8 hours ago
Continued from "Hooked"
When the Auctioneer divulged that Bode could be located at Kallisti, Jaxen's first thought was that she might be Oriena. After all, Oriena had the malice to orchestrate such a scheme. But then again, she was far too indolent to invest this much effort into sabotaging someone, even if that someone was the Emissary. Oriena preferred to either crush her adversaries outright or dismiss them entirely. This level of intricacy suggested a more cunning mind at play. If Jaxen weren't so irked by the wild goose chase, he might have found it intriguing.
He attempted to resume his life, to let this whole fiasco fade into oblivion. Yet, each time he tried, a nagging pressure built at the base of his skull, unbidden memories of Kallisti flooding his thoughts. He hadn't set foot there since meeting Oriena. Sure, Kallisti was entertaining, but it was just one of countless pleasure palaces in Moscow. Lately, the place had garnered a reputation as a bit of a buzzkill. The atmosphere had shifted—more serious, less 'anything goes.' Perhaps it was mere gossip from disgruntled staff or slighted patrons, but Jaxen certainly wasn't avoiding it because of Oriena. Definitely not.
When the night arrived that he could procrastinate no longer, Jaxen dressed for the venue. His pants had a velvety sheen, begging to be pet by expert hands. His shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, revealed the edges of the snake skeleton tattoo winding down his body. A fur coat draped over his shoulders, though it was promptly checked at the door upon his arrival at the Burlesque house. Once divested of the coat, a Hello Kitty sticker adorned his shoulder, brazenly flipping the bird with angry eyes.
At first glance, Kallisti appeared unchanged. The imposing stalinesque façade still commanded attention, its nighttime illumination banishing any lurking shadows. Inside, the lavish interior exuded wicked decadence, a harmonious blend of soft allure and severe elegance that set it apart from seedy strip joints. Not that there was anything wrong with that. The main area, with its extravagant bar and intimate stage, remained a shrine to seduction. Yet, as Jaxen surveyed the room, he noticed unfamiliar faces mingling about.
A hostess guided him to a table, her gloved hand gesturing gracefully. Settling into the plush seat, Jaxen cast his gaze around, the ambient lighting casting playful shadows even as the music lulled him into a state of relaxation. He hoped that 'Bode,' whoever she truly was, would make the next move, but if not, at least he would have some fun.
When the Auctioneer divulged that Bode could be located at Kallisti, Jaxen's first thought was that she might be Oriena. After all, Oriena had the malice to orchestrate such a scheme. But then again, she was far too indolent to invest this much effort into sabotaging someone, even if that someone was the Emissary. Oriena preferred to either crush her adversaries outright or dismiss them entirely. This level of intricacy suggested a more cunning mind at play. If Jaxen weren't so irked by the wild goose chase, he might have found it intriguing.
He attempted to resume his life, to let this whole fiasco fade into oblivion. Yet, each time he tried, a nagging pressure built at the base of his skull, unbidden memories of Kallisti flooding his thoughts. He hadn't set foot there since meeting Oriena. Sure, Kallisti was entertaining, but it was just one of countless pleasure palaces in Moscow. Lately, the place had garnered a reputation as a bit of a buzzkill. The atmosphere had shifted—more serious, less 'anything goes.' Perhaps it was mere gossip from disgruntled staff or slighted patrons, but Jaxen certainly wasn't avoiding it because of Oriena. Definitely not.
When the night arrived that he could procrastinate no longer, Jaxen dressed for the venue. His pants had a velvety sheen, begging to be pet by expert hands. His shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, revealed the edges of the snake skeleton tattoo winding down his body. A fur coat draped over his shoulders, though it was promptly checked at the door upon his arrival at the Burlesque house. Once divested of the coat, a Hello Kitty sticker adorned his shoulder, brazenly flipping the bird with angry eyes.
At first glance, Kallisti appeared unchanged. The imposing stalinesque façade still commanded attention, its nighttime illumination banishing any lurking shadows. Inside, the lavish interior exuded wicked decadence, a harmonious blend of soft allure and severe elegance that set it apart from seedy strip joints. Not that there was anything wrong with that. The main area, with its extravagant bar and intimate stage, remained a shrine to seduction. Yet, as Jaxen surveyed the room, he noticed unfamiliar faces mingling about.
A hostess guided him to a table, her gloved hand gesturing gracefully. Settling into the plush seat, Jaxen cast his gaze around, the ambient lighting casting playful shadows even as the music lulled him into a state of relaxation. He hoped that 'Bode,' whoever she truly was, would make the next move, but if not, at least he would have some fun.