I have an apartment here but I'm feeling indulgent. More than that I am feeling isolated and alone. They say that its a woman's way of coping to splurge out with shopping sprees and expensive clothing. I suppose there is a truth to this. When we feel less than how we should we tend to cover it in pretty gems and equally superb cuts of clothing, as though such trinkets would be absorbed through our skin and make our souls feel refreshed and whole again. I have enough diamonds and a wardrobe that is filled to the brim, and I don't need any more. Instead I have booked in for three days in a private room at the local Casino.

The room isn't the most lavish on offer, I don't need that all to myself, but I do have a room with a deluxe spa bath that I will use at every opportunity during my stay. In fact I plan to spend more than a few hours with a bottle of wine and a crystal glass drinking myself to shame behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes of Storm-crows and invisible Gods. But for now my luggage is unpacked, and with the room up to satisfactory standards, I’ve my purse in hand and moving back out and into the Casino.

First I spend some time eating alone in a quiet corner of one of the restaurants, keeping the meal light and not too filling. I must admit that the food here is quite good. It’s almost enough to make me want to eat all that is on my plate but I eat just enough, knowing that, even with plenty of room left in the bottom of my stomach, I’ve had enough to satisfy my dietary requirements. A glass of wine washes down the food, leaving a clean taste on the back of my tongue and is just the way to conclude a dinner.

Refreshed, courtesy to the bathroom, I return to the Casino proper and begin to wander around. I pause by tables, not too close to be obtrusive but to watch the various men and women at play. Watching the games unfold, I smile at ones misfortune and anothers luck. Even in man made structures and under the glare of technologies advances, nature keeps balance here. Thankfully here, the chaos of rolled dice are limited only to the table and these rooms. How very different it is outside, compared. There are contradictions all around that both amuse and concern me.

Another table, another game. I watch politely but do not engage myself with any of the players and politely refuse when asked. My smile is reassuring and shows I mean no harm. I’m merely a lady enjoying the atmosphere.  

--Last edited by Mila on 2009-01-14 04:51:24 --

2009-01-10 09:44:54 Gand the Great rolls 5 dice to Arete ['I have all the luck'][Entropy:1, coincidental, foci: Alchohol] (Diff 4) 7,1,10,4,4 (3 successes)

Some people really do have all the luck. A man in a wood smoke colored, gin smelling suit with a black tie, shaved head and huge aviators stands from one of the tables near Mila to yell at the other gamblers for a second.

'Hell yeah Royal flush Mother-flippers!'

He is kind enough to partially censor his language and stands proudly to re-light his long cigar after throwing his cards down on the table for the others to see.

There are murmers of 'Noone gets that lucky' and 'Bastard is cheating, i know it.' Gand blows a few puffs of pleasantly sweet cigar into the air and gives the table a dismissive wave.

'Play another hand boys, win back your money maybe? Lady luck approaches.'

Gand gestures as he says Lady Luck, presenting the perfect stranger Mila to the unexpecting table for whatever reason.  

--Last edited by Radiationjunkie on 2009-01-10 09:52:29 --

I'm bemused by the manner in which he speaks and the way his aviators clash with the atmosphere here. He is not the most unusual person I have came across, but he would be quickly joining that category and is the first I've found in this city. It's something, he's something, that is better than watching the roll of dice across the tables.

Coming to stand nearby the table, I look from one person to the other, shying from none of their glances or stares, then regard the one that dares call me Lady Luck. If he only knew...

With a small incline of my head towards the table, I stand nearby to watch the next game unfold. If they want to compare me to a mermaid guiding a boat it shall be their fault when the sirens come to call and drown them all. I'm not too bothered. It's their money and not mine.

My hair is in a twist roll, pinned behind neatly and leaves my features on clear view. I've always had good skin, it's pale and easily burnt in the sun, the complexion is well looked after with natural moisturizes as age creeps through my blood cells and robs me of my youth. Oh, I have many years yet, but each day is a new wrinkle and one step closer to deaths door. This, being an unexpected luxury that it is, has me in a form fitted high-waist skirt with a fashionable belt across the waist, and an expensive but plain blouse tucked into it. Its the sort of dress code that is very chic but a little too elegant to be worn in a business meeting. The waistcoat remains, a small thing that has been left opened, but does little to hide the definite curve from slender waist to hip. Tailored clothes are the best kind, I rarely buy anything less, especially when something should fit nicely, not snug or loose, as this outfit is meant to. The heels are leather and are no imitation, complimenting the clothing well.

Mila reminds Gand of an older, more tame Alice. Or at least he assumes she is more tame. She has an air about her that just seems to scream she wont be going for any of Gands usual tricks or games.

Mila's presence and Gands goading seems to convince all but one of the men to stay and keep playing. Gand grins ear to ear, hes already won this game. The dealer begins spitting cards to each man at the table and Gand looks up to Mila again, asking her directly.

'What will it be lady luck, do i bet it all or is my luck running out?'

"Bet half." I tell him. The Russian accent is half to miss. "The one that puts all his eggs in one basket is either foolish or very brave." A small smile remains, just a faint thing that touches the edge of the lips and little else.

'Such a safe answer. Lady luck is supposed to inspire boldness!'

Gand calls out dramatically to Mila as he pushes all his chips to the center of the table. He knows he is about to lose it all, but if he waled away with a win like this again hed likely never be welcomed back or accused to counting cards again. Besides, he figures a nice show of humility might con the lovely russian into having a few drinks with him.

Gand lays down his cards and has nothing. He is beaten by a fat man with a pair of nines and loses all his winnings for the night. He will stand from the table, done with this game for the night.

'I am ruined, lady entropy. Will you join me for a drink?'

"Perhaps." I agree with a small smile touching the edge of my mouth and incline my head as if conceding his point. "But such is the way of men, that should it not work in their favor they as soon as turn their back on Lady Luck and be done with her." I'm most certainly amused. It may not be expressed in broad grins or exaggerated animation but it's there in the way the depths of dark eyes take on a new shine.

"You are a gambling man, Sir." This, at his request for a drink. "Have you not already lost enough for one night?" My attention has shifted from the table to the strange man wearing aviator goggles. Eccentric. I wonder how old he is. He doesn't seem to be old enough to have acquired truly bizarre tastes. But this is America and their sense of fashion and trends are appalling. Whoever put chain with evening fabric, for example, should be hung with it.

Gand considers this. But in most Casinos when you lose big you get free drinks. Alchohol inspires boldness when lady luck fails, and bold drunks always believe their luck will turn and return their fortune to them.

'Perhaps I aught to rephrase that; Could I join you for a drink?'

2009-01-22 15:09:18 Gand the Great rolls 6 dice to App+Subt [Rougish Charm] (Diff 5: Mila's wits+3) 3,6,6,1,9, 10 (3 success)

Gand cracks a playful grin and finally removes the godawful aviators. He has thin red viens showing on the rims of his blue eyes. Hes either an insomniac or maybe a drug user.

I'm not one really for such appearances. It looks as though a kitten had tried to claw out his eyes, leaving bloodied streets throughout. Sleep or drugs, it could be either or none of the above. But there has always been worse. Much worse things have my dark eyes seen.

"Da." I'm smiling despite myself, it touches the edge of my mouth and curves the corners upwards. "I think your luck may stay with you for some time more."

Moving further from the table, I take a few steps towards the bars rather than the gambling games. With a glance over towards him, I wait. Expectant but patient. I'm in no rush and when he has caught up, I speak quieter this time; there is no need to lift the voice any higher than what is necessary to reach a companions ear, and they should be paying attention for such things anyway.

"What is your name?"

Briefly I wonder if he will give me grief about Russian women. He will not be the first, nor the last. My dark eyes regard him with a sidewards glance.

'I can only hope..'

Gand mutters slipping along with Mila towards the bar. It goes against his usual demeanor to just walk with her. Usually he would storm off ahead, or linger behind to see if her hips toss just right when she walks. There is something different about Mila that puts Gand on guard, or even hints that somewhere deep in that hedonistic heart there are a few manners still kicking about. Odds are they wont last long...

'Gand the Great.'

He answers as naturally as one would with a far less ridiculous name as they reach the bar. He will let her choose where they sit. The degree of isolation she chooses will speak volumes as to what gand might just get away with.

He tells me his name and I turn my head to glance at him fully to see if he is quite serious. He is. I shouldn't be surprised, not if the strange goggles were anything to go by. But I glance away, revealing little more than a small, barely perceived sort of nod, and continue on towards the bar.

I don't like stools. They are not meant for ladies. Really they are not. Too far from the ground, back exposed to the crowd, so that anyone may gawk as they so please. I don't approve of stools for ladies, but its a male dominated society and they don't have any sensibilities. Its a small table I gesture to, making my way there since he seems to oblige my wishes. I wonder how long it will last. Men are quite predictable. So a women, if I am to be honest with myself. Its only a matter of time before this gravitates towards ingesting of further alcohol and boundary limitations.  

Sitting down, after giving him a brief chance to pull out my chair - which I do not indicate I am after, but instead wait for him to approach his own before I sit myself. I don't expect him to, honestly. But its polite to give such chances. There are always small miracles. When I sit, I cross one leg over the other beneath the table and sit upright. I do not lean forward or slouch backwards.

"I'm Mila." I offer. Nothing else. No surname or a hand. I'm not sure I want him to touch me and I wonder, now, what it is that I glimpsed in him before that had me agree to this. He doesn't look very charming, nor does he sound it. Gand the Great indeed.

The usual set up just fell flat on its face. Its usually a surefire game to spout the stage name and get the typical response regarding status as a magician. Then Gand tells the woman her name or whatever else about her he can pick from her skull and its either off with the dress or on with the restraining order.

'Mila, lovely.'

Mila will not get her chair pulled out for her. Such a custom is entirely lost on the cultist. Gand does not share her careful posture; he sits like someome perputually at ease with a leaning slouch and and relaxed body. In the slight isolation of the table Mila will likely begin to pick up the subtle resonance that always emenates from Gand. A mood, if you will. Most people quickly judge him to be a dirty eyed pervert but theres another part to it. A dicey chaos amplified by their current surroundings. He is both intruiging and repelling at the same time.

'What is a beautiful woman like you doing wandering the casino floor by herself?'

Gand the Great, as he likes to call himself, reminds me of quite a few personalities that I have come across in my time. As I look at him across the table, with the way his posture slouches and his blood shot eyes seem to stare, calculated and yet completely blank, I'm reminded of Pavlo.

Pavlo was a New Moon Shadow Lord whose favourite past-time was to sit and stare at the women of the Sept, ogle them as if his dirty brown eyes could see right through their clothing. He'd often have this way of smiling, a lecherous gesture that curled his upper lip towards the right and had a crease wrinkle by his eyes. Every time I was privy to such look, my favourite game was to stare back at him, not with contempt, but with a polite smile and a clear look that he soon discovered, and meant that he could only ever dream of finding out what was under my skirt, and should he ever think about such a thing before me again, it would be the last wine I would ever pour for him by my hand. Strangely, I looked forward to that glance across the table every time he and his visited our estate, it kept the otherwise droll meetings a little more cut-throat. It was such a petty dance but I find myself vaguely bemused that I now sit across some piece of his reincarnation.

"Do you think I am incapable of entertaining myself, Gand the Great?" I ask, glancing towards the way his hands rest, where they rest, and purposefully look back to meet his eyes.

Then I remember.

"What shall I get you to drink?"

We had agreed that he was accompanying me for a drink and not the other way around.

Maybe he would like wine. I find myself smiling, just a small thing, that's almost coy with the way it hides at the corner of the mouth.  

--Last edited by Mila on 2009-02-03 08:56:06 --

Gand has certain advantages this Pavlo clearly did not. There are rules in Gands tradition regarding the pursuit of ecstasy. There are things you are not supposed to do to sleepers, even if its meant to help enlighten them. Gand has never been one to put much stock in rules- thats why he is here; the rest of the CUlt of Ecstasy all but ignores this city so he is free to sue and abuse as he sees fit without any Code of Ananda whining going on or attempts on his life for using or breaking people.

Gands eyes trail from Milas hair as far south as they can get with a table shielding her. He shakes his head with a grin that is less coy and more gutter-minded.

'Im sure your perfectly capable of entertaining yourself. But wheres the fun in that?'

2009-02-07 10:42:06 Gand the Great rolls 5 dice to Arete 'Dirty Thoughts are Contagious' [Mind: 3, Coincidental +3, Foci: Alchohol](used willpower) 9,10,6,6,5 (5 successes)

Maybe its Gands pervert resonance or the memories he dragged up for Mila. Whatever it is, something has triggered a wave of thoughts and quick visions in Milas mind. She may find Gand repulsive, but she will be having some awfully dirty thoughts about him.

'Three parts gin, one part vodka. Two olives.'

Gand will order his garaunteed to get you fucked up Martini and look to Mila expectantly...

I can see him with a large wine glass in his hand, he's sitting across from me, but we're not in the Casino. He's at my home, a wealthy estate of old furnishings and a crackling fireplace. There are others by the table, speaking in monotones that seem unimportant. This stranger, Gand the Great, is sitting where Pavlo had once, but he doesn't have the same upright pose as the Shadow Lord, and is lounging much like he is in front of me. My vision of him now interlaces with the vivid imagery that has instantly curled through my thoughts.

I'm crawling across the large timber table, sliding my skirt from my legs so that my knees can slip across the black wood polish. My hands leave imprints on the surface, heated from the way my blood boils in my skin. I like that he meets my gaze and hold it as I slide to sit on the table before him, parting my knees to place my winter boots to the arms of his chair...

... I'm in a bath and his hand dips between the bubbles and my legs. His eyes aren't bloodshot and they are several inches from where he blows cold air across my breasts, moving the soapy suds and replaces it with his mouth.

'Three parts gin, one part vodka. Two olives.'

His fingers scratch into the back of my thighs. My shoulder blades dig into the hard wall. He fills me completely with hard, quick thrusts. Teeth graze my neck and bite into my shoulder. I encourage him with a hand pressed to the back of his head, pushing him harder. My thighs feel good around his waist.

Above me, he places a finger to his mouth and indicates silence. His nail has become a sharpened claw. I'm trembling already. Sex smells heavy in the air, its scent is heady and intoxicating. Very carefully and deliberately he touches the tip of his claw between my breasts and draws a line down my belly. If I move it will cut me. I close my eyes just as his mouth curls in a smirking smile. I make a sound. I can't help it. It feels good. And again, inhaling sharply as blood welts near my navel.

I need a vodka.

All this while I have stared at him.

2009-02-07 19:54:40 Mila rolls 5 dice to App + Subterfuge 6,6,5,5,8 (3 successes)

I keep a straight face. My composure doesn't waver, but now I draw my eyes from him as I stand up slowly from the table.

"Excuse me a moment. I will get your drink." I leave the table and head towards the bar, grateful for the moment of recovery. I don't know what it is about him that makes me think these things, but they are strong and insistent.

I need to find a Shadow Lord. It has been too long.

But I do not want to.

While he may not be able to directly control the thoughts he spawned in Milas head he can catch a glimpse of them on his own. Its like watching a movie in the small preview screen on a large TV. His luck must have stayed with him and Gand smiles openly at what he sees from Mila's subconscious. That really couldnt have gone better...

Gand nods to Mila as she retreats. She will come back, he will make sure. Gand watches her like a possessive lecher from his seat as she retrieves drinks. Its a dirty underhanded game he plays- really no different than chemical coercion. Its just harded to call it date rape. From his coat Gand will produce a silver cigarette case engraved with a tantrically posed, eight armed woman. From the case he will select a cigarette with an orange filter. When lit the cigarette will smell slightly metallic.

They can synthesize anything these days. The mild hallucinagen in the cigarette is artificial toad skins. Like the ones kids lick, when really your supposed to skin and smoke them. These cigarettes are great for altering moods, and with Gands skills he doesnt have to be the only one altered.

2009-02-14 11:07:51 Gand the Great rolls 5 dice to Arete 'Sway Emotion' [Mind: 2, Coincidental +3, Foci: Drugged Cigarette] (Diff 5) 2,9,1,1,8 (failure) [No effect on Mila.]

Of course all the confidence in the world cant save you from screwing up, a momentary distraction of flashing lights and loud bells as someone wins big at a slot machine draws his attention and the effect is ruined...  

--Last edited by Radiation on 2009-02-14 11:12:05 --