01-18-2019, 09:42 PM
Russo Baltique.
A series of pretty little blinks fluttered his eyes as soon as he heard the words. Within moments, Jaxen hovered near, stealthy fingers accustomed to slipping into pockets unseen snatching away the coveted bottle. He held it to the level of his eyes in fond admiration.
"This is a two million dollar bottle." A wry little grin snuck to his lips and moments later, the bottle's majesty was uncorked.
It'd been months since the glacial purity of Russo Baltique crossed his lips. Life hadn't been the same without it.
For a few moments, Jaxen contentedly busied himself with weaves coiling their tentacles around Baccarat crystal glasswares, chilling them to perfect temperature. Meanwhile, the skull molds were refrozen by the same power, their contents delivered to their new domains. The vodka spilled over the top in what some would say was sacrilegious dilution, to all but the most pureblooded Russians. Despite the creativity with which the ancient power crafted the perfect drink, he took some pride in attending to the limes himself. The aroma tinted his fingertips most satisfactorily.
When he turned back, the ancient power offered his guest a pass at her own drink. Thus he sat, legs crossed in a velvet-cushioned chair of deep plum, and savored the succulent spirit.
Only then did he raise the glass and toast, "What isn't special about Jaxen Marveet?" His grin answered the rhetorical as he invited her to join. "What's your name?"
A series of pretty little blinks fluttered his eyes as soon as he heard the words. Within moments, Jaxen hovered near, stealthy fingers accustomed to slipping into pockets unseen snatching away the coveted bottle. He held it to the level of his eyes in fond admiration.
"This is a two million dollar bottle." A wry little grin snuck to his lips and moments later, the bottle's majesty was uncorked.
It'd been months since the glacial purity of Russo Baltique crossed his lips. Life hadn't been the same without it.
For a few moments, Jaxen contentedly busied himself with weaves coiling their tentacles around Baccarat crystal glasswares, chilling them to perfect temperature. Meanwhile, the skull molds were refrozen by the same power, their contents delivered to their new domains. The vodka spilled over the top in what some would say was sacrilegious dilution, to all but the most pureblooded Russians. Despite the creativity with which the ancient power crafted the perfect drink, he took some pride in attending to the limes himself. The aroma tinted his fingertips most satisfactorily.
When he turned back, the ancient power offered his guest a pass at her own drink. Thus he sat, legs crossed in a velvet-cushioned chair of deep plum, and savored the succulent spirit.
Only then did he raise the glass and toast, "What isn't special about Jaxen Marveet?" His grin answered the rhetorical as he invited her to join. "What's your name?"