#astaria : convo

[infernusvacua]

@ open : astaria + ? (post event)

It had been a quiet evening, the first she’d had in a very long time. Most of her clients were off at that loathsome party the fallen angels were throwing. Once upon a time, Astaria would have been first in line for such an event, dressed to the nines with a fallen angel of her own on her arm, ready for whatever debaucheries were on the menu for the evening. But that life was long gone, and since the angel in question was no doubt attending the party, Astaria had ardently avoided it like the plague. She had different ideas of fun that did not require putting her kinks on display for everyone and their grandmother to see. Well... alright, voyeurism was one of her kinks, but she wasn’t about to display it where Lysander might be able to see it.

So when the frantic texts began flooding her phone, the madame was comfortably ensconced at home in The Black Dahlia, sipping on a glass of finely aged poet fresh from the source, with her beloved Arsène draped over her shoulders. She didn’t want to look up from her re-read of Le Rouge et le Noir, but the texts kept coming, followed by phone calls that would not stop no matter that she kept sending them to voicemail. With a haughty sigh, Astaria finally unlocked her phone and began perusing the messages in earnest, stroking Arsène’s head absently. With each one she read, first one and then the other eyebrow began to rise.

Twenty minutes later, having carefully bookmarked her place and put the python back in his enclosure, Astaria stood on the roof of a building a few blocks away from The Inferno. Even in crisis, she refused to come any nearer to the place than was necessary. One manicured hand rested on the handle of a rolling metal suitcase packed with blood, just in case. The Night Court was splintering off to escape. From what she could tell, the King was, at the very least, safe and unharmed. But other members might not be so lucky and in need of sustenance. She’d made sure her most valued clients knew where to find her, those who were answering their texts at any rate.

She didn’t turn her gaze away from the part of the club she could see from here, even when the rooftop door opened behind her. “I see you made it out of the lion’s den,” Astaria said, her rich, blended accent rolling through the air.