With material smooth as silk, long-sleeved heaven draped the burly limbs of Vaudeux Jupiter and his waistcoat of forest green. A dark frock coat came fitted over his wide shoulders down to his narrow hips, while the absence of usual cravat bled to the world the tanned hues and muscled ridges of his traveling neckline. As gentlemanly as a patrician he was fitted with poise, so that when he swaggered up the flourishing Ondolondian boulevard tradesman many beckoned him to their stalls in order to taste a small sliver of his most visible wealth. But it was not for trifle the man seemed to crave as he passively roved by, as the sun crept away behind him under the cover of the mountain range; but the cool respite of a creature comfort, the embrace of a familiar warmth, the faint allusion of danger. Many things were carved in the surrounding rock for the Ainur, but none stroked this particular fancy. He walked forth until the scrubbed plank of a door gave way to his entry, into a tavern known for its rousing entertainment: Wet Monolith. And there, he had come upon his wishes.

Inside was posh, yet blanketed him with an immediate casualness that was captivating, welcomed, and pleasing to the eye. Walls of stone cased the innards of polished wood high and wide around him, so that the dash of oak led his notice round to the long bar to the east, and the spacious lower level dining to the west, to the stage raised shortly at the farthest point in the back of the Monolith. Twinkling torches burned low, ember-like flames, giving the air an almost musty, romantic quality to the already inviting ambience. Drawing him from his inspective trance, a nervous, hard-faced owner bumbled around with his surname and the sweat gleaming on his face for a few, breathless minutes before Jupiter calmly requested to be sat. Across the dim the pair traveled, betwixt spouts of small tables sporting stirring couples and their curious gazes; through the wall of chairs playing host to bouncing men, rowdy for the promise of entertainment hinted by the lingering scents of feminine incense wafting from the stage. Jupiter gave each sight a passing glance, for, though such things were few to witness, they were not new, and invoked nothing in him that hadn’t already passed. Hunger, greed, lust…youthful emotions that once led him through Ea and only now led him, unknowingly, into burden.

“’Ere we are! Best booth in the house,” the owner announced once their journey had ended beyond lust-filled bodies and strong scents of alcohol. Vaudeux found the offering dark but comfortable no less, as it sat almost privately besides the butt of the bar, with high-backed cushions and waist length table. Mumbling thanks, the Ainur shifted himself into the booth and mentally played with the low candle flames nearest to him. Coaxing it wordlessly he shifted the light so that it cast halfheartedly over his booth, revealing only that a man sat in his lone, overlooking the space before him with a set of charming orbs. Jupiter came to realize that his spot came to fit him, for he could see clearly the happenings of the tavern but was not apart of them himself. Only a single disturbance rattled onto the table in front of him, as a gruff belly pushed a pint in his direction. Vaudeux gracefully retrieved the liquor and first partook in its rich smell, aged to something nice. It was clear that the owner was fixing for him to stay for more than a cursory glance.

Lightly he took a draft, and once the amber liquid had slid merrily down his throat, Jupiter began to relax. He spread himself wide in the booth and settled back into its hugging cushions, just as the fires surrounding the stage were lit for performance before him. Observing the routine of the hands, who set up the show only briefly, and as the buzz of excited chatter beginning to throb around him, he awaited the acclaimed dancers set to entertain, to entice. Time passed briefly. Little by little the curtain parted and leg by leg the dancers emerged, scant material flowing around them like smooth silk.

Feet hurried across the cobblestone, the clatter of expensive shoes against inexpensive road. Brown orbs darted about, and the feet darted within a tavern that was the favorite of a variety of wealthy gentleman and one noble female naiad. The man who ran the place was swiftly becoming beyond rich, and was investing this money into the tavern. His lineup included no lack of gorgeous girls, none over the age of twenty five, and each harboring a slightly different figure and form. The waitresses were legendary for their garb that was as skimpy as that of the dancing girls, shreds of silk that demonstrated their ample bosoms to the fullest.

Vivianne slipped into the establishment, and hurried across to the table that was usually her's, a booth that had an excellent view of the entire establishment, and one that all the waitresses had to walk past. She bumped into one, and tried to make it look like as much of a mistake as possible, but still relished the feel of soft flesh. Her eyes darted down and low as she walked past, examining the last bit of the slightly annoyed wench's form. Moments later she had slipped into the booth, and rammed her hips straight into something hard. She twisted, bringing about her hair, and her bust, hurtling straight into him.

Disappointment rung through her mind as she noted this thing she had struck was either a skinny girl or a guy. Her eyes sifted through the misplaced locks of hair and found that it was a man. And not just any man, but the representation of masculine beauty on Arda.

Misery filled her mind and conquered it like a many tentacled beast. He was probably here to look at the male eye-candy with a face and fashion like that. A flicker of genius lit the muck of depression on fire, and she wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, lifted her bust up against his pectorals, and dealt him a single, sultry kiss.

"Are you the boy I asked for?" She inquired in the lustful tones only a naiad could give. A giggle escaped her lips as she released him, adjusting the dress that she wore. To say the very least about it, she might as well have been one of the attractions of this particular establishment. Her back was bare most of the way, and her front was covered by a well-fitted strip of bright blue cloth, ending at the top with a pair of triangles that hardly covered her coppery breasts, which lead upwards to a lacy black collar around her neck, that served the purpose of supporting her and hiding her gills. The skirts lead down to her legs, albeit with two large slits down the side, from which her legs were revealed. Black stockings crept up her legs from the tips of toes that were concealed in laced stiletto heels. The stockings ended just beneath the ends of her legs, leaving a tantalizing triangle of sumptuous leg bare.

Her hair was left loose, a slightly waved curtain of ebony brushing her shoulders and doing nothing to conceal the red lipped and lustful smile that had taken hold of her face.

"Or are you here to enjoy the show?" Vivianne continued, in the same voice as before.

Sensuous swaying, hips rocking boat-like to and fro across the distant stage, and a high melody carrying the bodies along on their enchanting rumba to an aroused claque of onlookers, the dancers danced. From dim elation to euphoric Cockaigne, the tavern was alight with new life. Vaudeux felt it buzz eagerly inside him until it crept downward - like a bolt - to his stomach, a rising contentment as he watched the dancers. There he sat drink in hand, lone in his booth with a silly, handsome grin moved to dimple his tanned cheeks and pout his full lips; utterly fine with his surroundings as if entranced, and markedly unnoticing of the oncoming onslaught of feminine guest. Much like a heavy gust carrying hard to his carriage, her body came; but like a soft, westward wind he caught the fresh fragrance hers, that swiftly bloomed inside his nostrils from a twirl of her wild, raven locks. And with the pressure delicately upon him, there he sat aware of the abrupt presence of a duo of soft mound upon his hard breast. Suddenly, quite suddenly, he found his front full of woman, his shoulders taken by her advances, his lips stolen by her own soft and sticky flaps.

Body tingling, Vaudeux sat not knowing what to do with himself but to be in distilled wonder for this ready stranger. Soon he discovered himself staring back into a set of strange, blazing eyes, watching those perfect lips form sets of perfervid lyrics to the rising song of his body, gazing keenly as he looked upon her dainty fingers pull raucously at her attractive…The heat burned fast within him at that moment so that he could have steamed. All he could think about was the lustful stranger sitting next to him and her sudden appearance upon his luxury. This was naught the way I planned, thought he, swallowing the fast-forming salvia that laced his hungry mouth. It was not my intention to be cozen by such trifles. Oh, if ever I got so brave. Instantly, and from the same place his contentment had arose, he again grew hot. As if such things could extinguish the burning of his inner fire, he lifted the white-knuckled grip on his drink in-hand to quail the flames with a gulp. And, just as instantly, the odorous beverage slopped clumsily from its case and was lost, down his front, in a tawny chute.

“Damn, my coat!” Protested Jupiter, jumping swiftly from his spot as smooth trickles of cold ale had began their inadvertent decent into his lap. Coolly and with much discretion the Ainur stood, frowning down at his wet mess and appearing unsure whether to pat it away or beg for cloth to rid it dry. He stood not long before a waitress passed and, with a sharp delicacy, began to help him wipe his frock of it’s mess, but not without abundant smiles and timid giggles. When the ale began to dissipate was when Vaudeux took notice of the beauty that had chosen to aid him, and how she was spending an unnecessary amount of time wiping away at the spot just below his navel. Light locks tapered up, round face satisfied with cleaning, Jupiter gave this face a grin when she had finished and sauntered back across the room to her work. Meanwhile he had stripped himself of his raiment, now dappled with unwanted blotch, and shot a languid look back to the booth. There the supple stranger was left, her lush questions still left unanswered.

After his fault, his mood was left stagnant, so that not even catching a trace glimpse of this woman’s soft skin could mend it right. Skin that looked as if many have touched, with grab flying loose that begged for attention, pleaded for wealthy tip. He would not be taken in so easily.

“Enjoy the show, yes,” began he temperately, long digits again grasping his half-empty pint. “But I did not intend to have such loose company in my booth. So, if you’ll excuse me, I believe that man over there would be more than willing for your services… and your maladies.” Vaudeux motioned cruelly towards a lone portly man, grinning toothlessly from across the bar, with such a visible grime that his skin seemed to be crawling bug-like with filth. Then, Jupiter held his glass up face-height to check himself in its warped reflection, one hand smoothing out the wild wisps on the sides, one mouth pouting with ease.

As the drink spilled, Vivianne had already left the seat, and watched it spill across the man. She stood betwixt chair and table, one hand resting on the table with her hips cocked as she watched the waitress. They were former prostitutes, one and all, but the man seemed uninterested in how her delicate hands cleansed him. It struck her that he wasn't paying any attention at all, up till the moment she left him. There was no smile while she worked. Then came a biting insult for her, but, she simply smiled it off coolly, as she was of noble heritage, and he couldn't claim the same no doubt. Attempting to scratch Vivianne's hide with words or blades was difficult, she had an intense sort of discipline, something that allowed her to be almost entirely fearless, and she would never be caught doubting her own abilities.

Immaculate and flawless were words one used when describing Vivianne Marin.

"Well, I'd assume one of your type wouldn't enjoy my company either way, good sir. It is of course your choice to awake in the bed of another man, and I shalt not encroach on it, beyond the fact it is so much easier to seduce a man than a woman, but I can plainly recommend one thing." Vivianne said, but as she did so, she had projected her voice, and grabbed the attention of the entire establishment with her brazen tones. A slight smile curved her lips, and she leaned forwards so as to look through the glass and at the man himself.

"It doesn't help any to insult the girl you would have never received in the first place." Vivianne stated. Her eyes idly bounced over to an attractive young girl in the midst of her routine, her rose-lipped smile curving ever so slightly more. After a while, it came to the point that she completely ignored the man, she'd had a hundred like him before this, and sat down to observe the scantily clad woman. She leaned back, smile wide on her face, and allowed her dainty little hand to prod the back of his head.

"Admittedly, you could get her. It takes a few coins for a boy, and a little work for a me, and the same amount of coins in the end. Perhaps less. I usually get discounts, you know?" Vivianne explained. Of course, she doubted he knew, those girls were a notoriously pushy bunch when it came to getting their good, hard cash from men. She crossed her legs, showing off far more of her bronze limb than was necessary. Her head was suspended by the back of a seemingly dainty hand, one that was held erect by an elbow that was pinned to the table.

((I apologize for this taking so long, but I seem to have just rediscovered my writing beat.))


From the bar mug, a distracting, brownish hue bent his handsome image askew; one he was so accustomed to viewing that it became a habit unnoticed. The coppery mask of the stranger became clear over his preening routine and so Vaudeux stopped, lowered his glass, and peered over her with an expression of mild heat. At once he took notice for the inward control she was displaying, how the mark of his reckless words was unapparent on her slightly stirred, almost mischievous visage. Yet he also noted her tones arising, attracting not only his delight for riling her, but also the notice of the closest, spotty bar patrons. Their intoxicated eyes turned away from the dancers afar to the newest show behind them, brimming to stew. With the scantly clothed aristocrat going cleavage-to-chest of the striking traveler, bringing red to his shapely cheeks and furrowing his attractive brow- the promise of more than a heating bar-side quarrel was rising.

Jupiter was incensed. Brought to the accusations of his perhaps flamboyancy, left him thoughtlessly wandering to the only man he had ever known as desiring to bed him. Caked in mud and invading his space, he had come with nothing but a dirtied costume of earth and an array of sparkly, crude words. The slippery being he had come to know as Nathaniel. And the thought of being compared to such an atrocity left his sword-calloused hands to wrap themselves tightly around his weakening bar glass, to pull roughly at his delicately appealing wear. Now, with a crowd involved, Vaudeux was more aware of himself enough to flash them a half smile before starting a slow, haughty swagger over to his newest opponent who sat, deliciously smug, in his booth. The situation wasn’t far from different than that of Nathaniel‘s, he mused upon his approach. Lately he had a bad habit of coming across those with a trying prerogative to irritate and dominate him, yet who all had failed to do so. Jupiter wasn’t going to let the tides change.

He let his eyes wander over her body as if sizing her for sale, but kept himself dangerously silent, to leave her to wonder what next would escape his full lips. From her bright and firmly fitting garb, down to the immaculate bare skin exposed out of the slits of her barely-decent skirts, he wondered how best to attack this sharp-mouthed beauty. Though his body ached with something much more than destructive anger, his fingers, wrapped twitchingly around his mug, sent dangerous volts to his mind. He filed in around her, the span of his arms wide and almost unreachable as they stretched themselves about the escape of the booth. He pressed his firm palms upon the darkened wood of the nearest wall and into the scrubbed varnish of the overused tabletop. His vested chest hung silkily beyond her perceived boredom, while his smooth, tanned face crept level with her own. And with eyes that had captivated souls many, he stared into her own set of almonds with a glare so defiant it seemed to challenge her every coming breath.

“Dear girl, must you lie to make yourself feel better?” Flouted the gentlemen with a mock half-grin. “You need not hide that you are hot with an untried rejection, so I am sorry to have bestowed this anew on you,” a mocking chuckle rumbled from his throat, as he lifted his tabled glass as if to sip from its half-emptied contents.

“So please,” Vaudeux continued, glimmering orbs still locked with her own, veiling his intentions with every nuance that passed from his luscious gums. “Let me cool you off.” And so he tipped his poised drink unexpectedly in his palm, so that an amber fall would come coolly upon her expensive, showy attire. The Ainur smirked as if expelling the liquid was all he needed for retribution, as he watched it splash copiously about from whence it hovered. As drunken beads flew in intoxicated air, tempers rose and fell like the line of performers jiving in the background, to the exotic beat.

Vivianne watched as he paused, and ordered a glass of water. She sipped it as he contemplated inwardly, his anger portraying that she had touched a nerve. The subconscious was such a brilliant little thing, it whispered lies, it whispered desires, and most importantly, it was a constant. Vivianne fathomed what he was thinking, her sharp mind plowing through possibilities as she thought beyond the obvious. In the end, the obvious was the likely truth. She tipped the water glass back some more, and finished it just as he began to speak. Her eyes trailed over to him as she delicately held the glass in her spare hand closes to the man. Her chin rested like fragile china in the cradle of her hand, coppery fingers gripping her cheeks only loosely.

"Rejection? Why, I had no interest in you, and I have yet to lie in my lifetime." She stated, calling up a noble accent with crooning sexuality. Then her reflexes twinged, and she shifted empty mug from table to beside her hip. As amber liquid poured from his drink, she caught it within her own mug with a smile.

"Well, aren't you clever? It would simply amaze the average woman to see how you so viciously fight against such a silly joke of a declaration of your sexuality. Of course, when one fights so hard, it must be a well kept secret." Vivianne continued. She smiled, that full sarcastic smile that had marked so many inferior people. The naiad stood and left the booth, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. She planted the alcohol on the table of a man she knew, and she leaned close to his ear, and whispered what very well may have been sweet nothings.

"This is from the man in the booth, I think he has a taste for muscle and not flesh." Vivianne murmured. The man's eyes lit up, and he removed his hands from that of one of the many male employees. He gestured with his face, and they both took up seats flanking Vaudeux, and immediately began to suggest the most scandalous acts in the bed room. The man made the gesture of tightening a whip in his hands as the employee giggled, mentioning how fabulous it was. At this point the entire bar had turned their heads, nodding to each other. They knew who to avoid from now, and the rumor would spread furiously.

The noble girl, however, had left, giggling as she went. Sometimes, there were better things to be had. Particularly anywhere that such a startlingly uncouth simpleton could spend his time. As she walked down the street, she giggled yet again.

"Aah, Ondolond. One must love a city when the entertainment is so very varied." Vivianne stated. She paused for a moment, drenched in the light of a full moon. The naiad chuckled softly to herself, and went in search of a new venue of entertainment. The inn she was staying in certainly wasn't lacking.

The sickening being approached, licking dry lips hungrily, funny eyes roving with a sensuality that made Vaudeux’s stomach drop in nausea. Between the two greasy-haired jerks, he watched the woman slink away with the perceived last word, and every ounce of strength within him burned to not let this happen, to fight back. The blockades beamed disgustingly in his way, approaching suggestively, motioning with maddening ardor for him. One, with the knack for feigning pleasure, came fourth with the woman’s offering of transferred ale, eyes half-cast with drunken delight. Jupiter eyed both patiently budding with anger. They began to speak to him, in falsetto voices and with lyrics that did not appeal to the Ainur’s running mind. Then, one reached forward as if to touch his shoulder, to gently caress the one so unwilling to receive his affections, the one who quickly lashed out before any movement could be completed.

The mug burst into the air, spilling its alcoholic contents over its carrier and bashing his friend with its shattering container. Glimmering with a tawny slickness, intensified in the glow, the man stood agape with horror and rejection as he watched his attacker motion again violently through the tense air. A bee-sized spark twittered with finesse from the angered Ainur’s long digits, and came to alight his ale soaked victim. The scream that came next, was shrill and girl-like as it sputtered from the torch of ensuing flame-life, an all-encompassing, devouring flame-life. A collective gasp came from the copse of onlookers, who once were convinced, were surprised of the gentleman’s angry outburst. The flame-afflicted spun around, battered with hurt and confusion as he searched for relief around the bar, but only managed to stir its guests into fits of safety-escaping riots. They moved desperately around, away from the flaming man and his blazonry, as Vaudeux, in turn, tending to his other unwanted acquaintance with the winding of a solitary, crushing punch.

Already speckled with both shards of glass and tiny flesh wounds, the flamboyant man collapsed to the ground in a heap, while Jupiter stepped over him, writhing with pain. Bypassing screaming patrons and the general chaotic resonance of the once pleasantly seductive Monolith, Vaudeux left in a flurry with frock in hand. Those left behind, now convinced otherwise of the woman's word.

The night’s air hit his retreating façade, making wisps of his spiked raven locks. He saw the rocky Ondolondian road, the full, ivory moon knobbing from the blued sky, and a womanly shape strolling away. Seeing her confident gait march so eloquently in the dark, made him realize just how much he yearned for the last words between them; that he couldn’t allow anyone to take hold of him so falsely and to then tramp off to spread the falsities about. A jog that made his waistcoat bounce airily against his rippled physique, had him at her heels with a few easy steps.

“You know,” he began, breath reaching out ahead of their pace as if to bait him forward for longer stride. “For someone so confident about herself, you couldn’t have been more wrong or seem so isolated.“ Jupiter chanced a look out of the corner of his eye, for the tension was still thunder-thick about them, as though he feared his every word might be twisted against him. He felt his defenses rise, and no matter how serious he intended to be, his mind would not allow himself to submit. At that moment a draft of alcohol drifted up as a cloud to his senses, lending him the matter on just how much he smelt of a bar, how much he hinted at insobriety. Which did not subtract from the reality that he walked in pace with this (frustrated) beauty.

“All dressed up with no where to go?” Teased the handsome guardian, knowing not where these words came from in the buzz of his mind.

Vivianne wheeled about, bright eyes a' smiling. She adjusted her skirts, eyes upon the man, and noted who he was. Vaudeux Jupiter, he had caused a conflagration in the tavern, and as it burned, she idly realized that this may very well be the end for her, for everyone. Destructive fires might cleanse all of Ondolond of its people, its unique joys, and every little bit of joy it ever brought.

"I suppose this is a swan song, eh?" She stated. Her mind was clear, she could accept this, and she danced her fingers upon her shoulder. She ignored the hateful things he said, for what was happening was everyone's fault.

"This can be stopped, but fire abides no master in the end." Vivianne Marin murmured, leaning close to him.

"I'd rather prefer that it didn't happen this way, but all things die, and I can tell that you aren't so angered. I am liradan, I suppose, that's what they've called me before. But you don't like us, do you?" She whispered, her voice light and lulling. So slowly, she became at peace with herself. In her hands formed gold, and it flowed from them as though it was sand through an hourglass.

"Isn't it sad? This will all mean nothing." Vivianne stated, yet didn't seem so concerned.

"But this shouldn't be the fault of few and yet still destroy all." She murmured, her eyes alight with the images fire. Her arms came around his strong shoulders, she leaned into him, and then pulled herself to his face, granting him a small kiss. Vivianne smiled, sheepishly, and turned to look at the flames. They were brilliant, fascinating, and then she stared at him as the plant matter lowered her.

"I was born an orphan, I was saved by an admiral, I became one of Lomedor's finest noblegirls, I ran away, and then I came back. In the end, I suppose it all equaled out, I'm a better person for it." She explained. Her eyes fell upon the citizens as they failed to flee, unaware of the danger. Others rushed in, trying to quell the flames with buckets of water. Others tried to take them from their homes, screaming what was about to happen to them. Vivianne disengaged herself from him, and in the true manner of such a girl, she walked straight for the flames.

"There are lives that aren't yet lost, Vaudeux." Vivianne stated, giving him a wink before she walked straight into a house with the flames ever encroaching upon it.