In this city of gold and shining lights,
there are no rules beyond those that
She imposed. mayhaps in other parts
of the realm the divide between spirit
& demon, sprite & faerie, dryad &
nymph were more tersely defined,
but here, in the corner of the realm
pressed flat beneath His Lady’s fat
bejeweled palms, crushed by her
influence, there was but one unspoken
rule, one common denominator to unite
all: GOLD. if the workers were a
conglomerate of parts forming a cohesive
machine, then currency was the oil &
the lubricant running through them, keeping
them in line, in working order. all was done
for the sake of money. for the satisfaction
of a single gold nugget. the workforce had
qualms with the presence of unsavories
waltzing in, beyond their individual personal
biases — but even these could be pushed
aside for the most part to ensure their
wallets would stretch larger than their neighbors.
the spirit’s own distaste for demons is personal
and prejudiced — he does not trust them,
does not value their input or place in spirit
society, and prefers not to associate with them —
but even the worst of sorts can be smiled and flirted
with, if it ensures him a wealthy tip at the end. with
his mercurial tongue and impeccable ability to lie,
he has won the hearts of many a patron, and he
does not intend for his golden streak to end this night.
the man across the bridge stinks of demonic heritage,
but still he is approached, the spirit’s footsteps loud
enough to alert his presence but quiet enough not
to startle. porcelain hands are clasped behind slender
back; in the evening light he is the portrait of high class
service, emotion carefully packed away behind that
beautiful face, cerise lips set in a gently enigmatic smile.
and his voice is a dream, soft without being utterly servile,
warm without being overtly friendly or personable. the heat
rollicking off his guest is palpable, but he says nothing.
❝ May I be of assistance?”
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
janainaart
