[ti]6[/ti]// ⊱ ❝ may death find you alive ❞

I'll keep you like an oath

The year is 1773 and many women in the backallys of London have taken to the streets to earn a living. Brothels have been becoming highly funded and popular, allowing the trade to boom. With more patrons each day, the more prestigious working girls flaunt their wealth in expensive silks and tantalizing rouge. Meanwhile, the struggling rivals resort to blackmail and sabotage to claw their way to the top. Harper Penn lures customers to his house with the promise of exotic women in exotic costume that he claims to have brought back from his travels of the world as a cartographer. He has girls of all races and extravagance is his game. Harriet Embry, however, runs a more modest business. She employs men and women regardless of pedigree, as long as they promise quality. She has the loyalty of her customers, but it's difficult to compete with a man who knows how to wriggle into their heads.

Storylines & Characters

fool's gold                                                       There's been a murder in Penn's place of business. One of the girls was found in the early hours of the morning. While rumors circulate of the culprit belonging to Harriet Embry, some are not so easily persuaded of that truth. characters: elsie, seong-ja god's will                                                         Religious protesters are darkening Harriet Embry's doorstep, hindering business. One of them happens to be the wife of a frequent patron, who is out for the blood of her husband's favorite girl. characters: amos, harriet penn is open ⊱⊱ harriet embry . mistress . thirty-nine . 明珠  . x ⊱⊱ amos james . embry . twenty-five . kjaleo . x ⊱⊱ elsie james . penn . twenty-three . kjaleo . x ⊱⊱ lee seong-ja . penn . twenty-two . 明珠 . x

open for reservations discussion characters

Waking up alone, her stomach pressed to the mattress and a light sheet thrown haphazardly over her body, Seong-ja was used to mornings like these. Rolling to her back, the brunette lay there for a moment, simply staring at the space above her before she left the comfort of her bed to get dressed. Somewhat tired this morning, the brunette wasn’t feeling tHaving been relieved of her undergarments the night before, Seong-ja rebound her chest and put on a dari-sokgot, underwear that was seemingly a fundonshi to some and a loincloth to others. Another part of Penn’s “exotic” appeal, it greatly interested the European customers unused to the sight. Running a hand through her hair, Seong-ja cringed as her splayed fingers met unceremoniously with knots. Finding her comb, the brunette began the tedious work of doing her hair. A simple procedure of parting and braiding, the act had grown boring over the years. Then again, most things had, which is probably why Seong-ja was so set on amusing herself nowadays.

Spying a splash of red from the corner of her eye as she finished, Seong-ja turned to her outfit for the day. Holding up the silk kimono (although it was more yukata), the brunette both admired and scrutinized the article of clothing, an expression half sour, half dreamy appearing on her face. While it was indeed beautiful, the implications the piece of clothing drew were unsavory in her mind; the gift was insulting, but cherished. “I’m not even Japanese,” she sighed, murmuring the words to herself with a flair dramatic enough that it made it all a joke. The issue not really bothering her, or at least not to a dire extent, she had long gotten over cultural confusion and blunt racial bias here in London. Now that the necessary complaining had been achieved, Seong-ja shrugged the kimono on, enjoying the richness of the fabric and fluidity of its movement. Tying the sash around her waist tight, she looked down at her body, admiring herself as she smoothed her hands over the silk. Slipping into a pair of shoes resembling close toed flats, they were Korean onhye; a contradiction to the Japanese kimono, but what she wore nonetheless. Besides, it’s not like the customers knew the difference or cared about it; cultural congruity was not in her job description and for a reason.

Finally presentable, ready to do the work she was here for, Seong-ja left her room. Quietly closing the door behind her, her movements practiced and poised, she smoothed her hands down the skirt of the kimono once again. A realized nervous tick, the woman wasn’t interested in fixing it, she had other things to worry about. “Ah, Elsie,” her words said without much emotion, the brunette’s tone was entirely neutral as she greeted her friend(?). Arching a delicate brow, Seong-ja asked, “Late night?” What might’ve been insulting had they shared any other profession, this was somehow typical within the house, reality more than snark. Not that the brunette was incapable of snark, in fact it was a specialty she shared with the other woman present. However, in this particularly rare case, Seong-ja offered a straightforward question rather than a half truth or lie.

Elsie James  ❝ got shackles on, my wings are tied❞   22  ; ♀ ;  with seong-ja

Though she had woken to the commotion of the first girls waking, Elsie had laid on her back staring at her red velvet canopy thinking of nothing. It was a rare luxury that she reveled in, but it was brought to an abrupt halt when one of the other girls rapped on her open doorway and shouted at her to get up. Elsie merely lolled her head to the side with a sneer until the girl walked away, then she sat up and allowed her tangled silk sheets to cascade around her legs. She had remained in her night clothes from the night before, something her customer had insisted upon. The pretentious businessman was gone now, leaving Elsie and her room in a tizzy. Tossing her leg over the sheets, she bent a knee to examine her white stockings with lace trim, having gathered around her calves. She pulled the garment up to her thigh and proceeded to meticulously preen away the pills. She looked up as she heard her name from the doorway once more, half-pinned black hair draping over her shoulder. She offered her signature smile, soft yet sinister. "Good morning, Seong-ja," she greeted smoothly, swinging her legs over and hopping to the floor. She scraped a corset from the floor and handed it to the other woman, pulling her hair over her shoulder and turning her back to her, expecting her to help her get the thing laced. "Is Lottie awake?" Her tone was light yet stern. The girl was new and showed promise, but lacked discipline. Elsie had been chosen as her mentor at Penn's command, hoping she would give him another legend. Elsie did nearly whatever she wanted, but as she had to explain to the little blonde, she had earned that right. To be one of the greats, you had to work at it.

Taking the corset without hesitation, the brunette proceeded with a certainty that gave hint to how many times she’d done such a thing before. Not quite a lady in waiting, the Korean was simply at peace with the fact that Elsie was at the top of this place. That combined with the fact they occasionally shared interests, Seong-ja was fine with how things were. Besides, no one else could possibly deal with either of them, not if they had been exposed to the same amount of “colourful” behaviour and especially if they were forced to deal with the two together. Unsure how to describe what they had, it was definitely there, just vague in description. So while although the relationship wasn’t a picturesque friendship between ladies, they got on well enough that Seong-ja stuck around.

Laughing at the other girl’s question, the sound didn’t hold long enough for it to be a perceived insult. It was short, abrupt, but soft; simply expression accenting something along the lines of disbelief hinted with playfulness. “Surely you jest. While you have been unfortunate enough to be imposed with an,” searching for the word, the situation a common amusement to her, Seong-ja pursed her lips in a smile as she said, “apprentice, I pay little attention to the other girls.” The brunette wasn’t known for her amicability, and was rarely nice to those not of a higher power, thus her lack of trainee. While although not the best, that title was reserved for the brunette in front of her, the Korean wasn’t low on the totem pole. A probable reason why she had been able to form a sort of friendship with Elsie. Besides, Seong-ja didn’t take pleasure in power, she enjoyed the leisure it gave, but being in Elsie’s position was not on her list of things to do. Taking the moment to continue lacing the other’s corset, Seong-ja did so in silence before she gave a real answer seconds later, “But no, I’ve just finished getting ready, I haven't been out long and so far, I haven’t seen her.”

Continuing her work on Elsie’s corset, Seong-ja felt bad for all the other girls and their corsets. While her country and the ones surrounding it had their beauty standards, for the most part their figure were hidden to some degree, and they ths had no use of the corset. In stark comparison, the people of the west seemed to heavily favour impossibly cinched waists, and would definitely go the distance to get them. One of the few things the brunette would confidently say she liked about Penn's house? As she was made a cultural showcase, she was spared the task of wearing a corset. There were times when she conformed to western standards, yes, but not nearly enough she had to get used to the tortuous thing. Running her hand down the threaded ribbon, Seong-ja kept her eyes on her work as she asked, “Is this tight enough?”