The Night After the March Elysium

[Valentina Audley]

Inside the shop, it's brightly lit and the two occupants are attending to the evening's business.

Valentina is seated at a small desk in the consultation room, gone is last night's finery and in it's place she's garbed in a modest cotton print day dress which has apron tied over the top. Both dress and apron are well made and prettily embroidered, but both also show far more utility than her navy blue satin frock. That said, the red choker is fastened round her neck and she runs her fingers over the cameo absentmindedly every once in a while as she works.

She's making notes and sketches on various loose bits of paper. She frowns over the drawings, considering carefully before adding the odd line and nodding in satisfaction. Meanwhile a petite brunette girl dressed in a similar cotton dress and apron whisks in and out of the work room, bringing scraps of fabric in rainbow hues for her mistresses approval. Some are kept and placed next to sketches, but most are discarded with pursed lips and a small shake of the head. Little is said, but the silence is comfortable, a scene familiar for both participants.

At last Valentina throws up her hands in disgust. "It's no good Helen. I can't possibly decide until I know the hair colour and complexion."

Helen bobs a curtsey. "Yes Miss Valentina. Shall I fetch your embroidery or will you review the new fashion plates?"

"My embroidery please darling, I can mull it over as I sew. Once you've bought it to me, could you look out the new fabric selection for the window please? I think we should put some of the new parisian lace out."

Helen bobs again and heads off on her errands as Valentina tidies papers into a neat pile.

[George Williamson]

The gas lamps had been burning a while before a presently dressed gentleman walked up the street. He was probably on the 'too well dressed' side of fashion, specially for shopping. Most would have assumed he was marching off to an important engagement, if there were many around.

However it was not George Williamson they would have seen. In the gas light gloom the gentleman had no distingishing features, probably in his prime and doing well. After ensuring no one was obviously staring at him, easily done subtly for someone who's used to be on the streets, when he turned in the door his features changed by a slight amount. Still rather undistinguished but most certainly George, maybe what he looked like before his embrace.

It was certainly a nice shop, George gave a look around and admired whatever pleasantries had been placed to promote expectations of the best. He gave a present smile to the shop keeper, "Good evening, could you tell Miss Audley that Mr Williamson is here. She is expecting a collection."

[Valentina Audley]

Helen bobs her customary curtsey, murmurs 'Yes sir, please won't you have a seat whilst you wait?' waves him onto the sofa and whisks away at speed.

In the other room Helen delivers the message and Valentina quirks an eyebrow in surprise. "Mr Williamson you say? Well Viktor did say he'd send someone... Very well, be ready to bring drinks if I call for it."

She stands, takes her apron off and hangs it neatly over the back of the chair before picking up a cream sealed envelope, tucking it into her pocket and heading into the main shop.

Seeing George dressed so nicely she smiles and holds her hand out to him.

"Good evening Mr Williamson. How charming to see you again. I understand you are here for a collection?"

[George Williamson]

George takes a seat and relaxes in the sofa. Seating South of the river really can't compare. Of course when Ms Audley enters he promptly stands to greet her. He does not seem tired or put out by having to make the trip north, in fact he seems very happy to have to come to the seamstress.

With a generous smile, "good evening Miss Audley, it is a great pleasure" said in tones fitting of his northern guise, shaking the hand, "yes, of instructions, but I must say your boutique is quite beautiful. Truly fitting."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina preens a little. "How kind of you to say so Mr Williamson. A humble establishment compared to those in London or Paris but people are kind enough to bring repeat custom my way. Do you have other engagements to call you away or may I offer you some refreshment?"

Helen is lurking in the doorway, ready to fetch anything needed.

[George Williamson]

"Refreshements wouldbe lovely. I haven't been to the streets of London myself, what are they like?"

Plesantries was a strong suit of George. If you have no idea what to say, say something nice, then ask them about their answer.

[Valentina Audley]

"Do you prefer your Earl Grey or Darjeeling tea?" The question is posed as from a polite hostess. Only the slightest twitch of her lips gives away the fact she's pretty certain he won't be drinking it.

She seats herself gracefully on the sofa fussing with her skirts to disguise the fact she needs a moment to come up with an answer. She'd not been to London often, mostly with her sire and a long time ago. Gesturing for him to retake his seat she says

"They are much the same as the streets of Aquae Sulis, though bigger and more populated. The shops though... Such stores with such wondrous things for sale." There's a wistful tone to her voice as she remembers the fabric shops and work she'd admired there.

[George Williamson]

George had only recently learnt that tea can have different names and tastes. Like a good Englishman would do if they did not know what what kind of tea was being offer, "Earl Grey, if you would be so kind," was accepted as the go to choice.

He sat down and waited patiently for the answer, not seeing through the facade, and nodded along politely. "Does it have similar separations between the greater and the lesser," there's wonderously no sound of sarcasm or bitterness to the phrase," as does Aquae Sulis? The great streets of Bristol are interlaced with darkened alleys, much unlike this city."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina nods to Helen and the girl disappears out of the doorway.

A memory of Andrew wrinkling his nose and refusing to step off the main street flashes in to Valentina's head. She'd missed some of the fabric markets due to her sire's disdain.

"I'm afraid I really couldn't say. We kept mostly to Oxford Street last time I visited."

She shrugs, a careless movement of her shoulders. "I recollect seeing a few smaller streets but they did not hold much appeal, so we did not explore."

"Were you in Bristol long?" A curious question, because George with his apparent yearning to better himself in looks piqued her interest. And of course, all knowledge is worth acquiring because you never know when it might become worth something.

[George Williamson]

The sense of freedom that wafted over George as the soft steps left their presence was relieving. Mixing Kindred and Kine was something George disliked; he'd let to figure out a good way to test a Kine's involvment.

His smile peaked with her shrug, enjoying the difference in atomsphere compared to the night previous. A great difference from social swords en garde.

"Not long," he guestured vaguly with his hand, "20 years or so." Since he existed by Camarilla standards at least. "Long enough to see the town and to go acustomed to the people, but then Aquae Sulis appeared. Like a moth to a flame," the choice words are not lost on George, "here I am."

He tapped on his armchair, "Speaking of Bristol, how is Lady Dyonasia faring?"