Closed [The Velvet Curtain] Dirty Jobs

[Kaveh]

12th of Spring, 515
Evening

He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table as he unwrapped the freshly folded paper to reveal the muted scent of tobacco. With a free hand, he dug into his pocket for the wood pipe he carried, tapping the bowl upside down on the table to clear it of any ash remnants. After a few satisfying taps, Kaveh began to pack the tobacco into the bowl, occasionally pressing down with his thumbs to check for the tell-tale springy sensation. Once finished, his black inky gaze wandered from the pipe to the nearby waitress, gesturing her over with a flick of his head. Recognizing the Chaktawe as a regular, the girl was quick in reaching his table, lighting his pipe with practised speed. As the sulfur began to burn off, Kaveh took a closer look at her, only really seeing long legs and swollen breasts. Without warning, he then grabbed hold of his hostess's small waist with a firm grip, pulling her into his lap and nearly causing her to spill her drinks. She laughed in surprise, her heart calming as she readjusted her weight to more comfortable position. She turned to face him, a coy smile on her pink lips as she spoke.

"A bit needy tonight aren't we?" To which the healer merely grinned, eyes heavy with hunger.
"Ha, not for you sweetheart, but you could get me a glass of wine. Something dry and smooth this time."

With that, he gently slapped her bottom, bouncing her back to her feet. Bringing the pipe to his lips, he drew gently and evenly until the rest of the tobacco was lit before puffing slowly and rhythmically. He held it in for a moment as he savoured the flavour, the smoke captured between his lips, a sweet taste dancing above his tongue. Kaveh leaned into the back of the couch, gaze drifting upward toward the barely clad pole dancers on stage and the filled rows of seats that surrounded them. Even amidst the rowdy crowd, the Chaktawe was visible for he sat in the first row of couches just behind these seats; his favourite vantage point of the Velvet Curtain. From there he could recognize a few faces twirling around the pole, greeting their gaze with his own. The dance routines were familiar as well, for they rarely deviating much from the usual set each dancer was comfortable with. It either became a show of flexibility and strength or character, for there were few performers who were skilled in both. Not that they needed to be for they were all fairly attractive, exponently so with each article of clothing removed.

Despite having seen these shows so often, he still found it entertaining to indulge in such debauchery. If anything, it served as a nice appetizer and a good display of the girls, a more engaging menu if you will. Kaveh soon found his eyes drawn to the dark skinned human on the rightmost pole, a new girl it seems. Her dark brown hair whipped around her as she spun, muscles tense with effort as she held herself up. She wasn't the most striking girl, as demonstrated with the more sparsely seated audience before her, but he always did found the more average looking girls interesting, often choosing to be serviced by them over the more attractive whores. They tend to not rely so much on their physical appeal and worked harder for their coin by developing on their skills in bed rather than lay there like a dead fish. He didn't blame them though, in fact, he was friends with quite a few of them. It was a sentiment he could relate to; why waste your energy in putting in more effort when the end result would be the same?

Kaveh watched quietly, puffing away at his pipe as he became a Chaktawe chimney. One particular move however, had him easing toward the edge of his seat. The new dancer had pulled herself into an upside down leg split and spun, wrapping one straight leg around the pole while one hand pushed up against her lower back for support, caused Kaveh to cheer loudly. He even stood briefly, hollering along with the other men. "Hooo, now that's how you do it!"

Ledger-2gm for cover charge
-1gm for a glass of wine

[Caelum]

It was the second time Caelum had set foot in Velvet Curtain despite the length of his residence in Riverfall. The first time was not an experience he cared to repeat despite the fellowship he had found in Silka re Bashina, the recently risen Madam. She had taken control of the brothel in the wake of the Djed Storm and her rule had not been successfully challenged since. That was at least in part due to a few private services provided for her in the department of secrets by Caelum. He had it in mind to strike an even deeper sort of bargain with the shrewd Eypharian, but he knew that was a thing that would have to come in time if at all. It was, like many things, another road he was peering down. A pair of gold mizas was dropped into the waiting palm of the bouncer and Caelum ducked inside, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. The moon hung in the sky tonight in the shape of a sickle, grey splotches of light slicked over with palest heat. Though Spring was yet young, it was not a cold evening and neither was the moon to match it. The physician always wondered what made people consider Leth and find him cold and aloof. Caelum knew he was none of these things, The blood in that god's veins pumped hot and wild and could have matched the music drumming through the Velvet Curtain tonight. Fortunately, he failed to attract the immediate attention his celestial day form tended to. There was little to find exceptionable and exotic, he figured, with the face of a long dead Drykas man. Dark hair was braided tightly back, twisted into a knot at the nape of his neck. Gold flecked his eyes and the ink of his windmarks spilled down his arms, visible due to the shoved up sleeves of his plain black tunic. Paired with dark brown leathers and a pair of riding boots, he could have blown in on any one of Zulrvav's many breaths along with the other horselords who had come adventuring since Endrykas passed so close by the Akalak's city this seaon. In fact, Caelum had only recently returned to Riverfall from there. "This is a surprise," a familiar voice drawled at Caelum elbow, and he looked over to smile automatically into the lovely face of the Curtain's madam. "What could possibly have hauled you out of Alements at this hour, Caelum?" Silka inquired, an eyebrow rocking prettily upward. "I've an interview to conduct," Caelum admitted easily, and his smile took on a rueful tilt. "Silka, it's been too long since I last saw you. Won't you come grace Alements some time soon? During the day, perhaps, when both our businesses are slower and we might take time to speak." "In private?" Silka smoothed a bright curl behind her ear with one hand even as she reached with two others to tug Caelum's sleeves down his forearms, straightening the cuffs and smoothing away the wrinkles in a slow, thoughtful manner. "It's business, isn't it?" "Isn't it always? Your business, mine." The Drykas stood still, at apparent ease with strong shoulders comfortably slouched as Silka straightened him out. Another moment or two, though, and Silka's knowing gaze caught his, and caught on. Her hands withdrew, but curiosity burgeoned. "Some say you know quite a bit about my business," she remarked. "I'm always sure to laugh at them. You'll thank me for that." "I will," Caelum acknowledged with a murmur. "So you'll come soon then?" "Oh, honey." The madam laughed, a silken roll of sound that entwined seamlessly with the music. "I wouldn't miss it for pearls." Three of her hands waved him languidly on. "Be sure not to let this interview end the same way your last one did." "I'll try." A grin was shot Silka as Caelum ambled past her, and then through the crowd towards the Chaktawe chimney at a table near the stage. Kaveh's Akalak step-father had come to Alements and to Caelum specifically in search of a favor wherein his wild son was concerned, and though Argar had too much pride to put it into those words, Caelum didn't need an explanation to understand a desire. Not, at least, in a very long time. "Hey. Share your table?" An amiable smile was offered Kaveh as Caelum arrived near him, sinking into an ignoble slump against the chair's high back while he eyed the hostess winding her way toward them with a bottle of wine. Silka knew his tastes.

[Kaveh]

Seated once more with pipe to lip, he continued to puff along, the smoke enveloping his now restless form. Naturally, a dancer should not perform one high energy move after the other as it dulls the element of surprise and the reaction to novelty. Kaveh knew this much from his frequent visits. (Surprisingly, one can learn in such an environment, despite what his step-father Argar may think.) Yet he sat wanting more, always more. At times his desires seemed too great, too numerous to lead him to any one direction, leaving him in a pool of murky indulgence. They say a hedonist is born out of the need for more; perhaps they met Kaveh. And so with impatience, he waited for the new girl to impress him once again, his inky gaze daring. Expectedly, she was still easing into the groove as she rested her muscles, entertaining the crowds with a show of character and seduction. One, then slowly (almost painfully so) two small pieces of her costume melted away, revealing a bright red bustier. The colour shone against her tan skin, catching the lighting and his eye. Unknowingly, his next breath was drawn more quickly, causing a mild burning sensation to the tongue. Instinctively, he pulled the pipe away, spitting air as a way to escape the heat. It was then that a voice lifted his ear as it diverted his attention away.

Mildly annoyed by this interruption, Kaveh responded with a light fire. "I'm sorry but who the Hai are you?" Quickly, he looked over the intruder. A human, a heavily tattooed one at that: Drykas. At least, he believed these were the tattoos that the Drykas wore, not that he was familiar with the difference between a regular tattoo and Windmarks. He simply believed that it was some sort of tradition, having never seen an untattooed Drykas that wasn't a young child. Then again, perhaps he did and simply mistakened them to be a run of the mill human. This one's tattoos in particular were dark, perhaps due to the contrast between the ink and his pale skin. Otherwise, the stranger's appearance did little to warrant more than a glance.

It was then that the drink came, finally. The hostess set down a cup and proceeded to uncork the bottle, pouring the liquid in. His throat was beginning to feel parched from the tobacco and so, gladly, he stole the wine from the hostess before she even finished, nearly causing her to spill. "Oh -" She began, but was silenced by a wave of his free hand, his brows gently furrowed as he sipped. Recognizing the dismissive reaction, she left, leaving the Drykas to deal with him.

"Ugh." He exclaimed, pulling the cup away to smell the beverage. "Didn't even get the order right." Kaveh muttered, casting the cup aside with one swift motion, somehow managing to not spill a drop. He had a sort of luck with these things, but clearly not so much with patience. As his body calmed, it dawned on the Chaktawe that it must been the other man's drink. Yet he had not heard him order, and drinks are not to be taken at the bar so where had this transpired? Curious. Then the only conclusion would be that this Drykas was a regular as well, for they knew his regular drink. Kaveh hadn't taken the pale stranger to be a frequenter of a brothel, at least, that wasn't his first impression of the man. In fact, he could not recall ever seeing him here before.

"Yours I take it?" The Chaktawe gestured toward the lonely cup with a lift of his chin. "Have some of mine when it comes." He offered, his best attempt at an apology. This was already an unexpected display of kindness for him, of which he failed to notice. Perhaps it was due to the man's air, one of trustworthiness that he would be hard pressed to explain in words. No matter the response, afterward the Chaktawe would then turn to face the stage once more, clicking his tongue briefly in an attempt to soothe the burn.

[Caelum]

"Caelum," the physician replied easily. "I own a healing bar on the third tier -- Alements. You may have heard of it. Who are you?" A study was made of Kaveh by gold flecked eyes. It was thoughtful and reserved as Caelum slunk into the booth and sat back. He propped an ankle on the opposing knee, strong shoulders slumping comfortably. There was an undeniable air of nobility about him, not yet a lost quality among the mortals of Mizahar. There was nothing cold about him, however, a warmth in the quick and sardonic smile he offered Kaveh. Argar had told Caelum that his stepson was Chaktawe, but Caelum did not know much about the race. He had met one or two, their paths crossing in the general course of things, but beyond their exotic, full black eyes he was ignorant of their biology and even their origins save that they sprang from the deserts of Eyktol. He was looking forward to finding out more about them, and their anatomy, in the coming seasons. "If I'm not mistaken, you're Argar's son. Aren't you?" He tilted his head curiously and watched the wine glass be tossed aside. His smile merely deepened. "He and I are acquaintances. Mutual interests and the like. Yes, I believe that is my wine. You're welcome to it. But if you don't like the vintage, I can order another. I'm somewhat well versed in the city's wines. Occupational hazard." When Kaveh turned his attention back to the stage and the woman dancing upon it, Caelum spared it a glance. It lingered with a deepening appreciation for the dancers and their art, an mix of sport and seduction that was impossible to untangle. The desires of Velvet Curtain rose like steam through the cozy interior of the club, but at least they were largely uncomplicated. "Did you burn yourself?" He asked abruptly, eyes slanting back to Kaveh. There was a dull ache that shimmered through the matching rakanivas coiling down both of his forearms to emblazon themselves in opal gold on the backs of his hands. The favor of Rak'keli was famous, easily recognizable, and often impossible to hide.