PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
First, she had woken to the most awful smell, discovering that Ariana had all but emptied her stomach on the bedspread with what appeared to be actual paint. After this had been cleaned up by Florence, her house passive, the galdor had returned to her studio to continue the piece she had been working on all week. A beautiful portrait of a young man and his banderpup, only she had entered to find the canvas scratched through. It appeared that her dear osta had taken it upon herself to use the canvas as a hop-up to the curtain railing overnight, and in turn her claws had gouged streaks into the youth’s oil painted face. Of course she could fix it, but feeling flustered and annoyed, the young woman had gathered her things and decided she would take a winter stroll by the Avora River. But noooo, nothing could be that easy. Upon getting to the river, Khymarah took a few steps, and proceeded to slip in the black ice by the bank, gasping with shock as she slid down the muddied side and into the waters edge. Cold and muddy, the Bastian had trudged her way back home to change her outfit, by this time it just wasn’t worth the effort.
An afternoon at the library, that’s what she could do. Dressed in her black winter cloak and a red beaded lace winter dress, the young artist made her way towards the Vienda Public Library. Only, she hadn’t bothered to check the time, and as she crossed Uptown Court she could see the phosphor lanterns beginning to dim. Grasping her skirt in her hands, she sprinted in burgundy boots across the cobblestones and well…
And here she was.
“Bells and chimes!” She snapped, stomping her foot and closing her eyes to take a few deep breaths, her ramscott field pulsing with frustration.
Even if you had made it through the doors in time, what did you think you were going to achieve. Call it a day and go back to bed Khy..
Walking back down the steps, her scarlet curls loose around her face, the Bastian wandered aimlessly for a moment before stopping. What exactly did she have to go home to? An unwell osta, a ruined portrait and a very empty home?
Well when you put it like that…
Lifting her emerald-sapphire gaze, the straight laced young woman’s eyes fell on a sign post that held a curious pointer in the direction of Crosstown Court. It was a catlike beast of somekind, snarling and holding its paw to point the passerby to something enticing further ahead. Following the mystery sign-cat’s directions, Khymarah walked along the street lined with evergreen bushes in quaint pots and delightfully pleasant shopfronts. Delightfully shut shopfronts.
“At least in Bastia the shops are open till at least the twenty seventh hour.” She snidely remarked to not a soul, looking down her nose at the closed storefronts, as thought they could hear her snarky words. Slowing towards the end of the quiet, quaint street, she discovered a side ally with the tiger painted now on the brick work wall. Letting herself wander a bit further, the red head discovered an very plain looking doorway, and hanging over it was a sign lettered in a rough hewn handwriting.
The Paper Tiger.
Frowning, the scarlet galdor pushed the door open and stepped inside, her eyes widening in surprise. The interior of the establishment appeared to be a bar or some sort of upper class tavern. The inside was made of cherry wood and rich mahogany, giving off a warm sense of cosy welcome for the right people. Stained glass windows and phosphor lamps filled the room with warm, golden light, illuminating luxurious armchairs and ottomans, polished coffee tables and a long marble-top bar, complete with plush red barstools. Behind the bar, a cabinet full of delicate crystal classes, bottles of bourbon and rum and whiskey, and all sorts of mixing equipment just waited for the patrons to approach and order a beverage. A soft lifting instrumental number is emanated from a phonograph on one end of the bar, and the air smelt pleasantly of tobacco and cologne.
“Well then. When in Anaxas I suppose…” The woman said to herself quietly, removing her cloak which was prompted taken from her by a tall thin steward. Nodding, the young woman made her way self consciously to the bar, sliding onto one of the plush red stools and looking over the overwhelming selection in the cabinet. A handsome galdor with deep black hair and a thin moustache moved towards her from behind the bartop, smiling a welcome and gesturing to the beverages.
“Would madame care for a drink?” Khymarah blushed ridiculously, glancing down and shaking her head.
“Oh, no I don’t know. I just came in by accident. I probably shouldn’t.” The keep scoffed, reaching for a bottle of first light.
“Nonsense. Archibald knows what a lovely lady like yourself needs. How about a small glass of First Light? It’s very floral and light, as not to upset such a delicate little woman.” The whiskey tycoons daughter lifted her eyes slowly, narrowing her eyes for a moment. Delicate little woman? Sure, she was not the most boisterous galdori out there, but the red head did not need to be spoken down to by a man clearly more into himself than anything else.
“You know what, I will have a drink, but get me a double of Rodriguez Fireball whisky. Straight.” Archibald raised an eyebrow, placing the First Light back on the shelf and grabbing a highball crystal glass.
“That’s a bit strong my dear, are you sure that’s best?” Khymarah balked, blinking in surprise, her cheeks darkening a little more. He clearly didnt take her seriously, Alioe she wasn’t even sure she took herself seriously. Tired and a little too done with the day, the young woman began to doubt herself. Maybe she should just go, this was getting embarrassing.
“I…well I…”