Conversation Space IV.

[powersthatbe]

The small room is painted a dark beige, with stained wood paneling on the lower half, and lush burgundy carpeting. The ceiling, however, is cracked and bowed, sagging alarmingly, occasionally shedding chips of plaster. Wrought-iron lamp-posts in the corners suspend pale, wan globes of light, and between them along the walls run rows of painted sunflowers, all turned towards the center of the room as if listening attentively. A jutting spire of granite rises from the floor on a diagonal, its flattened top sporting a cracked wineglass from which the wine (a white) slowly spatters teardrops across the plinth. And there is no chair, but a therapist’s couch, blue with gold trim, and ornate scrollwork on the legs, beside which the fluted horn of a phonograph player pipes music into the room, quiet enough to just be background ambience.

Comments

[iseethe]

"Deception," Lune says, pleasure in her voice. "Illusion. Among other things. A cloak and a cousin, a silvered veil, blue beads buried at the crossroads. I did not come to this meeting unprepared, Bella Donna. I can be an obliging patron. One you must not trust--but then, neither shall I trust you. We shall play against each other and together we shall play against the others and if you have been playing games with gods before, Bella Donna, you have never played a game like this."

[star_of_the_evening]

Melisande has to laugh. The connection between them is quite clear now. "Well, that is quite an intriguing proposal. And what precisely do I get if we win?"

[iseethe]

Lune takes a step toward her. "Why, whatever it is that you dream of, Evening Star."

[star_of_the_evening]

"Well then," Melisande says with another smile. "How could I possibly refuse?"

[iseethe]

"Indeed, I hope you would not," Lune says, taking another step toward her. "I wonder," she says in a low, promising tone, "if we might seal our bargain with a kiss."

[star_of_the_evening]

Melisande does not move as Lune approaches. She can feel her pulse quicken. "Am I to kiss the lips of your mask then?"

1/2

[iseethe]

"No," she says, "I think I shall slip into something a bit more mortal for this."

She makes a motion with her hand, drawing it down her face if slipping on another masque on top of her masque--

2/2

[iseethe]

--and a rather more human-looking woman stands before Melisande. The shadows of her hair have resolved themselves into black curls. Her eyes too are black and rimmed with kohl, her bowed mouth painted black to match. Her skin, soft and supple, is a few shades lighter grey than her mask: a beauty in monochrome.

"I believe this shall suit."

[star_of_the_evening]

The look is, perhaps, more mortal but still quite unusual, like a drawing brought to life. "Indeed," Melisande says, taking a step forward, "it is very suitable." She leaned in, pressing her lips against Lune's.

[iseethe]

Lune opens her mouth to Melisande, yielding sweetly to her. Her arms slide up around the mortal woman's neck.

[star_of_the_evening]

Melisande presses up against Lune, deepening the kiss further. She is still not certain what exactly the Arcana really are but right now, it doesn't particularly matter.

[iseethe]

No, it doesn't. There's only Lune, molding her body to Melisande's.