Playlist posts and my own new WIP have me thinking about Lord Ancunín's nightclub, Sangréal.
(Thicker Than Blood -Ch 12)
I dreamed it, I built it, I wrote it, I used it exactly once, and then I haven't been back, and I miss it, so I share it (in super-extra-indulgent post) Including three of the songs that make it what it is.
Sangréal hosted debauched affairs, resplendent with beautiful young souls clad in leather or less, as easily as it did more modest functions for respectable citizens. More often than not, even the respectable succumbed to the allure and the seduction before the sun came up. The music was loud, the flesh was ripe, and the liquor was fine. Those who attended thought themselves quite exclusive too, and when the Ascendant first heard Sangréal referred to as a club, Astarion adopted the word quickly. It certainly sounded more exciting than lounge, and less seedy than pleasure house.
thanks, @missfortunetherogue for lending me your v.hot Miss Fortune for this show
1. Villains Aren't Born - Peggy - this goes back to the genesis of Astarion/Mauria, and it never fails to land where she needs it to.
It was early; not yet sunset, but already the bartenders were there prepping all their pretty elixirs. Behind the bar, all shape of bottles lined glass shelves. Inside them, their chromatic liquids gleamed and swirled hypnotically, promising a truly unique night. Sangréal served nothing but the finest liquors, imported from all corners of Toril. Additionally, for those seeking to adventure a little further into hedonism, Sangréal employed one of the best alchemists on the Sword Coast making some of the best party enhancements available. The club offered several, but the most popular offering was Veil; a glamour potion, designed and refined simply to make the drinker more attractive to the person they next kissed, according to their own specific tastes. The scent of licorice permeating the air indicated to Astarion that Promise was warming behind the bar. This nectar was crafted to improve one's chances. In truth, it was no more than an Elixir of Peerless Focus; a little confidence combined with well placed heuristic price theory. Mauria taught him that particular approach. Tell people it's expensive, and they will assume it's good.
His personal favourite was something he brought in from the Underdark. It was not on offer, strictly speaking, as it was entirely illegal. The man behind the bar called it Trigger. It was a potent blend of sex pollen, and for deniability Astarion never cared enough to inquire about further. It commanded a high price and was exclusive to his club. He hadn’t ever tried Trigger, nor had he any intention to. Watching his patrons empty their wallets for it was pleasure enough, he told those who dared to ask him why not. Astarion delighted in the idea of dark corners of his club writhing with bodies surrendered to its effects. He would sit in the shadow of his corner table, and watch the chemically uninhibited taste and grope and savour one another. He revelled in his ability to create and guide these carnal encounters—and would on occasion to invite couples, or small groups to perform for his enjoyment—but he never touched a soul nor allowed anyone to touch him. His pleasure was their pleasure.
big 💕 to @dramatiquechipmunk for her beautiful girl Octavia Fallguard on my stage
At the bar, his head server handed him two fingers of a glowing amber scotch without needing to be asked, which Astarion took to his usual spot at the back of the music hall.
Tonight the atmosphere was to pulled back slightly from the usual. Sophisticated, sensual, intimate; that’s what he’d directed his staff to arrange. Around him, deep sofas of black velvet were placed in cozy arrangements, lounge-style, meant for conversation and gathering. High tables of black iron and smoked glass peppered the centre of the room, anchored with heavy crystal lamps casting everything in a flickering glow.
2. omg - Marian Hill - This makes me think of so many of my favourite hot Tavs (you know who you are)
Even the floor, covered in a thick pile weave and patterned in black, gold, and blood red, had been carefully hand-chosen. An ill-advised selection for this kind of establishment, the rug merchant had argued, and tried repeatedly to sell him on something less extravagant. Astarion practically had to compel the vendor to take the sale. The entire point of this establishment was to be uncompromising. Looking about, he felt now as he had then; certain he was entitled, and unwilling to be denied.
The most stunning feature of this room was the wall. The feature wall ran the length of the main room, from the cloakroom to the stage. Upon it were hung mirrors—hundreds of them. From the backs of the sofas to the ceiling, they made up a mosaic of various shapes, styles, and sizes crammed onto every square inch. The effect was stunning, as his entire beautiful creation was doubled. Every flickering light, every shining bottle, every beautiful body. When Astarion looked about the room he saw only himself reflected back from every angle. Dark, impossible beauty.
3. Insane, Black Gryph0n - This just completely embodies the vibe of the club. Classic and unhinged in equal measure.
I make up a lot of places and people for my stories (Canon? Never heard of 'em!) but this might be my favourite.
if you're all the way down here, then 💕💕💕💕
