist stood out in the lush decadence of the Red Lantern, looking like a virgin acolyte in prudishly high white lace and several thousand kina worth of diamonds. But all the carefully groomed beauty in the world couldn't cover the red hives across her cheeks and the way the dress hung empty off her boney shoulders. She looked decidedly unwell. His expression softened.
"Your wish will always be my command", Hassin's sparkling eyes danced into hers as he bowed to kiss her gloved hand once more and swept away. He moved like a fish between the couples and the chairs, looking to be navigating more by memory than sight as he deftly avoided all obstacles in the dimly lit room.
With nothing else to do but wait, Madeira made her way to the bar, to order "anything but water" while she waited for the Madame or another worker she sent in her place.
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