[House of Precious Gems]Are You being Served? (Ifran)

[Azur]

Summer 75, 512 AV The heat of the day, soaked into the bricks of the courtyard over the course of many hours, now leached out to fill the evening air with a sultriness that rested on the cusp of uncomfortable. In a few more hours, it would have faded to a more pleasant feel against the skin. But for now, Azur could wish that Syna was not quite so generous with her summertime attentions to their desert city. He walked past the central fountain in no particular hurry. The few patrons that had arrived since sunset were already being entertained by several of his co-workers. There might yet be others, arriving after the temperature had dropped enough to make travel about the city more tolerable. Thus he was obliged to be where he would normally be on any given evening when he wasn’t working outside the House. The courtesans would typically stay quite close to the main ground level area where guests were initially greeted and preliminary entertainment was provided. This was a long room that ran the full length of one side of the House, and was open to the courtyard. Here music, often accompanied by singing or dancing, provided a soothing atmosphere for the pleasure of the patrons. Azur had been taking his turn in the line-up, playing the small harp in a skilled way. Then he had been told to go eat his dinner, while another took his place. Heading back after his light meal of bread and fruit and fish, he thought he would prefer to dance for a while, to avoid the drowsiness that sometimes came with digestion. Instead, as he entered the Room of Gems, Nurra gave him a summoning look and he crossed to her, where she stood speaking to another of his fellow courtesans. “I have to see to something, in my office,” his mistress intoned, her voice holding an edge of irritation. “Watch the gate for any customers. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. If anyone arrives, you know what to do.” Azur made her a polite nod. It was perfunctory. Generally speaking, Nurra treated him more like an irascible, but much loved, grandson than her property. But, when he was so inclined, Azur could show her the respect due her position over him. “Sure,” he replied, more casually. “I think I can handle it.” He then gave her a mischievous grin, much more like his typical self. But she was already moving away with the young woman by her side, and Azur turned his attention to the gate that kept the undesirables out and created the illusion that here was a pretty, secure, tranquil oasis in the midst of the grandiose squalor of Ahnatep. He considered wandering over to chat with Meret, but he decided against it, knowing that Nurra frowned upon any of them neglecting their primary roles of attentiveness. There were hours enough for socializing. Evenings, though, were a time for work. Seating himself on the top of the two low steps leading into the room beyond, Azur rested his elbows on his thighs, his forearms crossed loosely over his legs, waiting patiently to see if another customer might arrive.

[Ifran]

Laughter preceded him. Ifran strode forward at a sedate pace, social climbers and hangers-on fluttering about him like so many butterflies and raucous parrots. Their colors were bright, their movements nervous, making him look all the more like a living statue or gold-limned alvina. His face was a mask of calm good humor, eyes lined in kohl, eyebrows accentuated with the same, and even his dark hair twisted into various horns with wax and some oil that made it glimmer with a bluish iridescence. Heavy blue skirting fell to cover his feet, the slits offering glimpses of dark silk pants underneath, and a wide silk belt rose over his navel. His arms were clasped in gold bands, but his chest was open to the air. Those behind him observed the carefully painted peacock feathers that rippled along his back as he moved. Though he seemed to be the leader of the pack, truly he was letting them move him. It was a part of the life of a noble and an artist in Ahnatep, and he did not argue the point. His return made him a hot commodity for the time being; it would be through skill that he would leverage that into a more lasting fame such as he had enjoyed previously. He was a piece of art himself, and so was his life, but few meditated so profoundly upon the nature of art. Their little posse stopped before the courtesan acting as gatekeeper. "What, stand aside!" said a man, jostling Azur. But Ifran had come to a stop, waiting to be invited inside. The smile he turned on Azur was kindly if anything.

[Azur]

Azur’s temporary assignment had lasted no more than a few minutes, when the guard at the gate, Meret, poked his head inside the courtyard, clearly looking for someone. Just as clearly, his slight frown indicated that he wasn’t seeing the one he sought, and Azur could guess who the missing party was. He rose from the steps leading into the hall of gems and walked over to the gate. “Where’s Nuura?” Meret asked, his deep voice clipped. The gate guard, who also acted as bouncer, had his moments of acerbity, but Azur noted an extra layer of intensity to his tone. The two had lived under the same roof for eight years, and the younger slave was, on occasion, attuned enough to the other to know when something was amiss. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say there was something that the guard thought merited their mistress’ attention. “She’s gone to her room,” Azur replied, not wasting time with any silly, smart ass come backs. His expression was mirroring Meret’s own, when he asked, “What’s up? Something wrong?” Meret too knew this was not an occasion to bandy extraneous words about. “There’s a small entourage coming down the way. Nuura said nothing of any patrons of this sort being expected. But it might be that they are headed here. She should be notified.” Azur made a quick decision, and one which he knew both his mother and his mistress would have condoned and approved. “Go tell her. I’ll go out, and see what their intentions are, and try to convince them they want to stop here, in case the idea had not occurred to them yet.” He gave the burly guard a quick grin and moved with a speedy grace to the gate, while Meret went in search of the boss. Stepping through onto the verge of the street, Azur glanced to his right and spotted the referenced party immediately, for it was one that would have been hard to miss. Like brightly colored bees buzzing about some beautiful blossom, a small crowd of sycophants and attendants circled about a central figure. They were quite close already, and Azur could easily admire the focal point of all this attention. He was a well built Eypharian who walked with a regal air and who was garbed in absolutely splendid attire, consummately tailored yet elegant in its simple lines. Azur sighed, gazing at the comely, dark haired young nobleman, envious of his splendour, though in a simple desire to be as beautiful as he was, and not with any malicious spite. But the young courtesan could not let his whimsy interfere with his job. So without hesitation, as the lord and his minions drew close, Azur stepped forward, knowing he would be in the path of at least some of the toadies. He did not have time to cast even a cursory glance down over himself, to see if all was in order with his own wardrobe. But it was simple enough, so he had no great anxiety over it. A teal colored kilt, embroidered at the hem with tiny golden suns, complimented the celadon eye paint, speckled with hints of gold flake along the rim of his lashes. Jade earrings and a plain gold colored collar, of base metal of course, were the extent of his finery. As always, he had paid careful attention to bathing and grooming early that afternoon, and he was never so glad as right this moment to have had it drilled into his head to always be prepared for anything and to expect the unexpected. So as he stepped forward a bit, he might think longingly of more lavish clothes and jewelry. But for his place in this world, he was well turned out. Having intended to capture their attention in any case, he certainly accomplished that, at least in terms of the one vassal who shoved at him and told him to move out of the way. This wasn’t the courtesan’s preferred reception, but it came as absolutely no surprise. If he had been struck, he wouldn’t have especially cared, though he did not enjoy physical pain of any sort. He was willing to take one for the team, however, because this man was just too impressive looking, and thus no doubt wealthy and powerful as well, to let pass by without a valiant attempt to engage his interest. The indignant words of the villein had no affect on Azur, other then to warrant a deep respectful bow, hands pressed together palm to palm in front of his chest, directed at the lordly one, the other crony being ignored, for the moment. As Azur rose from the low bow, he gazed surreptitiously and modestly at the magnificent looking Eypharian and he of course noted that the one of six arms seemed to be of a congenial air. At least, he did not look affronted or hostile. With years of tutelage under his belt, Azur spoke in a soft, polite tone. “My lord*, greetings. Welcome to the House of Precious Gems. Are you perhaps expected? I’ll gladly summon my mistress, if you would but step inside.” The young courtesan raised eyes reminiscent of the shifting colors of the sea, to look more boldly, but still respectfully, at the potential patron. “Or perhaps this is your first occasion to patronize our humble establishment? Please, enter, and I promise you an evening to remember. Whatever you desire, your wish will be our command.” He bowed his head politely, those lovely eyes disappearing from view under the veil of his heavy, dark brows. *OOCIf there is a better title to use here please let me know

[Ifran]

"Thank you," he said graciously, the timbre of his voice redolent of his years of training. Since Azur's grasp of Arumenic wasn't entirely offensive to his trained ear, he was kind. "It has been some time since I was here. But let your mistress rest; these people are adept at finding their pleasure. Are you not?" The bulk of his words were in the vernacular Arumenic, though the last question, addressed to his cadre of admirers, was shot through with all the complex variances of the High Arumenic, taunting them with infinite subtlety, all the while showing them a sort of affection. They laughed, pleased to be in the orbit of such a charmer as him. Many moved ahead, not waiting for Azur's invitation. Since the House wanted patronage, they were not stopped. All were of a sufficient social status that their passage would not be barred, their money eagerly accepted. They fluttered forth like intoxicated butterflies, even to the last young girl, who had come with an eye to trade her virginity for the Northwinder's good graces. She giggled at the sharp slap of his hand to her backside, rushing forth to follow the others. This left Ifran with the humble courtesan. "And now their entertainment is no longer my responsibility," he said with a smile. Even his gestures and expressions were subtle, full of nuance and meaning, trained into him from his youth. "They will want to see me, though, to say that they spent the evening in my presence. Is there a comfortable place for me to sit in full view?" From another, this might have seemed like the height of vanity, but while Ifran knew the value of his beauty, he saw it as something to appreciate, something to use, but nothing to be proud of. Beauty was a fleeting thing. This was just the request of a visual artist who knew how to place himself on the stage and off the stage for the desired effect.