Château de Trimorphe

[soulbrand]

OUTDOORS*
Each consecutive layer tells a new story; a new flood, a new type architectural movement. From the tell tale signs of imported bricks, to the evidence of other cultures affecting the very shape of newest additions, the walls speak volumes of the sheer impact the building has had both on itself and on the surroundings. Like those who visit regularly, and a few even live, its existence is anything but camouflaged. Yet how the other buildings adapt to it can be attributed to its unique purpose. Although the paint has run, and the bricks are beginning to deteriorate, its bottle green window coverings and what was once vibrant crimson whose pigment came from lands now long lost seem to add to the homeliness for those which devote their lives for passions more important than the material.

INDOORS
Innards are equally as dilapidated, the rooms tend to smell of a faint mold, the insides of the western windows are tinted a green from the moss that has grown, yet it doesn’t stop the occupations from calling it home.

It stands well, three high with a single floor tucked beneath the establishment, used primary for storage or the holding of things they would rather not have out in the open. It is generally unassuming and seems typical, entranced paves way to a bar top that hugs a wall, a plethora of tables and cheers rest atop a groaning floor, before a winding staircase takes those to the many floors. Most of the space above the main hall is used for bedrooms, or otherwise storing while the topmost floor is used as a library containing both books they (Club Hecate) have wrote and those they have found of a great interest.

[Rajasi]

Rain. Fuck, she hated it when she rained. Especially when she was getting ready to leave. Hopefully he’d take just a bit longer in doing whatever he does, and the rain would stop. But that would be asking fate far too much. So, she just stood in front of the square window, gazing out of the light green glass with water blurring what she might have possibly seen. She was clearly vexed with the state of weather, let alone at her slave mas-- err, liason (?) sending her on another lovely vacation. And by vacation, more like a business meeting. With God knows who this time.

With the pit pat being too much, she flopped into a chair. Wooden, probably fragile, it didn’t matter- she carelessly threw herself into it whilst she waited. And by God, the fates were being courteous as the chair didn’t break! One might mistake her as being impatient, but rather she was hoping that it would be obvious she was wanting all the time in the world to just slow. Just this once. Any other time, she’d be damned if she wasn’t already damned.

Fucking rain.

[soulbrand]

A crowd strewn with the drunk and promiscuous, as well as the wet and tired, had caught with a smile the attention of a man as did his best to saunter about the populace keeping peace where the silver lashing of tongues had turned into showings of a physical nature. It was the aged features of his façade, the crow’s feet that hung upon smiled wrinkles. To his attention, a girl, wet and visibly annoyed as she slammed herself into a chair that let out with a loud groaning protest, smiling as he adjusted his dirtied vest be would press on.

“Why, hello there young lady, welcome to Château de Trimorphe. May I get you anything to drink or perhaps to eat?” It was a simple gesture, courteous to her arrive and attempt to counter the terrible weather conditions with a bit of joy; however fleeting or not as the man took a second, allowing a dancing couple to pass before he took refuge upon a chair adjacent. “I would have expected a new guest of Marat to have some luggage, perhaps it is on its way? Or perhaps you are unsure of your stay here?” Another pause for reasons similar, the people here were likely more than unaware of the nature of the place in the upper and lower levels, a point that kept business here as alive as ever.

Yet it was the unassuming and average man, albeit his age compared to the majority here, that had took special note and care of the people who came and went; it was also of special notice was his knowledge on those who should be arriving, perhaps he was perceptive or maybe he had another power to thank to his insight? Perhaps.

[Rajasi]

Turning her head from her hands that she had been preoccupying herself with until his approach to the man who addressed her then, she simply shook her head in response to nearly everything he asked. No food, no luggage besides a simple brown bag containing two pairs of clothes pretty much exactly the same as what she wore; she didn't need much besides clothing, a writing utensil and some stationary for her to take notes on. If she could, she'd leave the clothes behind, but well, that might cause quite the ruckus. She already ate, she wasn't thirsty. And, well, she was pretty certain that she belonged here, generally speaking anyway. She wasn't really one to partake in such activities. She already had the knowledge of what it was like so there was no need to further explore. It was all base knowledge. She craved more than such a simplistic lifestyle.

"I only have this bag," she gestured to a brown bag that lay at her feet, "It contains all I need. Anything else, I figure out another way. Keeps life," she paused, "interesting." She picked up on the man's ability to understand that her business here wasn't of the same market as the rest of them. Curious, of course. She wouldn't be too bothered with it, however; he had his methods and at this point, she wouldn't figure it out. What she did want to know, however, is what she was going to be doing, let alone who this character was. She recalled her brother mentioning this place ever so briefly, but not much more than a brief blip in time that played out insignificantly in the grand scheme of things as he never made it to the point. But she figured, this was the last place that she had left before she saw no other route.

"So, is he about ready? Or," with a shrug and a small tilt of her head, "am I to wait just a tad longer?" Two choices, both presenting a conflict: get this over with fairly quickly or get dry before getting wet once more. Hm, the predicament was a losing one for her: no matter what, she feared her red overcoat would be made darker due to the moisture. Her curiosity was getting the best of her, however, so she ultimately preferred choice a.

[soulbrand]

A pout, the man examined with a transitory glance the single bag the rain soaked girl presented, his head nodding twice, before his gaze became focused on her again. “I shall go about seeing where he is in terms of commencing this meeting; however, I will guide you to your room beforehand. It would do you well to get out of the wet and cold, before you succumb to an illness.”

It was shortly after he spoke, would he stand, his eyes drifting towards the rickety staircase that spun upward; it was all the sign he would give her before departing the table and starting a leisurely quest for the second floor. As broken as the first floor the second was distinctive in its own right, water spots tainted the corners of the ceiling and along doorframes, a melody bellowed from the double doors that rested at the center and directly down the hallway, the office of Marat.

Seven doors to his left, seven to his right he would twist and stop to face the left side on the eighth door, a twist of the knob and it would groan inward. A table, two chairs, a bed and a desk were the impersonal innards, customary for everyone however more than allowed to spice it up at their own cost. Tucked and off to the left was a set of doors, the first was a personal bathroom, the other was a closet with ample space.

“When you have changed over, please return to the hallway, I will be waiting and from there we can head to Marat’s office and you may begin the meeting.” A smile, faint and soft as he found those hands adjusting his vest, special care seemed to be paid to this particular piece of attire. Turning sharply he would head towards the hallway, pausing only when he realized how rude he had been, “Forgive me, my name is Claude and I shall be your attendant during your stay here. Summon me, should something not be up to your par or, if you have questions.” Time was left in the chance she shared his introductions. Otherwise, he would slip into the hallway with a subtle click of the door as it shut behind him.

[Rajasi]

She looked to the stairwell, contemplating how possible it was for it to collapse. Final thought: Likely. But, not likely enough for her to refuse going up it. It might, after all, increase her understanding of the physical world. So, curiosity over rode the thought of injury.

"It might be a wise thing to do, yes," she spoke, an acquiescence to his comment about keeping warm and dry so that she wouldn't catch a cold. She leaned over and picked the bag up and situated it over her shoulders. She followed a few feet behind him, an occasional detour to the side as to dodge any drunkard that stumbled in her general direction. Best to keep them dry too.

“Talyn,” she responded in kind, offering her name so that he may have something to refer to her as, “I won’t be long. Five minutes maximum.” It was with that, she closed the door and changed her clothing. Nothing to report on, as besides maybe a different cut in the shirt, it was still the basic wardrobe she had been wearing. The coat, she carefully draped over the back of a chair and the bag sat in that same chair. Hopefully, nothing would be needed from it in a meeting. If not, she would claim having not been notified. Hands quickly ran over the wood of the desk; for her, not even a bed mattered as much as somewhere she could write, study and read. The window it faced was a hazy green from probably have never been cleaned and although she could not really see over it, it had its own character and cast a light that for the time she would come to spend here, it would no doubt provide its own sort of comfort.

Yet, she wasn’t in her room to become acquainted with the vintage charm. With such thoughts, she reappeared out into the hallway.

[soulbrand]

A pace set and kept, maintained and courted as Claude addressed with a solemn gaze the broken state of the hallway, as it bowed and bent and wept, narrowing almost to a point before the office doors of Marat. It was a groan that broke his concentration, twisting both his head and his frame back towards Talyn; with a smile he would bow his head.

“I kept my distance, a quarrelsome series of screams and cusses escaped only moments ago.” Claude would remark, his smile slowly succumbing to distance, before waving his arm outwards towards the hallway, towards the source of the low tune that escaped from beneath the door’s chipped and worn edge. Tranquil enough in the gentle plucks of a stringed instrument, it did well to set the mood and shift the woodwork of the establishment, or rather the water stained hallway at the very least.

Knuckles whitened and stiffened would knock, twice, before a voice raspy from screaming far too much responded and invited in, the duo. Both doors groaned as they swung inward, the double doors spilled into the heart of Marat. Paintings were scattered, some hung awkwardly while others just carelessly had been tossed over chairs, desks and a piano that was thick with the dust of time. From behind a stack of unmarked, archaic literature the ashen gaze of Marat would peer, a smile held firmly the twisted excuse for a cigarette that hung.

As he stood the portion that had been burnt to a lengthy ash, dropped without notice upon the pages of an open book, adjusting his hat, he would offer Claude a dismissive wave and once the doors cried their final song, he would turn his attention towards Talyn. Marat didn’t talk, merely observed.

[Rajasi]

Destitute. Curious. Filthy. Over all, the scene would by any standards be pretty unnerving. Where were the cobwebs? Talyn simply met the eyes of Marat. She wasn’t going to observe currently, she’d wait until later (or sooner if the invitation was extended and a place to sit actually existed). In the mean time, she would stand in front of the closed doors awaiting an invitation to sit down. To be polite, in other words. Afterall, she wasn’t the boss and therefore, she wouldn’t make the first introduction. Introductions were started by those who were in charge.

For a brief moment, she began to wonder whether or not if he had ever known her brother. It would seem that this joint was pretty exclusive and hush hush, but that was just her observation. If it were true, what would have leaded him to know about this place and desire to eventually arrive?

Marat, oh Marat, your name was legend on my brother’s tongue, yet the man himself seems below such greatness. However, Talyn wondered to herself, it would seem that the general type of person who seeks knowledge does not seek to put up a façade. Façade, a fake overlay on the structure in the building. No doubt, there was no opulence here, except in knowledge. For Talyn, however, that was the greatest wealth of all and despite not having much material possessions, she was perhaps one of the top 5%. Who knew, she didn't. Perhaps her travels would bring her evidence to support such a hypothesis (one made out of practice, not arrogance) so that it may indeed, be a theory, perhaps even a law one day.

And perhaps, he would notice that.

[soulbrand]

A chalice unseen had been lifted, twisted was his palm as fingers coiled about the brim of his hat, plucking it from his head he would smile; the gates within were beaten, twisted and crooked. It happened with the flick of a wrist, his fedora lifting heavenward before plummeting to land softly and to the left on the head of Talyn. “Oi, nice catch, now please take a seat I would like to not waste both our times, and perhaps we can have out on an easy task before the sun feels the need to settle.”

An arm waved towards the chair that sat just before the desk, twisting, he would tuck hands into the depths of his pockets before burying himself once more behind stacks of paperwork that with a single swipe of his hand would cascade into to a clumsy mess about the floor, legs crossed at the ankle and landed where the documents had once been, cigarette finally withdrawn as he would merely ash on a windowsill closest to him, a breeze would eventually take it away, but that was of little concern to him.

“I would like to assume you know of our nature, our clients and the way we work here?” It was with an austere glance now would he peer towards the female, a lesser man would have ignored her features, her face, the softness—but lucky for her, Marat was not a lesser man. Continuing on, however, “What I have for you is likely simple, a rudimentary task that I could very well do myself, but, I fear my legs have stricken with a light pain, a run in with the Jakes down the road for a business that exists outside of this one.” A sigh, he craned his head over his shoulder, the window met his gaze with a glare, “But that isn’t details I would bore you with.”

Kicking his legs from the desk, he would land firm and stand up, moving to the stack of paper he flipped through folders and thumbed stacks of paperwork until his prize had been won; yanking it upward he would snap a finger upon it. “We have an associate, so to speak, a man with the teeth of dog, a vile creature of sorts, he has a skull for me, it is of little importance—well, not little per say—but we need it, and I need you to go meet him and bring it back to me.” It was the paper he would hand out to her, details and location of the man were placed there within, and he would speak only once more.

“I would suggest you bring someone with you, in the event things turn dirty, either Claude or another from the bar would suffice, just be warned, the man you are going to meet isn’t likely to be the kindest of people.” And so, Marat would continue to smoke, the nearly killed cigarette.

[Rajasi]

Her hand went to the hat, gently lifting it off her head. Not an ounce of frustration showed on her face and she didn’t even move to straighten the hair that had been shifted due to impact and also from removing it from her head. She held it in front of her in both hands as she walked forward to the chair and took her seat. Steps were slow and deliberate: she was clearly not bothered by the issue of the sun setting prior.


“Or perhaps it was the aim.” She watched him stretch out his arm to ash on the windowsill, counting the flicks absently to see how many it took. Such information was pointless but nonetheless, it was information. She listened as he explained the cause for him not going himself and the task, her eyes focusing on his face with such passive attentiveness that any grade school teacher would think she weren’t listening. But, in truth, she was analyzing and her suspicions were rising.


“So, tell me, what is the name of this man with canine teeth,” she paused, a casual glance to the side, “He sounds like, erm, a marquis?” Marquis was said tentatively, as if she were ever so slightly unsure of the title. Eyes flicked to the left in contemplation and she leaned back, a finger tapping her chin. But, let it not be mistaken: it was not a fault in confidence for the information she knew, but rather a searching of possible alternatives that may fit the description Marat had given.


“No, no, I think I know who you are referencing. So why a skull? And, since I know no one around here, why don’t you pick someone else to go with me?” It would seem she had already settled on such an answer from him that she had not received, and that despite not knowing him apart from his name, she had no hesitations in questioning him. But perhaps questioning wasn’t the right word for that held implications of challenging him.

[soulbrand]

A brow arched high, not to the flirtatious atmosphere as a man such as Marat had grown accustom to swooning, it was instead to the perceptive nature of the girl; without details it seemed that she had a firm grasp on at least the man she would be going to see. Undecided for now was Marat on if it was a dangerous sort of perception or if she—like him—had merely been a student of the occult.

“I am not sure of his name or his echelon, details such as that have been kept from me as I have kept mine from him, the last thing a man such as myself needs are those of his nature to be keen on the particulars.” A lie, in part, he had known of the man’s name and the man’s ranking in the Circle he maintained, it was his own life that was truly kept hidden. It was a moment of silence as he sought out a book of matches; the cigarette that hung absently had died. A spark and an ember as the cherry once more burnt with life, he would then offer her a slight shrug.

“The skull holds still a silver tongue, one that would dare to whisper locations and secrets, both of which are of an importance to me and so we need the skull so that we may find both and use them to our benefit.” A finger drummed now upon the edge of his desk in an attempt to keep the pace of his voice under the control, a habit of his from a demon that lurked within his veins.

“I am sure the only people you have met thus far are Claude and I and he would know a companion better suited for your travels than I would, inquire from him on your way out.” Standing he would flick the butt into the mess of his room, uncaring as of now to the filth before once more, allowing his stare to claim her, her face and features recalled him of serenity and to this, he smiled.

[Rajasi]

The flame lit up her amber eyes as she stared at it, watching the moment of chaos in a world of nothing but order, as disorganized as it may be. Her lips pursed in contemplation and it was obvious she was lost in the moment… one that would dare to whisper locations and secrets... she had blocked out the remainder of the sentence and her eyebrow lifted as her eyes moved back to his.

“Oh, no doubt of use.” Perhaps it was his turn to be as perceptive and picking up the subtle clues that a small plot was being etched on her mind’s canvas. A small smile played upon the right corner of her lips and the mischievous glint in her eye most certainly made her an open book. Scholars were like that; their studies made it near impossible for them to lie about their intentions when they were so intent on finding truth.

“But, if you’re not sure of his name or his title, why are you aware that he has this skull? Knowing this would require some form of contact, direct or indirect.” It was a rhetorical question, one she wasn’t really seeking an answer to. Her tone was that of a mild inquiry; in truth, she could only even begin to care how this logic was possible.

“Hm, I wonder how he came across it,” she contemplated out loud, “And when do you want it by? At least that won’t be an enigma." Her comment about the mystery was quite sarcastic; she glanced down at the paper to he handed to her and read it in a quick flurry of comprehension. Looking back up, she saw his grin and in the quickest of moments it was returned. However, he would have to truly be watching her to catch the small twitch of the corners of her lips moving up before it disappeared.

[soulbrand]

It was smile as fleeting as the thought of her perception, perhaps her insight had only been a lucky guess, a trembled thought that had accidently spilled into something beautiful. Oh, to guess so luckily with the first flick of your tongue.

To this thought he would frown, before offering only a simple shrug and while the question was merely rhetorical, he’d groom his roost and begin. “A boastful cock, he has been kind enough to bark such treasures of mine to me, and so I would find it well to answer, to tug on his chain if even only for a moment.” For only a moment, akin would his gaze be entertained by her—twisting his chest to face and heave towards the light that parted tattered sheets hung.

“I have no time limit on anything I ask of my employees, however, the longer it takes for you to complete the task the greater the chance of my secrets being spilled, so I should hope you’d move with haste; if they are able to spill from his mouth due to a casual pace in your gait—I will have no further use for you.” And so his hands began to pat about his body, before he would be forced to reject the light and seek the depths of his desk, a fresh pack of cigarettes lifted would clap upon his palm, thunderous as he packed in the tobacco before finally opening the pack.

“If there is nothing more, then please depart and begin, I have other endeavors that are of a slight importance. I would hate to prolong them over smiles and procrastination.” It was sparked with a simple thumb gesture as the cigarette escaped a single plume as the man, Marat, sat once more.

[Rajasi]

“Boastful, yet you don’t even know his name, let alone his rank? Why, I thought you were smarter than that; perhaps my lead towards you was entirely wrong. For a Marquis, no doubt of his type, one would think he’d be proud of that fact, too. Let alone, that he has something of yours that could be detrimental to your interests. He probably feels as if you’re the boastful cock. But, perhaps not.” Oh she knew his lie alright; too bad his perception didn’t pick up on it. Maybe he’d pick up on her goading. Her lead, i.e., her brother, of course, was certainly not wrong, and she knew that for someone in this canine-toothed friend’s position, that such taunts would above all reveal such knowledge even if he had no prior knowledge.

“And all this talk of secrets,” she started, “whet my appetite for figuring them out, Marat." She left her statement simple. Her perception wasn't the dangerous aspect, it was her curiosity and her gluttony for knowledge of any sort. She was such a glutton, in fact, that even mentioning the possession of secrets set her curiosity aflame. And, she, herself, was not sure at what point she would stop trying to figure something out. Whatever her brother was looking for, he had died looking for. Perhaps, she was the same.

Standing up, she bid adieu with a simple wave of her hand. Talyn said no more and took her leave. It would be a few more minutes before she sought Claude out, as she had to make a short stop in her room to sort through her entire life. She left letters from her brother on her desk, which possessed frayed edges to indicate their age, various documents she had found that she hadn't quite cracked (though her notes all around them would indicate such) and a few oddities that were no doubt hand made, and clearly only held meaning for Talyn. With that, her coat was put on and she slung her brown bag around her shoulder. Proceeding down the stairs, she sought Claude out and upon finding him, approached him.

"He wants you to accompany me."

[soulbrand]

It was, with a sigh had the first meeting between Marat and Talyn concluded, her quips and bias towards the destructive would be well met with a smile; it was the man who cared little. An ensign question had not been refuted and so, while it was question and twisted—she would only see him smile as in passing a child shuffled into the room, young Charlotte who closed the doors with a thick groan.

From the groaning call of the stairwell, Claude would be alerted to the conclusion above, with a smile he stood from the ruffled chair he had called home, a gaze focused watched and counted (albeit absently) the steps from her to him. “Oh?” A cough of disbelief, as Claude appeared more owl than man, his head twisting to angles unthought-of to man; searching the crowd for a familiar face. “I shall find another then, to join us for I am not the fighter I might have been before, yet, I would be a proper guide into the realms like sought out by our Master.”

An honorific not shared by the rest of Club Hecate no, the bond between that of Claude and Marat was defined by ages of work, and the aged man in the nice vest had given time and family in the service of Marat. “Isidore.” A name that bore no meaning to the girl, as Claude stood and waved her to follow; they would depart the establishment and twist to an adjacent alleyway, a man stood. In design he remained similar to Marat, his mane of a rich of golden hue and those eyes that peered where not lost to ash, instead, it was the gaze of the ocean as he gave a light nod to Claude.

“Claude.” “Isidore.” Pleasantries between kin had been brief; an arm waved in the general direction of the unfamiliar face before the vested man spoke. “Talyn, this is Isidore, Isidore this is Talyn she is the newest member to join our rather exclusive Club.”

“Ah, well welcome and salutations.” Polite enough as two weapons, handguns, were tucked into hip placed holsters that caused the belt that held them to sag, heavy they were tools designed simply for causing harm. It was without even asking to what end, he merely knew they had come to him and that was enough, “Shall we?”