Juliette Coulombe (clearyourmind) wrote in emillion, |
The city was churning, shaking, thick with darkness; it was a violent universe almost void of form, no less vicious beneath the shroud of night. It surprised no one that Madame Saint Laurent had an emergency plan in place. Even if it had, there were too many things to shock that day to take time to wonder at how the brothel had turned so quickly into a fortress. The change was so thorough and so swift, it seemed suddenly as though Lena’s domain had been a warlike stronghold all along, and all its coy sensitivity merely a velvet glove over an iron fist. When the attack began in earnest, and the groaning of splintered palings was echoing down every avenue in Emillion, the men and women employed at the Ruby wasted no time. Patrons were herded to the bar, and a host of dancers and musicians upended the round cabaret tables and rolled them toward the street side entrance to be repurposed as barriers, industrious ants in a file. Metal caging descended across the doors from the outside; a bartendress was installed in the vestibule to keep watch and to open a private door in the stone to admit any wayward friends. Lights inside were extinguished save for small groupings of candles, and after the initial flurry of chaos and activity, everyone in the brothel’s various chambers had dropped their voices to a whisper, acting as if on some silent, collective cue. Appropriately enough, Lena was standing on the darkened stage, surveying the small groupings of light across the floor as a general might watch over the campfires of their army, settling in for the night. Shadowy figures darted to and fro, kneeling next to the bedrolls of injured fighters and civilians, conducting as much healing as the setting allowed. As she descended the stairs, tying back her hair, Lena caught sight of one of the smaller healers, recognizing her as one of the lost souls Ash had deposited on the Ruby’s doorstep some hours prior. Juliette had fallen into a pattern with one of the mages who had found his way here. He handled critical injuries, set bones, and then moved on to the next case needing a professional’s attention. She followed behind him with bandages and her Cure spell, trying to soothe the pain. Not the sort of work another might have expected, perhaps, as Fighters’ Guild, but it needed to be done, and she was capable. To her, that was reason enough. Still, as she sat back on her heels and wiped sweat from her brow with one hand, she had to admit she was ill-suited to this. Juliette looked up at the woman who had paused near her, presenting an image of just a tired, frazzled-looking girl with hair long since made untidy and circles around her eyes. As for the woman, she looked… Well, not like a fighter. Like she belonged here? Perhaps. Juliette was trying not to think too hard of where here was. “I’m sorry,” she said, then had to clear her throat. “Would you happen to know where I might get some water?” She was hungry, too, but didn’t dare ask; no doubt others had greater need, as healing tended to make one ravenous. |