7twistedwishes | A Night of No Torment

Esfir...well, later, she'll work out why she is doing this. For now, though, it is enough to just look at the lights. The lights of a city - an American city, to be sure, but still a city.

"Of all the places I never thought to visit..."

"The only inconvenient of Seattle is the rain... we have an awful lot of rain, but..." The Devil claps hands, and the rain starts to die down. "Not tonight, I want lots of people on the street. I want the city to be alive and bursting and shining."

She watches Esfir a moment. "I will have to shrink outfits a few sizes to fit you. Have I told you how charming I find you tiny build, dear?" Scarlet beckons her, moving to the bedroom.

"No, you haven't."

She manages to keep her tone neutral - it's an effort, but she manages. Being short and skinny is occasionally very, very annoying.

"Beautiful." The Devil winks to her, smiling warmly.

In the bedroom, she opens the doors to a walk-in closet that for some reason, seems to take up the rest of the building lenght and width...

Devil-magic, of course. "Now, I think we can start with black, black is universally elegant, beautiful, misterious, enticing." She turns left down a row of hangers, her voice growing a bit dimmer. "Hmm, and proper shoes too..."

Esfir is not, exactly, paying attention.

She's staring in pure shock at the Devil's wardrobe.

The voice is dimmer even. "Lets see... this... no, tacky, we need something with content. Even if I am sure you could provide content to any ensemble."

"Oh, yes, stockings, proper underwear. And this and that."

"This too... ah, yes, this will be just perfect..."

Esfir has reasons to stare, the Devil has clothes enough to dress a whole city there.

She just...

She's never...

So many clothes!

And Scarlet returns, from the opposite side she wandered of to, carrying a bundle of things in black. "Would you like to take a long bubble bath before getting dressed?"

"I don't think my conscience can stretch that far."

The Devil nods. "I can provide a very spartan cold shower, but I suggest you take it: dancing is very energetic, it is better to start as comfortable as possible... even more since I am quite sure you will not let me extend my physical protections over you."

"Will I need it? The protection?"

She ponders. "Protection is a bit of a strong word. I mean... if I walk out on the rain, I don't get wet, if the weather is hot or cold, I don't suffer for it, if a car hits a puddle of muddy water, I don't get splashed... small things that help me enjoy existance as much as possible. I face only the hardships and challenges I choose to."

"Oh, I can give you perfect use of english, unaccented even, while you are here."

"I'll manage, thank you."

"Very well. Shower is that room over there if you wish." She hands the bundle of clothes. "These are very usual clubbing clothes, everybody will be dressing in similar but diverse things. I will look for shoes for you and an outfit for me."

"Pretend you are home, or at least take free reign of the facilities." And off she wanders into the endless wardrobe.

She nods and takes the clothes, carefully shutting the door behind her. She puts the clothes down on the counter, strips (neatly), unbraids her hair and steps into the shower.

It's an oppulent bathroom.

She's not looking.

What she does is wash, long and thorough and leaving her hair scented when she steps out. Still not thinking, still not looking at her thin, wiry body with old scars and the dog-tags around her neck in that gorgeous mirror, still not stopping to listen to the little voice saying Yesfir Shostakovna, what the fuck are you doing?

She blowdries her hair to sleek straightness, pulls the clothes on, and walks out.

Oppulent. That is a way to describe the large room of marble, mirrors and luxury. The devil has a large jacuzzi in there, the showerhead sends cascading water like a heavy rainfall, lotions and essences and liquid soaps are avaiable in dozens of fragrances.

The towels are thick and soft. The air is the right temperature to avoid unwelcome chills...

Yesfir Shostakovna, what the fuck are you doing?

Well, definitely she is not thinking about Han now.

Whe she comes out, The Devil is waiting, wearing a nice dress of her own. She offers Esfir a pait of boots. "Try these. They will clash a bit with your dress and add to the effect."

Han was only ever part of the problem.

Not that Esfir feels like admitting that, even to herself. At least, not yet.

Still, it only takes a fraction of a moment for her to stop staring at the boots, and take them from the Devil. Getting into them is interesting, but finally she stands.

Being over five feet tall is never going to get old.

Ever.

"Would it be impolite to ask if I can keep the boots?"

(Part of her, that rebellious part mostly quashed, wants to keep the rest of it. She's trying to ignore it)

The Devil smiles brightly. "Oh dear... keep the whole outfit if you wish." She picks up car keys and gestures to the door. "Shall we?"

Oh yes, out, and down to the garage.

Scarlet drives a black Lamborghini with vanity plates 'BAD1'. More luxury, also with a generous helping of machine power. "Sometimes I wish I lived in the future, so I could have a flying car."

...

She climbs in, waiting for Esfir, continuing when the russian woman joins her. "Of course, I could keep a Harrier jumpjet on the roof of the building, but I imagine it is against some city ordnance or another."

"You couldn't make it invisible?" She asks, unable to keep her hand from sliding over the arm-rest on the door.

"But then what would be the point of having it, if I could not only use it but have people see me using it?" Really.

"You know, make people shake with wrath and tremble with envy." The powerful engine rumbles, and the car rolls to the garage exit. "Do you like speed and thrill, dear?"

"I flew MiG-21PFs before rockets."

"I will take that as a yes. Fasten your seatbelt if you want." The Devil step down on the gas and the powerful engine launches the car ahead. A hundred and twenty miles per hour is a far cry from the speed of sound, but... they are in a city. Ina normal city street.

Anyway the speed hits a hundred and forty, by which time things start to blur outside.

And Esfir?

Just.

Smiles.

The car roars across Seattle, speeding up, slowing down just the bare minimum to make turns into larger streets. A hundred and fity, sixty, seventy, city lights zooming past.

She drives... well, like a devil? Impossible spaces, close calls to crashes, avoiding disaster by an inch or less, and she laughs, spreading her own brand of terror. "Something never, ever get old, darling..."

She grins, sharp and brilliant as a diamond.

"Never."

Two hundred miles per hour. "I am sure there are police cars somewhere trying to find us." Poor police and their underpowered sedans.

"Oh, watch this." She hits the brakes hard while turning the wheel and the car spins madly, tires squealing and screeching and finally sliding sideways into a parking spot in front of the nightclub.

Can you feel the adrenaline?

Lips parted, eyes bright, her ever-steady heart beating fast - she can feel it. Oh, yes, she can.

"Nice driving," is all that she says.

The Devil grins.

And looks at Esfir. A smoldering look, right into her eyes.

"You know, what I would like to do right now?"

A fraction of a beat, and then she turns to look at Scarlet, eyes questioning.

"Discover what your lips taste like." What is better than a hot, smoldering kiss when you are all hyped up in adrenaline?

Usually, she would just take it.

But Esfir does not belong to the normal cycle.

That is new and enticing, someone she has to ask and cajole, not control.

"You are not the first," she says at last. "But we are going to dancing, I believe. Vertically. With clothes on. So..."

"So that does not exclude kissing."

"But I am just asking." The Devil smirks, opening her door and slipping out of the car.

"I appreciate that," she says to Scarlet's empty seat. Then with a quick shake of her head, she opens her own door and gets out.

Oh.

Yes.

She's hearing ridiculously clompy boots. She'd forgotten about that.

They are in front of a nightclub.

There is a long, very long line of people waiting to enter.

Scarlet does not wait in lines, she beckons Esfir and heads to the door.

Part of her wants to duck her head, look away, take cover and avoid the notice.

All of that which is impossible, so the tiny woman lifts her chin, keeps her back straight, and walks at Scarlet's heels.

And if she's defaulting to something closer to a march, well.

It matches the clothes.

Nobody seems to find anything unusual about the clothes,

Esfir gets plenty of admirative glances.

The Devil moves to the security guy in a dark suit by the door. She steps close to the man, a word whispered on his ear, a touch to his chest, and he opens the door for her and the russian astronaut.

"Prepare to be amazed...." She winks to Esfir, offering a hand before stepping in.

(She is used to the glances, although not in such an open and obvious setting)

Esfir glances at Scarlet warily, but takes her hand as she is led in.

And then she nearly gasps.

Entering through the door and up a short but dark flight of stairs is kind of a spooky way to start the best part of an evening, but there is something... well, something feels good, like a vibration, a tingle on their bones. Funny how the music seems relatively low, dance club loudness considered.

The DJ booth is at the back, right side from people heading in, atop a small stage with a glass enclosure and special lighting that shines up the dance floor. That area is a bit lower than the rest of the room, taking up most of the space, and is relatively full.

Small booths line one side of the room, on the other stairs lead upstairs, and a long bar dominates the front (left) of the first floor.

The devil guides her guest on, stepping past an invisible threshold into a sea of sound, loud but not too much. Speakers, sub woofers, all calibrated and directed so the dance floor has its own 'bubble' of sound, music and rhythm thick and dense like a fog, not only inviting, but demanding people to dance. The music can be not only heard but felt. There is something about the press of bodies and the movement of the crowd and the sheer energy put out by so many people...almost magical.

A Night of No Torment

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