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𓇢𓆸 𓆤 𖧧 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𖧧 𓍊𓋼 𔓘
𝔸𝕊 the sun ascended, casting its golden rays to herald the morning, Afissa, the faun woman, found herself assisting Vign. The task at hand involved tightening his black vested corset, a garment designed to conceal his wings. With deft fingers, she expertly manipulated the strings, ensuring the corset was snug. "Is this really necessary?" Vign inquired, a note of reluctance in his voice. "Well, we can't have you flying away in the middle of the day, now, can we? Straighten up," Afissa instructed with a firm but caring demeanour. "You can go where you like on your own time, but keep in mind that you're always representing this house." Vign sighed, his thoughts drifting to an old friend. "To that end, I don't suppose you know of a train going towards the Tetterby Hotel, do you?"
Afissa, with a stern tone, interjected, "What do you know of that place?"
"A friend of mine came to the Burgue a while ago. Heard he might be staying there," Vign replied. Afissa, adopting a stern look, stepped in front of Vign as she continued securing the front buttons of the vest. "The Tetterby is a house of ill repute, boy. On Carnival Row," she informed him, her expression unwavering. "I must be mistaken, then," Vign conceded, knowing well that he would find a way to locate his friend.
"You see that you are. Now, listen, boy," Afissa warned, her gaze intense. "I'll be keeping a close watch on you. I've got a full belly and a roof over my head, thanks to this family, and in this city, that's no mean feat. So you mind yourself." With that, the faun lady left the room, leaving Vign.
When he finished preparing, he set off to fulfill his duty, which involved cleaning the bathroom. Finishing the scrubbing of the toilet with a scoff, he walked toward the mirror positioned above the sink. Uncomfortable with the vest tightly securing his wings, he gazed at his reflection. As his eyes roamed, they landed on a small vial adorned with a gold pattern. Bringing it to his nose, he discovered it was perfume. An idea struck him on how he could encounter his friend. Checking the door to ensure no one was approaching, he swiftly opened the lid and poured the contents down the drain. "Vign?" a voice called from the door, snapping his attention. Hastily, he restored everything to its original state. "Are you just about finished in here?" Miss Spurnrose, also known as Imogen, who was in a sophisticated dress of deep blue hue, with a modest neckline and delicate lace or embroidery adding intricacy, stood inquiringly. The male fae, busy tending to the flowers, responded, "Yes, ma'am," grabbing his cleaning supplies before exiting the room, leaving Imogen to enter as she caught a glance at the vile that empty.
"I would send you on an errand," Imogen said, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. "Can I count on your discretion?" She inquired of Vign, who responded with a respectful, "Yes, ma'am." His gaze wandered out the window through the delicate white lace curtain. "I need you to go to the Row and have this refilled." Imogen handed him a small vial, causing his attention to snap back to her. Without hesitation, Vign accepted the vial. Imogen resumed her focus on the mirror, making meticulous adjustments to her hair.
