goodfellow: (Default)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It was exactly one year since the pre-opening of Saturnalia, and the club had become even more successful than its proprietor had anticipated. In celebration, he opened its doors again for a blow-out of a New Year's Eve party, bringing back the theme of Greek decadence from the year before. Now, mingled against the typical industrial decor of the club (smattered with graffiti style murals of Greek myths), there were decorations of white and gold and reproductions of famous artwork, including a replica of the David statue in the middle of the floor.

Many in London had received invitations, including anyone with even the most distant connection to Robin Goodfellow, along with extra invitations as well. There was also a line outside, and the bouncers had been instructed to allow people in with some amount of randomness. After all, what fun was there in a party only filled with the rich and beautiful?

Unlike last year there was no expectation of any particular dress code, though there were many dancers and employees in the crowd in the skimpiest of togas to admire.

Alcohol was for sale, bartenders were talented, and also those employees in skimpy togas made their way through the crowd with shots and glasses of champagne on a regular basis. There were many dark corners and private rooms, and the music even made for dancing was sexy. All in all, it was clear that the theme of the night was modern hedonism.

OTA

Dec. 19th, 2016 03:34 pm
borgiafatale: (guileless)
[personal profile] borgiafatale
After nearly a year in Milan, Lucrezia was happy to be back in London. She'd missed it. This was her city, her family's city. Her father at least seemed to think he owned it, and perhaps he would someday, given the current gossip around the next PM elections. He'd made some very politically effective speeches lately, coming off as particularly compassionate, meaning he was plotting something.

It was probably a little too fast that she'd agreed to take the long term modeling contract that would take her away from London for so long. She hadn't asked Allan first. And when she told him, she'd pointed out that it was probably her last opportunity since she would age out of modeling soon enough. But he hadn't cared, not one bit. He was probably relieved. Glad she'd be away and he could stop hiding his mistress, whoever she was. Just as Lucrezia took the job in part to get away from him, from his cheating and drinking. Michael had seemed so certain that his drinking would lead to violence, just like her last husband. So it was only a stop gap, but there was a whole year where he didn't have the opportunity.

He'd seemed happy to see her, if the enthusiasm with which he dragged her to bed said anything. Though on the other hand, three days after Lucrezia's return five days ago, Allan had left on a business trip.

Which was why, as she walked out of a cafe holding a large cappuccino, it was a pretty big shock to see him across the street. A big enough shock that she dropped the cup, splattering hot coffee over her white tights (thankfully not bare legs). "Christ!" she gasped in surprise (he father would be appalled). And then she immediately spun around, afraid he might look over and see her, ignoring the cup rolling down the sidewalk and into someone's feet.

She probably looked like a crazy person. And she felt crazy, too, for being surprised at all.

OTA

Jul. 4th, 2015 11:41 pm
dr_spencer_reid: (bend)
[personal profile] dr_spencer_reid
 Unlike Hotch, Spencer had gotten used to being unarmed most of the time fairly quickly. He didn't miss the gun that had once hung from his hip any time he was in field, and he didn't find himself reaching for it at all when he was on the job.

However, he was aware that being unarmed left him much more vulnerable. He wasn't as strong as Hotch, he couldn't depend on brute strength to get by in a bad situation. It was that thought that had led him here, to a small studio in the centre of London, not far from his office. Most nights it served as a dance instruction studio, but tonight it had been full of people wanting to learn self defence.

The class was long and harder than he'd expected, and though he'd had time to shower and change, Spencer was still looking flushed as he stepped outside into the surprisingly warm night.
raith_rogue: (dark side)
[personal profile] raith_rogue
Thomas hadn't been sure about his decision to look into opening a club, especially when Lara had been enthusiastically supportive of the whole idea, but somehow here he was anyway. Tonight, Unleashed would open its doors, the thematic offspring of Zero even if he'd refused to share the name with the White Court's Chicago feeding grounds.

Everything was perfect. He'd seen to most of the details himself, at least for tonight's opening, though Dierdre would be taking over the regular operating headaches. The flyers had been circulating for weeks, there was an excited buzz about the venue, and when he'd peeked outside earlier the line had already been forming down the block. With luck, he'd be able to pay Lara back the capital investment she'd made in a year or less.

He did one last walkthrough, taking in the well-stocked bars on every level, the furniture and...other equipment scattered around the edges, the staff in their revealing leather and chrome uniforms. Once he was sure everything was in order, he descended back to the second floor and nodded to the DJ booth. The house lights went off, the club lights were switched on, and the pounding, throbbing, bass-heavy music flooded the multi-story building.

The doors were unlocked and the first few eager customers wandered in, wide-eyed. Unleashed was open for business.

[Gathering post style! Tag in, tag each other, have a good time! See here for more details. Open all week!]
autcaesar_autnihil: (gettin hot in here)
[personal profile] autcaesar_autnihil
Lucrezia and Cesare. When he runs into Lucrezia on the street, Cesare reports that things might be getting hot, with a Cabinet reshuffle on the horizon.

Michael and Cesare - Cesare stumbles over the previously mentioned hotness in time to thwart it. Michael decides to change his alliance from Rover to Borgia.

Michael and Cesare - A day later, his first major test of loyalty completed, Michael begins a new one... with a sound and voluntary ass-kicking.

Lucrezia and Cesare - That evening, Cesare checks up on Lucrezia to see how her part of the scheme went. As it turns out, she went far above and beyond.
anamusebouche: (Default)
[personal profile] anamusebouche

Jack the Ripper is back in town – and this time no one is safe.

Hannibal read the newspaper head-line again. It didn’t sit well with him. It didn’t sit well with him at all. How terribly banal.

Hannibal Lecter had been in London for a few years now. During that time several people had vanished, but none in any public way. It was only recently that inspiration had struck him to change that.

And that was where Bertrand Jensson had come in.

Bertrand Jensson was a don at Cambridge and guest lecturer at King’s College. Hannibal remembered him from when he had been a student at Cambridge, years and years ago. He remembered the man's rudeness, his crude remarks about Hannibal’s Eastern European background, and his fondness for humiliation of students in general. He also remembered his strict religious ways, how he tried to impose them on the students and how he preached on morality while he found it very hard to stay away from the younger students of the faculty himself.

Hannibal remembered him well. And now, nearly thirty years later, Jensson had paid with his life, two lungs and a kidney.

The newspapers got their hands on some photographs, and as a consequence of that, Jack the Ripper had been brought back to life.

Yes, admittedly, the fashion in which Jensson had been killed was not dissimilar to how Jack the Ripper had murdered his victims. The work showed surgical precision, not unlike the Ripper’s work. But it didn’t sit well with Hannibal that the media compared his work of art to the pathetic activities of a sad impotent failure who exhorted his rage on whores.

The ripper killed his victims and then maimed them. Jensson had been disembowelled before his throat was cut. The don had been ripped open and displayed, on the steps of a church in praying position, holding his own guts as a rosary. Several of his organs had been removed while he had still been breathing. After that, his neck had been sliced, nearly decapitating him. Only then had he been placed on the church steps to confess his sins.

Jack the Ripper is back in town… Hannibal sighed. Perhaps he ought to demonstrate how unlike the Ripper he was. But that would be indulgence into vanity, which might ultimately cost him his freedom. It was a risk he was unwilling to take.

He turned a corner and in a moment of lesser vigilance, he was shoved into an alley by a foul-smelling waste of space and air.  There, two more homeless men appeared, carrying knives.  "Your money and your phone, " they threatened. 

Hannibal resisted the urge to smile.

borgiafatale: (red carpet)
[personal profile] borgiafatale
This year's fundraising benefit for the Catholic Children's Society was a rather grander affair than usual. It wasn't just that Lucrezia Borgia had money, but she was very good at convincing people to give her things. Things like use of a gorgeous venue, and donations for the silent auction.

The event was divided into three main areas: a large receiving room with food and a bar along with videos on mounted screens with information about the cause, another with discreet armed guards amidst auction items (some abstract, such as dinner for two at some of London's best restaurants, and others well worth guarding, like a $15,000 pound emerald necklace), and then, outside amongst the fountain, a band playing jazz standards and space for dancing.

Along with the pledges for the auction, volunteers circulated amongst the guests to speak about the charity and ask for donations of time or money. It was, of course, all a bit absurd, a lavish gathering of the wealthy to Help The Needy, but (according to Lucrezia Borgia, who had organized most of this particular affair) the wealthy would have their fancy parties no matter what so they may as well be guilted into some charity while they're at it.

[OOC: Please feel free to handwave whatever justification you like for a character being here, including invites from some random NPC or just crashing the party!]
borgiafatale: (guileless)
[personal profile] borgiafatale
It seemed as if everyone Lucrezia knew was having a wedding or having a baby. Though she was only twenty-six and had already had two weddings herself, so perhaps she shouldn't complain about the showers. Besides, she actually enjoyed shopping for gifts... though for the baby showers, somewhat less.

Borgias did not do registries. So she was currently exiting a boutique on Oxford Street, where she had picked up a custom engraved pacifier with a curling "A" for Aragon on it. The gift was for some cousin or other of Allan's.

As Lucrezia prepared to hail a cab, the young shop clerk hurried out, holding up a slip of paper. "Mrs. Aragon, you forgot your receipt," she said with a little smile, and Lucrezia thanked her politely. She was accustomed to people calling her by her husband's name since she often used his credit cards, but she had actually not legally changed it. She'd gone back to Borgia from Sforza after her divorce, and she'd decided that changing her name twice was quite enough. Not that she expected this marriage to end, but... Allan hadn't put up a fight. Allan never put up a fight about anything.

As the store clerk went back into the shop, she turned from the doorway and smiled again, offering a pleasant, "Oh, and congratulations, Mrs. Aragon," before closing the door behind her.

Lucrezia felt her heart sink coldly in her chest at the clerk's assumption that she was pregnant. It brought a wave of unexpected emotion with it, and the strength of her own reaction startled her as much as anything else. One of her shopping bags slipped from her fingers and some items from a bath boutique down the street fell to the sidewalk at her feet - including a glass bottle of bath salts that broke and sent the sweet smell of rosemary and mint wafting up. Cursing quietly in Italian (which constituted the most useful Italian she'd learned from her first husband), she bent down carefully in her pencil skirt and began to retrieve everything as well as the (thankfully large) shards of glass so that no one hurt themselves due to her clumsiness.

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