Morbuskid
See past the darkness, and view the light.
Welcome to New Avion
“Can you feel that gentle caress on the skin? That sweet little breeze that carries the scent of spring flowers? A moment of peace, right? Heh…well, if you feel that way then you’ve never been to New Avion. “
“A place drowning in steel, filth, and money, a place where the ambitious come for a piece of the pie and where the lost souls go to wander looking for a place to call home. You think those shiny and fancy districts with booze, shows, and gambling has to be better right?”
“ Nope…. They’re filthy in their own kind of ways, the people that owe to those districts tend to disappear, without a whisper to their name. But, I guess the attraction of a better life has power over the desperate, and who am I to try and stop them from dreaming big, right?”
The day is young, the sun barely crests above the towering buildings of this sleepless city. The streets are already filled with the hustle and bustle of this metropolitan paradise. People move in crowds along the sidewalks like waves in the ocean, rushing towards their workday. As the streets fill with their typical sounds of honking, expletives, and the waves of rubber and metal rushing past one’s ear, the shops open their doors, the kids reluctantly march to another draggin day at school, and while the rest of the city yawns and stretches its legs, the shadows stir….
This cool morning in particular, Sal was hosting an eggs and bacon breakfast special in the hope of grabbing some extra customers, plastering his posters as far as he can around the 3rd district on the weathered wooden telephone poles and mossy brick walls that stood out in areas of traffic.
The soft old man works as hard as his aging body will take him, he furls his face in concentration as his cracked and dry leather shoes clack along the uneven sidewalk. He moves through the crowds, navigating the thick of it expertfully. As he reaches his store, he takes a minute to himself and plants himself gently onto one of his outside chairs, lounging for a minute and taking a breather. His knees and feet ache from the mile or so walk, it wasn’t too much trouble for him back in the day, hell he’d been paid to march for miles on end, with pounds of gear all strapped to his young and strong body. He exhales, all this reminiscing about the days of his youth and all the energy he possessed, but here he is now. A proud little owner of his own little business.
After lazing for a bit, he finally musters his strength to get on with the day as he stands up from his chair, pushing it back in line with the table, and heading inside. It doesn’t take long for him to fire up the stove top and get to work, for the next couple of minutes his shop is ablaze in the inviting aroma of sizzling bacon and frying eggs, the whistling of a tea pot and the fragrance of fresh coffee. The clang of his metal spatula hits the stove top like the bass of his own symphony. Pretty soon he hears that old familiar sound, *ding* as the first few customers of the day walk in. A smile lights up under his thick and gray mustache as he turns to meet his customer(s), “bouna giorno! (Good morning!), what can I get ya?”
Meanwhile…
The atmosphere in the Heaven’s Loft is surprisingly relaxed for the first time in a while, as the stage is being swept and tables being prepped, Lady Elaine wishes to make a headstart on preparations for tonight. She watches from the balcony over the help as they get her Cabaret into tip-top shape, sporting a casual red dress, complimented by a set of black heels and a pearl necklace. Her short and wavy brunette hair falls just above the shoulders as the light dances from her two diamond earrings dangling from her knife-like ears. A pale, petite and boney face with eyes a soft shade of lavender and velvet red lips.
Her gaze is cold and calculating, she has run one of the finest cabarets in the world for 30 years and she does not intend for tonight to be any different than the others. However, extra preparation is needed, hence why she is working so early. The Cabaret intends to house more visitors than it has in over 60 years of entertainment, she intends to send a message to not just New Avion but to the world with International tourists and politicians attending tonight's show, she can not afford this place to look like common riff raff. “Lady Elaine,” she hears from her left, glances over her shoulder, a quiet yet stiff reply to her protege. Next to her, with undivided attention, stands Maxwell, a fit and handsome man, with blonde hair and jade like eyes. She did not choose him as her successor based on looks alone, he is also cunning and formidable, if he needs to talk to her it is something of importance.
“I have caught wind that THE Itavonian wishes to come by, he will be making an unannounced appearance soon.” Elaine scoffs, “Of course, wishes to see the main header before the event is ready.” Her elegant and aged tone treats this like a challenge, making it seem as though it was a game between siblings. “Very well, he may see our starting acts but she must not be revealed too soon. I don’t want him spoiling this act, not like last time.” She waves her hand behind her, dismissing her acquaintance. Maxwell simply nods, knowing his task.
Moving quickly past the archway entrance to the balcony seats, Maxwell walks in deep strides towards the dressing rooms. He passes the helpers down this extravagant corridor adorned in golden lighting, fine white walls, and marble flooring which has been finely decorated in tapestry and eloquent carpets. As he rounds the corner past the guest rooms and storage rooms he happens upon another long corridor, with sets of clothes and instruments being rushed through and carefully put into place. Maxwell slips his way past the commotion until he comes to a deadstop at a beige door with a large star decorating its exterior, home of the name “Indarra”. Maxwell tidies his cuffs and tie before knocking gently upon the door, “Miss Indarra, it’s Max, may I have a moment of your time?”
