She turned her head lightly as she heard the carriage door shut behind her. Her hands writhed with one another as she remained statue-esque for a long moment. It wasn't until the escort of her carriage driver nudged her back softly with a splayed palm in silent beckon that she took those few long steps to the imposing door. The place was relatively tidy, but there was a scent upon the air that... made her skin crawl with an anxious insistence. He opened the door for her, and she would glance upwards, but he would only look away. It did painful little - if not worsening - the horrid burn of abashment that marred her all the way from the tips of her ears to beyond the neckline of her gown.

Just like that, she was pressed into the wolf's den. Yet another place she was unfamiliar with, but this one should not have been. Her coach had been given specific instructions to securely and secretly bear her here. At least that was all that she was made aware of. Her fingers bit at the parchment envelope clasped within her pocket, withdrawing it as she was approached. "Ah..." the coo of the maiden who approached and was quickly given the sealed message would release a soft breath. Her smile was warm, but there was something that danced within her gaze that only insistently increased that feeling of unease she'd felt outside the door. "Right this way, m'lady." The impish mockery was followed by a soft trill of sultry laughter.

She said nothing, keeping her eyes locked upon the floor as she was lead back to the privacy of a room. At the door, the woman would merely knock upon the surface with the back of her fingers, departing without word. It left the young woman lingering outside of the unknown, finally tearing her sight from the floor to the portal she'd been left before. It was plain, no specific marker left upon its face to tell her what it was to expect. 'Everything is already taken care of, Arabella. All you have to do is be there.' It was her mother's voice that laced her thoughts in recollection. While such a thing should be comforting, it was certainly anything but now that she was here.

Now she waited for whoever was on the other side of that door.

the fit     In this house of lavished debauchery paced a creature aligned with the devils of uncertainty.  Their whispers swam, they feasted, and they talked against the curve of my ear as they always did when standing before the scrutiny of Madam Vega's customers.  A pauper pet dressed like the queen of Crue Effros.  Each thread enchants the eye, drawing lascivious attention to the working girls' wide hips and slender waists.  The girls with ample breasts are put on display with glittering powders and strategic makeup.  Along with this fate, my mother cursed me with a figure ripe from the gardens of feminity as was evident in how the man's scoring hands seared my skin and it took all my power to hold the spittle in my mouth.  You are no cobra.  I smiled at him, charming and demure.  Your venom will not work here. Satin slippers continued their parade to and fro in front of the carefully crafted bay window.  When it came to the comforts of these suitors, Madam Vega spared no expense.  Even we girls were well tended with carefully kempt hair, ample clothing, and jewellery given to us by our scandalous patrons.  There were perfumes aplenty on the dresser - each a scent that may appeal to men.  A bathing basin sat near the fireplace to the east side of the room, a prop for more specific fantasies.  At the foot of a bed was an elegant chest carved with symbols that meant little more than decoration.  Inside were ropes, silk strips, paddles, and horse crops meant to be used on us should the paying man fancy that kind of night. They were allowed to do as they wished short of murder, of course. My mind found a momentary lapse of quiet when the door thumped with the anticipated arrival of my... guest.  I swallowed hard while deft hands slid over my body, smoothing out the black lace of my gold-rimmed corset to ensure that I was the perfect image of what one would expect in a brothel.  An eager, enchanting whore.  What was uncertainty soon became disgusted, followed by surprise when the door opened to reveal not a man... but a woman.  Then there was a gnawing pity for this poor creature, surely another of Madam Vega's poor girls lured into the Venus trap.  "I'm sorry sweetheart."  I'd open the door enough to lean against its frame and speak gently, compassionately, to the nervous woman.  "Did Madam Vega not tell you this room is reserved for tonight?  There may be one down the hall you can use for..."  Then I noticed she was alone and my voice trailed into silence.  I blinked, trying to look over her shoulder to see if perhaps another person was there with her only to see a man walking away.  "Oh."  I couldn't help the nervous chuckle nor the blush against my outlandishly dark complexion.  "I'm so sorry, Madam.  We don't get many women here so I thought... nevermind that.  Come in."  And I'd step back, opening the portal in welcome invitation.

thethornwreath It seemed as though the moment that passed beyond when the woman knocked upon the door and when she heard the movement within the protected sanctuary yawned forever. Eternity presented in the nervous way nails bit at the deep blue fabrics of her topmost dress layer. The finely stitched and elegantly crafted material nearly fit to unravel as her hands twisted fervently within one another. The sound of footsteps was nearly enough to make her flee, and yet the cold reminder of the winter air outside deterred such thoughts - if but for now. This would be it. This would have been the perfect opportunity for her to make her escape, and perhaps she still would provided the room boasted a window large enough for her to writhe through. She hadn't been able to bring her provisions for her intended trip, and it was yet another hole punched through the ideal. She feared the elements, the biting cold that was so very slowly giving way to the unfurling arms of spring. If it was but just a bit later into the oncoming season, she'd have no resistance to the notion. A foolish ploy of her mother was this, especially not to send her intended watcher with her as well. Perhaps her show of surrender had been more convincing that she had originally given it credit for. Her thoughts scattered like shadows before the light as the door actually opened, however. The expression of the woman who lingered at the partially open egress morphed from something of soft disdain to... pity. A disheartening emotion that settled like a blade in between her ribs and made it hard to breathe. Her vision averted from her face as her cheeks flushed softly. However, the blush only grew in leaps and bounds as her gaze found the scantily clad and extravagant garments that cloaked the shapely figure before her. "I'm sorry sweetheart." Her coo was tender, but the startled fumbling of the less than stellar attempt at communication by Arabella only had her ending up biting her lip fiercely. "Did Madam Vega not tell you this room is reserved for tonight?  There may be one down the hall you can use for..." Open saucers would quickly switch back to her face. "F-for?" came the stammered babble as she fiercely tried to hide the cringe of discomfort from her expression. "Oh." But it was her turn to utter a soft laugh, her features vaguely mirroring Ara's own, though miserably falling short of the flaming red that claimed her skin as if she'd been scalded. "I'm so sorry, Madam.  We don't get many women here so I thought... nevermind that.  Come in." She stepped aside, and the door would open further to swallow her up. Confusion bit at her tongue, but she could not even begin to fathom upon how to announce her inquiries. Not when her tongue was laced in intricate knots. Her hesitance was clear, as she allowed her few steps to carry her into the den of mire. She didn't know what she had expected, but the lavish of the room was beyond her expectations. It appeared extremely comfortable, much like the plush interior of her family manor. However, it was the large bay window that snared her apprehensive gaze once it was taken in. A potential gateway to her freedom. The driver was unlikely to stay nearby and none other had been spared to guard her. A prisoner without their ankle weight and tempted with an easy way out indeed. "I-I-I'm terribly sorry. I..." her words would die upon the tip of her tongue, her hands having had returned to their writhing destruction without her even having noticed and she would tuck them into her pockets in effort to still them. "My name is... Arabella." She would force the words to come smoothly, yet in place of her stammer, they would slow with effort. She smiled, though the simper was admittedly weakened with uncertainty. "What's your name?" !

a wreath of thorns adorns the door
no one comes home anymore