Given the Marquis' Closet's clientelle and its location just a block away from the city's main alternative club scene, the shop usually does business after dark and stays open later than most similar stores.  This of course also suits the nocturnal habits of its proprietor.  It's quite a nice convenience.

With Melissa in tow Morgana steps into the shop as if...well as if she owns the place, which she does of course.  In here every day is Halloween and as such there are actually few decorations for the upcoming holiday.  For the first timer of course it would seem the place is decked to the nines for the modern Samhain.  As it is the place is stocked with corsets in all makes and materials, velvet and lace skirts, frilled shirts and blouses, fishnets and mesh, and for the brave and daring a kinky assortment of leather, latex, and PVC.

"Now then" Morgana says as she begins drifting through the racks and aisles of clothing.  "We must decide what kind of style you're going for.  Contrary to most people's views goth isn't just 'goth.'  We could go with a Renaissance or Victorian look, or some vintage '80s apparel, or a modern cybergoth look.  Of course if you really want to floor them and shock them there's some fetish garb."  Morgana puts a hand on cocked hip and finally turns to regard Melissa.  There's a smug smile on her ruby lips.  The frosty domme bitch facade that she so often affects in public is gone.  She still exudes confidence and self assurance.  She still has an aura that she is in complete control of every minor detail around her.  But there's no iron handed tyranny to that control.  Only grace.

'As much fun as that looks...'

I run my fingers over a tiny leather number that could probably fit in an envelope. I can play dress up with the best of them but the nuances of this style are probably going to go right over my head. I will be placing alot of trust in Morgana to not make me look like an idiot in front of the entire city.

'I think that might be a little much. I like the sound of something victorian though. What do you think?'

Morgana nods.  "Best not to get too out of hand with the first go.  I've always been fond of the Victorian style.  Elegant and poised.  Shame we seem to have passed up that kind of style."  She moves through the store to a rack of corsets and bustiers.  "Something like this perhaps?" She turns a torso mannequin towards Melissa displaying a purple corset of embroidered silk edged in delicate black lace.  It's a simple design with a straight bust.  It'll give that nice boost to the feminine assets without displaying anything inappopriate.  "I think this would look nicely with a layered black skirt.  Perhaps we can find a suitable period jacket and I think a feminine top hat.  And I already have some ideas for suitable jewelry."

She steps around Melissa and brushes the hair back from the other woman's neck.  "Some black pearls and amethysts around the throat.  Black crystal teardrop earrings.  Smokey amethyst eyeshadow.  Yes, I think we can doll you up quite nicely."  Morgana smiles something that's more than friendly girly girl interest but far less than sexual hunger.  Maybe its just an appreciation of beauty like any artist.  

--Last edited by Morgana LaRue on 2009-11-03 00:48:30 --

Regardless of Morganas motives its no secret I am loving the attention. Morgana would be hard pressed not to notice the faint heat from my flesh. The dead always notice it, if she didnt know of me or my sire she might swear I was still alive.

'I like that. I like that alot.'

I fixate on the corset for a moment, apparently completely comfortable with the other womans uninvited hands on me. A small grin overtakes my lips and my head falls mischeviously to one side as I stage whisper back to Morgana and find her eyes in a mirror.

'Any chance we can bill Conrad for all this?..'

My tone suggests its not about the money. I owe Conrad a few headaches after he tried to put me on a cold blood diet. Even if the words barely left his lips before I changed his mind, its the principle of the thing.

'...With a nice tip for all your vision and help, of course.'

Morgana chuckles.  "It's on the house I assure you."  The offer is part simple generosity and camraderie and part a simple fact that it would be more than inappropriate to bill a harpy's childe.  Especially when Morgana was the one who made the offer.

Striding over to another stand of clothing Morgana pulls out a voluminous black skirt made of tiered layers of crisp cotton alternated with black lace.  "Personally I've always wanted to attend one of those grand old balls.  I think I might have gotten along quite well with Byron and Shelley and their ilk."

Once she's handed the skirt to Melissa its off to a case of jewelry from which she picks a spidery complex of glittering black crystals and amethyst pieces intricately arranged to lay around the throat and collar in sweeping loops.  Next are chosen simple black dangling teardrop earrings.

"Perhaps you should take all these in and try them on and we can accessorize further once we see how it all looks."

Im sure I can find a million other ways to taunt Conrad. Im not that suprised that Morgana wouldnt want to, thats the reaction most people have to him. It works in my favor more often than not. I let Morgana pile each item into my arms as I follow her to and fro.

'I dare say if anyone actually got along with Byron or Shelley they wouldnt be required reading today... but I bet they would have been a trip to drink with.'

I flash a winning smile. I may come across as a tart but I did my stint at the local university. Even if Daddy owns the advertising firm I still needed the degree to justify the position. I hover at the dressing room door, looking back over my shoulder at Morgana.

'Ill need some slutty shoes.'

Morgana almost loses composure and arches a curious eyebrow at Melissa but just controls herself.  She wasn't expecting the young social butterfly to know her Nineteenth Century poets.

She regains her composure quickly enough and there isn't even the sign that Melissa's comment piqued her interest.  "I did have a conversation once with a certain one of your clan who claimed to have been a good friend of Oscar Wilde.  He had quite a few tales to tell."

At Melissa's request for slutty shoes a thoughtful look crosses Morgana's face.  She crosses the shop to the stock of footwear and returns a few minutes later carrying several pairs of heels and boots from simple slingbacks to thick platform heels to knee high patent leather fuck me boots.

"These might be a kick to wear underneath the dress."  She holds up a pair of vinyl boots polished to a shine with buckles and straps adorning its knee high length.  The boots have a sharp stilleto heel and come to a tapered point.  "Perfect for crushing insolent little whelps under your heel" she smirks.

'Which of my clanmates was that?'

I peek my head and bare shoulder out of the dressing room door, curiosity on my face. With one glance I know the boots will be perfect and will reach out a hand to spririt them inside with me.

Morgana waves a hand dismissively though being behind the door of the changing room the gesture is lost on Melissa.  "Oh just a fellow I had met during my brief time in New Orleans.  The way he told it the things the authorities pinned on Wilde were not even the half of what was actually going on.  If they'd known the whole truth that prison sentence would have been the least of his problems."

Outside the changing room Morgana waits patiently for Melissa.  The evening was turning into quite a strangely serendipitous affair.  An observer might tack Morgana's behavior up to obsequious ass kissing.  But Morgana never kissed ass.  It was merely not in her nature.  Of course that didn't exclude hedging bets and padding the nest egg.  It was smart to be polite to all levels of one's peers.  At least until they gave you reason to behave otherwise. A harpy's childe was not so bad an ally to have now was it?

It used to really bother me that I could never tell how old of a Kindred I was speaking with. Morgana is clearly older than I would have thought at first glance. Eitehr that or shes outright lying to me. She wouldnt be the first- but for whatever reason I dont think she is. I am drawn to her, I will definitely have to pick her brain at a later date- especially since shes so involved with my clan.

'What do you think?'

I come out of the dressing room looking like a transformed person. Gone are the heels and the short, trendy dress. I am booted, coretted and adorned in the webbed jewlery and the tiered, lacy skirt. With arms cocked up I hold my hair off the necklace and give a little twirl for Morgana to assess her choices.  

--Last edited by Melissa Moore on 2009-11-09 11:22:47 --

Morgana has always remained cryptic about her age; Melissa is not the only victim.  Its not that she quite consciously witholds the information from others, but like many aspects of her personal life, she is not too forthcoming with the details.  She doesn't really feel the need to divulge such matters, but she doesn't see that opinion as being anything other than that - a simple personal choice.  Maybe its her time among the chantry and its politics that have made her like such.  

"Beautiful," her red lips smile when Melissa steps out.  "Although you'll likely need someone to help you a little more with the corset."  Morgana steps behind Melissa and with a few quick tugs tightens the laces.  "One of the plus sides of not breathing I suppose.  You never have to worry about losing your breath while wearing a corset."  She's no fashion stylist but Morgana takes a few more moments to primp and preen Melissa, giving her makeup tips along the way.

She finds on another rack a black velvet waistcoat with a small set of tails and very feminine lines.  The ensemble will be completed with silk gloves and a top hat in miniature, complete with lacey veil and a small plume of feathers.

Blame my age or whatever quirk of my undead nature that keeps my flesh warm under Morganas touch but I prefer to breathe. Its one of those reflexes people seem to lose, but I most certainly havent yet. I make a quiet noise of discomfort when Morgana cranks down the corset, but it does look great, so I will suffer for it.

'Woo. God, lets hope so.'

After finding just how much I can breathe without ribs breaking I will slip the jacket over my slim shoulders and stuff my hir up under the hat. Checking myself out in a long mirror I will strike a dramatic pose and tell Morgana:

'Your good.'