Part of a Series: The Royal House of Lair
The Royal House of Lair: Establishing a Role
Tale of Ten Torments: Sight -
The Sightless Prism - (Adult Forum)
Tale of Ten Torments: Hearing
The Soundless Chime - (Adult Forum)
Tale of Ten Torments: Smell
The Perfumed Miasma - (Adult Forum)
Tale of Ten Torments: Touch
The Heartless Cavity - (Adult Forum)
Tale of Ten Torments: Taste
The Rotten Kiss -(Adult Forum)
The Royal House of Lair: A Feast for All the Senses - (Adult Forum)
The Royal House of Lair: Staging a Revival -
13th of Ashan 722
Pau Alegre had tried and tried, and finallly made it through the gauntlet of other hopeful candidates to be considered as a representative player for the Duchess of Lair, in the latest production for the Wounded Stage. The play was to chronicle the murder and deaths of the five or six mistresses of the late Duke of Lair, from the time they received his body parts, to their own untimely departure from the mortal realm. Thus, Pau thought he would make the finest selection for the part of the Duke himself. The play wasn't a perfect historical accounting of those crimes and events, but more of a passion play, with the memory of the Duke playing a starring role in each of the mistresses' reaction to his death and eventual downfall.
The Duchess had commissioned this play herself, and even ingratiated herself to the powers behind the Wounded Stage, which had ties to the Theocratum, it was whispered. So her choice in the play for the role of Duke was of paramount importance. And now Pau had weedled his way past the rest of the competition, by both hook and crook to gain the Duchess' attention.
And now, he stood in front of her, in a plain robe, which was the costume of the Duke of Lair's 'shade'. He stood for a few moments, more stoic than usual. The role called for a different affect than Pau was used to projecting. Much different. And he may be required to change the color of his hair and skin as well. There were many physical requirements, which he was more than qualified for. He shifted uneasily as he stood before her, however, somewhat tired of standing so still. There was that, but also the fact that he was unused to standing in the presence of such grand opulence. Rich golds and crimsons festooned the halls of the Ducal Manor House of Lair. The Duchess herself was dressed in a fairly plain robe herself, which came down to her shoulders and wrapped around in a nonetheless rich fabric of velvet. The charcoal color complimented her light blue skin, and matched the black of her hair.
Pau found her attractive enough, anyway, that he didn't have to pretend chemistry with her. She was statuesque, and had an attractive hue to her skin, a cold glare that promised a woman of experience and seasons. He thought he'd like to get to know her better even, if the circumstances of their business were a bit differeent.
"Disrobe." She commanded.
And so he stood uncertain for a moment, but then began removing the robe, untying it by the cinch at his shoulder and letting it fall to the ground. There he was made to be naked in front of her. Her eyes traveled up and down the illusion that was his assumed body. She took a walk around him, taking note of the various intricacies of his illusory form, including the mark of Syroa that was still upon his back. "You have the demons mark."
"Yes, Syr..." He began, but was cut off by her interjection, and a hand wave.
"We do not say her name here." The Duchess's voice was clipped as she said it, but then resumed with a bit of mellowness. "Not that it matters, with Moseke and Famula fanatics freely frolicking about the streets as if they own the Gleam." She came around to his front, and reached down to check his measurements. With a satsified look on her face, she nodded, "You'll do I suppose."
"The false gods are nothing." Said Pau dutifully, wondering if indeed the rumors were true, that the Duchess was fallen in with the Theocratum. His voice was wavering though, uncertain as he was. "We should have them run out."
She smiled sweetly at him, "Even Vri worshippers are allowed to perform marriages. To think, the holy sacrament of matrimony, polluted by that whimpering godling."
Pau nodded eagerly, catching upon her distaste for the Immortals. Afterall, what stake had Pau now that Syroa was dead? Or rumored to be such.... For the second time.
"Hmm." She took a few steps away from him, and then lifted her arms in a gesture, guiding his movements subtly. Pau knew her to be a mage of some ability, who could command telekinetic force. He wished to learn from her, but had planned on ingratiating himself first, before asking for any favors. Nevertheless, he stood passive and idle as she moved her arms. "Dance for me now."
Pau paused, he didn't dance very well, although he enjoyed busting a jig from time to time, he was by no means a trained ballet dancer. "Dance?"
"I won't ask twice." She stated, and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to move.
So move he did. His first attempts at dance were shy, tentative and unsure. He extended one arm, while the other bent, bending with the forearm just above the abdomen, palm upward. From this move, he shifted, and extended the other hand, then bending the one that had formerly extended in the other direction. He maintained awareness of where his body was at any time, using his eyes along with his dance, his gaze trailing from his bicep, up to his fingertips.[/knoweldge]
Gradually he incorporated more aspects of his body, his legs moved in rhythm with his arms, thus putting on a very basic dance for the Duchess. Once he was comfortable in his movements, he ventured to query of her, "What role shall I perform for you now, Your Highness."
"You are the late Duke's Lair's severed head." She said, her voice strangely cold and unfeeling.
He gulped, despite himself. So, he took on the persona of the Duke's severed head, wondering just what that really meant. As he danced, he let his tongue loll out, just as he imagined an unfeeling severed head to do. His eyes chanced to glance at the Duchess' expression. She seemed so humorless, almost as if she were displeased. This distressed Pau greatly. When he saw this, he tried to make up for it, improving the line, "I am the late Duke's Severed Head."
Still no change in her demeanor, but he did think he caught the twitch of the corner of her lips. Still, some encouragement was better than none, even if he imagined it. He thought, not for the last time, he'd like to explore those lips in another capacity, but then... Would the Duchess be taking on her own role? Who would play the woman herself?
As he danced, his head lolled from side to side, almost too far to be comfortable, yet he was committed to his role as the severed head of Royalty.
"Wherefore is there a pillow, to lay my severed head upon?" Pau contiued dancing, almost getting dizzy as he spun and spun. Until at last, he lost his balance entirely, and came to a sudden stop on his knees before the Duchess.
He looked up at her, and smiled. "For your Highness, I present the late Duke's Severed Head."
She looked down on him, an inscrutable expression upon her face. Was it approval? Disapproval? Amusement? He couldn't tell.
And he didn't have long to consider it, as he was seized from behind, his arms twisted and clamped in irons. He felt hands grasp him from behind, as he was carried bodily from the chambers where the Duchess held audience with him. The robes were thrown over the lug's shoulder, as he was borne away.
His eyes went wild, "Wait!" He said, crying out to the Duchess as he was born away by a large and strong guard. "Where are you taking me! Unhand me! Duchess! Please I will do better, don't throw me ooout!"
The Duchess' voice echoed from the chamber as he left it. "I have no intention of releasing you, Pau Alegre. You have greatly pleased me, in fact. I'd like to make of you a permanent guest."
"What?" He shouted, feigning fright, though his mind sung with joy for his apparent success. "Why, where are you taking me?"
"Mistress says you gotta go in the dungeon. In the Dark. Sit to stew a while. So I bring you." The dumb brute said, as he squeezed Pau's arms.
Pau felt his asterism pulse with anxiety. He felt butterflies as he was tossed in a cell, after being brought down the stairs. He only had one last glimpse of light, as the windowless cell door was being swung behind him. He cried desperately just before it shut him into the dark. "Please, Mistress!" He screamed, "Did I get the part!!?"
The door shut in his face, throwing him back as he tossed himself against it. Then he sobbed in the dark. And maybe he felt a little bit of that sorrow.
