tampered | Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Friday

Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Friday

When; Friday, February 5
Rating; Pffff it's a brothel, idek. 'May get porny' What sort of rating is that?
Characters; The Master, ANY NUMBER OF EMPLOYEES, CUSTOMERS, ETC.
Summary; It's the Belle Epoque. The Master has a brothel cos he can.
Log; In the red light district, there are any number of bordeaux, catering to a vast array of clients. Tambour Amoureux, however, has a certain...something to it. The owner, a Monsieur Harold Saxon, has made sure of this. He may be a British import but his attention to style, to the quality of entertainment, to the health and well-being of his girls, is still impeccable, to say the least.

From the outside, it's not necessarily instantly obvious what sort of establishment it is. There is lighting, and a certain welcoming atmosphere, and the name on a large sign at the front but it really could be any number of cabarets. Of course, the connoisseur of such places would easily recognise the name.

Inside, there is a stage, for performances, as well as tables and chairs and several couches as well at certain points to the side. The room has a rich mahogany and deep red colour scheme. There is a staircase, more discreet, off to the side, leading to the upstairs, where there is a hallway, with lighting more dim than the lower levels; various doors leading into any number of bedrooms.

Most discreet of all, and a place that requires either longer patronage, or association with someone who knows the secret is a backroom, lavishly furnished with couches and carpets and drapery. Here, one may purchase opium, or bring one's own and relax in a comfortable surrounding.

[ooc:....okay, you guys, this is me trying my hardest. It's a curse so...accuracy...whatever, yeah? Also, apparently, waiting until the morning to post is TOO MUCH. I was going for....a bit more brothel-y than Moulin Rouge, you know, cos the brothel is the focus, rather than the cabaret. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PLEASE INVENT THINGS. I kind of...bare-bones'd it so I'll be stalking over everyone's posts and if you add in a piece of scenery or a specific thing to the maison then I'll add it into the description.

Also, it's never too late to join the Master's....team. Just go to the post linked in the Character's section. Message me or something if you want to talk out stuff or ask questions or suggest things or whatever. Or work out character connections to the Master because I totally didn't do that at all... Also, I've got the log labelled as 'Friday' right now for...less confusion. I'm going to do a 'Saturday' post as well, making any amendments if some sort of plot happens today. Or anything. Again, if you think I should change this, tell me. I just....wanted it to be organised.

Oh, right, and the Master is Monsieur Saxon to everyone except his girls, to whom he is 'Maître' because he CAN BE. (Oh, Priestly, you can still call him 'Monsieur le Maître' only that's kind of 'Mister Master' which is acceptable silliness from Priestly but maybe not so much EVERYONE.)]

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He is a constant presence in the maison close. He might be sitting at his favoured table--off to the side but close to the stage--he could be wandering through the room. He might be watching from anywhere, really, and it's his right as the owner of Tambour Amoureux.

Harold Saxon speaks French impeccably, with only a slight British accent and sometimes, not even that, as if he's forgotten his own accent, which is, of course, ridiculous. He is always well-dressed and fashionable, and quick to smile. However, he is equally quick to anger, if you disobey the common courtesies that are the rules of the bordello. Despite his business, he is rather well-respected in society.

[ooc: A post for if you'd like to interact with the Master. He could be any of those places or anywhere else. Feel completely free to godmod a little and invent where he is, where you'd like to talk to him.]

The Maître is much more hands on than one would expect, given Inara's firm hand with his girls. So when Faith runs into him (not literally, of course; running pell-mell through the maison is strictly disallowed) at the base of the staircase, it's not anything resembling a shock. "Maître." Even Inara can't quite break Faith of the tiny glimmer of insolence calling any person-- man, specifically, but let's not quibble over details-- 'master' brings out in her.

...The rest of her address is, however, impeccable; slightly wicked smile, a briefly bowed head, all the expected nods to authority.

As the Madame at Tambour Amoureux Inara often appears to play the same role as Monsieur Saxon. Of course that's not quite true. Her responsibility is the girls while the Monsieur resides over the entire establishment. While the girls are often in a certain state of undress one might say, Inara is always impeccably and stunningly dressed (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Wai0KpzGIPQ/SOkAxTW0ofI/AAAAAAAAB2I/lDUC8i7JH5A/s400/PIC_1386.jpg).She circulates through the front room, pausing at tables to put a hand on a client's shoulder, inquire about their evening (one never asks about a client's family), their well-being and perhaps if the client is very fortunate, Inara will sit with them for a few minutes.

She circulates through the hallways above, making certain that everything there is status quo but always returns to the bordello below. The girls have been taught to handle themselves in the rooms above should a problem arise. Below takes a bit more of a delicate hand.

Most often she can be found at the end of the bar with a cup of tea watching out over all of her darlings to make certain everything is running smoothly.

Edited 2010-02-05 17:19 (UTC)

Priestly hops up out of the couch he is reclined in, smiling cheekily and broad at Madame Serra as she passes. His hand goes to his bare head and, as though he's removing his hat, it swings down in front of him as he bows in a grand gesture.

"Madame!" Anticipating her scorn, her bring his head back up straight, tucking his elbows and extending a hand to take her own.

For they who are less comfortable with their own presence in the maison Priestly situates himself, dressed rather well (if not rumpled and missing his vest) thanks to his Monsieur le Maître near the center. He keeps an eye open for the tell tale shifty behavior and nervous air of an as yet unbroken filly (or colt) and moves in as necessary. Of course there are particular individuals he waits for, even if Madame Serra would disapprove of his actions. Therein lies a portion of the fun, of course!

The more intimate parts of his job are something that simply may well come to pass. However: his purpose, regardless of what his Maître requires of him, is to bring comfort and ease to paying customers. Shyness is to be left at the door, here one may open up to him and be what they truly are underneath without fear of scorn or ridicule.

He will respond happily, his northern American accent quite noticeable, and he may regale you with tales of the Wild West and the savages the government is conquering for the good of the pale faces in America, if you like that sort of thing. Priestly also has stories of the prospering cities and corrupt government officials if gossip if more your style.

Of course if you're simply looking for carnality, he is able to make other uses of his mouth...

[ooc; yes he's a whore, yes he'll have sex with your bb if they can pay but i will ftb any actually sex. if your character needs a little confidence boost he will also provide that (if you can pay)]

Penny, for her part, can't remember why exactly she had decided to become a fille de joie (there are so many charming ways to say something roughly equivalent to 'prostitute' in French, but that is her favorite). Freedom may have something to do with it. She can earn her own money, save as she pleases, rise from poverty to become... something. Independence.

It isn't a bad job, of course--far better than working the streets or in the horrible factories. Maître is good to his people, and the accommodations for his workers are more than comfortable. He treats Penny just as well as the other girls in spite of her class and--if she is honest with herself--less than universally appealing looks. He tolerates her general disapproval of the opium den and the occasional rant about female equality.

Penny is lounging on a comfortable red couch waiting for an opportunity to work. She catches a glimpse of Maître--that's all she usually catches of him as he patrols his domain--and waves. If he has time, a little company would be appreciated.

Madame, of course, warrants the same respect as Maître. Penny admires Madame Serra--her grace, her beauty, her attention to the girls. She doesn't know the other woman well, being relatively new to the establishment as she is, but she likes her.

Penny throws sidelong glances at Madame from her couch. Business is slow--slower, perhaps, for Penny, who is willing to admit that she isn't the most stunning girl in the eyes of potential customers--and she considers striking up a conversation. It seems horribly inappropriate to begin such a conversation, however. Perhaps Madame would prefer to drink her tea without interruption...

Faith is not exactly the most expensive of the Maître's girls. She is, however, one of the best. When her Watcher told her about how she would someday be able to move, he likely had no intention it would be put to use in a brothel, a fact which is the source of no end of private satisfaction.

She can speak French now-- fluently-- but the accent is sheer America, as bad as it ever was living on the streets of Boston. There are certain customers who find it attractive, and Faith is contrary enough to cling to it despite those who don't. Call it in memoriam to the man who brought her to Paris in the first place.

It's hardly the worst life available to her. Beyond Council control, fed and clothed and sheltered by the very place that makes her occasional forays into slaying that much easier.

She positions herself off to the side, lounging bonelessly on a couch and watching as the maison comes to life. Unlike her fellow American, she doesn't cater to the inexperienced or unsure, the ones who want for a delicate touch and kind words. Faith is better for those who know what they want and exactly how much they'll need to pay to get it.

[ ooc: Faith Lehane: Errant Vampire Slayer and Whore. If your character can pay, there will be sex, etc etc etc. That's basically the jist. ]

Inara catches Penny's glances and it is obvious that the girl wishes to speak to her. Inara smiles at Penny, picks up her cup and carries it over to the couch where Penny is seated. Once she is seated as well, skirts arranged all about her, she places a hand on Penny's shoulder.

"How is your evening progressing, Penny?"

At Priestly's ridiculous display, Inara rolls her eyes, chin tilting up just a bit as if the hair he breathes isn't fit for her to breath as well. She extends her hand with an obvious look of disgust.

"Boaz."

His name is said with equal disgust and superiority.

Penny sits upright on her couch, hoping that business will pick up. She isn't the most experienced worker or the prettiest, but she does get her fair share of solicitors. The quiet and shy tend to gravitate towards her, and she does what she can to make them feel welcome.

She glances around at her fellow workers. She doesn't know them well, mostly be virtue of being slightly afraid of them. Priestly--American, she thinks--is intimidating and just overeager enough to discourage her from approaching him. Faith, who is undoubtedly American, is outright frightening. There's something predatory about her that Penny shies away from.

She feels very different from her peers. Quiet, French... perhaps not of a different class, but certainly of a different breed. Penny's in the habit of wearing more clothes than them--not because she's a prude, but because she sees no reason not to appear respectable at work, even when that work is of a generally questionable nature. There's more to it than being a prostitute, though. This job is about freedom. It's artistic in its own right, and beautiful in its way. It's a chance to be a hard-working citizen with the opportunity to improve the lives of others.

Or so she likes to think.

Penny briefly considers striking up a conversation with Faith. They're comrades! Then again, Faith is a distinctly frightening comrade. Perhaps she wouldn't even want to talk to Penny. They should be competing, shouldn't they?

[ooc: Penny the prostitute. Oh yeah.]

Penny smiles back and sits up straight, glad to have someone to talk to and flattered that Madame doesn't mind. She answers in French (her native language and the only tongue she has mastered). "Fine! Quiet, but fine, thank you." Penny pauses, then adds, "And how are you, Madame?"

Inara answers in French. It's not her native language (in fact there's a great deal of mystery about what her native language is. She doesn't sound American but her English is perfect albeit often peppered with Mandarin) However it is a language she speaks fluently.

"It will pick up," she assures Penny with a smile. "I'm doing quite well, thank you. I know you're new to the position; are you finding it agreeable enough?"

Faith amuses the Master. There's something very satisfying about seeing someone so strong-willed forced to defer to him.

"Ah, Faith," he says in way of greeting, his eyes hooded as they flicker over her entire body and back to her eyes. His eye contact is always mesmerising. "How have you been doing today, so far?"

It's a beautiful accent, if ambiguous. Madame Serra is terribly exotic. "I hope so."

Penny smiles broadly. "I like it. There's--it's liberating."

After pressing his lips quite firmly to the back of her soft hand, he stands again, the smile fading just a touch. Enough that someone of her skill would notice, but those around them might not. He draws his back and tucks his chin in, pulling another hand to his heart and then pouts like a scolded child.

"You wound me so. And yet, you are of the few with the honor of that name," he exclaims, though a bit quieter than usual. "However do you expect me to act proper in your presence? Confronted with beauty so disconcerting, can I be held accountable for my depraved and perverted actions?"

In private, her response to the tiny, fading smile would be entirely different. However, they are not in private and this is a very public forum. They've both roles to play in it. She drops her hand and rolls her eyes at his dramatic response.

"Simply a flesh wound. If I were trying you'd find yourself quite incapacitated." Her eyes lower the slightest bit as his voice drops in volume. She knows there is a message between his words that is meant only for her ears. Her eyes met his again and there is a mocking in them.

"Then I shall have to make sure you understand the importance of making yourself accountable."

If Faith was a better Slayer, she might be concerned at the kind of power a man like Monsieur Saxon wields, even over her. But she is not a better Slayer, and staying in his good graces is concern enough.

She shrugs, the only Gallic affectation she's found to her taste. The men who prefer her come in later, most often, high on their own daring and absinthe or as soon as their households are neatly tucked away for the evening. The early parts of the day are rarely anything but slow, but she more than makes up for the lack once the maison fills.

"Well enough, thank you."

She does try so. She glances around the room then back at Penny. "It's a bit early in the evening. Dinners must be had and children put to bed before clients are allowed to venture out."

It's the truth of their job. Many clients have wives, mistresses and families.

An honest smile comes over Inara's face and she nods. "Indeed it is. There is something quite refreshing about having control of your own time and body."

Honestly, that appeal is what got her into the job.

At her threats, Priestly steps back as though completely abash. How could she! Someone so sweet and charming as he, surely did not deserve such punishment. He would have to earn it, as he did his cloth, room and board in the maison.

The smirk returns split-second before he spins to face away from her and sticks out his rear end. Priestly looks over his shoulder, the pout back in place and he pats himself twice. "Shall I fetch you a paddle, Madame?"

The comical display only provokes more disgust in Inara. She turns her head, back straightening impossibly even more. As if her corset would allow her anything but ramrod straight posture. She brushes aside her hair, hand following the line of her brow, down her cheekbone and jaw to rest at her neck for a brief moment before she looks back to Priestly.

"I assure you, my punishment won't be so benign. There is a certain decorum to be maintained. You woefully neglect it."

Rain's head immediately went down when he came close. He didn't hurt her, but he made sure she knew who owned her and that she must do whatever she was told, no matter how distasteful she found it.

Rain ducked her head again as Madame walked by. She was so beautiful and perfect while Rain was just a poor broken-headed girl who couldn't really understand much - or anything - in the way of subtlety.

And she scared Rain. Rain knew what she was here to do, even understood that the clients liked it that she was scared and unwilling. She knew better than to protest, but she was afraid that Madame knew she wanted to.

Rain liked listening to Priestly's stories, though she usually listened from a corner or out of the way place. He was so comfortable with all of... this... and she was always so uncomfortable and scared that he intimidated her.

Of course, everyone intimidated her.

Edited 2010-02-05 20:12 (UTC)

Sylar had not been affected by the change. His shop altered slightly, but he hadn't opened it back up yet (and, to be honest, there was still a little cleaning up to do), so that didn't matter terribly much. He'd been wandering the past few days, trying to think about his next few moves. He thought up all sorts of things, but nothing he wanted to settle on. And to be honest, maybe it would be okay to avoid planning for a little while. He just wished his mind would believe that.

Today he'd managed to distract himself by exploring the new City. He wandered in and out of entirely new places, enjoying the sights and sounds. Here, he plans to maybe catch a performance, do some people watching, and then shuffle off to other parts.

And then he sees Faith.

He immediately moves to the other side of the room, trying to watch her without being too noticeable. He probably should leave, as it was likely to get terribly awkward very shortly.

But he doesn't leave, not quite yet. He is now very interested in the full situation here. Besides, no one would ever believe this was an accident.

Edited 2010-02-05 20:15 (UTC)

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Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Friday

MONSIEUR SAXON

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Inara Serra

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Faith Lehane

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Re: MONSIEUR SAXON

Re: Inara Serra

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Re: Faith Lehane