Don't care if it's wrong or if it's right.

[ I have no real explanation other than I needed to write this out. I might do a part II? Who knows. Anyways, bonus points if you catch the TV show reference. ]

“You’re doing it wrong,” Irene mumbled, moving behind Ezra to grasp onto his hips. Cheeks flushing, he jerked in her grasp. A snort escaped the older courtesan as she pressed herself against his back. Despite being shorter than he was, her grip was far stronger. Slowly, she began to move his hips, her own body moving with him. “Remember, you aren’t a dying fish. The serpent is who you need to invoke. Seduce, draw them in. Draw him in. If you do, he will take you to his rooms. If he does, you will have to entertain.” She murmured into his ear, watching as a shudder worked its way down his spine. Slowly, she drew her arms around his waist, forcing him to mimic her movements.

“Watch.” She commanded, pressing a hand to middle of his stomach, drawing his gaze down to study the way she moved his hips. “Whenever you dance for the Count, you keep you gaze straight ahead, only on him. You may look at the Countess, but your gaze must return to him.” Lips brushing against his neck, she met his surprised gaze in the reflection. “Do you understand?” Hands dropping, she stepped back, watching as Ezra ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted, stepping back to all but collapse onto the mound of pillows on the floor. She followed, settling upon her knees beside him. “Not of the dance, but of what could… Come after.” A hum came from the other side of the pile as Zathael rolled over, golden hues studying the pair.

“The Count has an insatiable hunger, but he isn’t that bad. It isn’t your first time, so I wouldn’t be too worried.” He murmured lazily, stretching himself out like a cat lazing in the sun.

“… Show him.” Irene suddenly demanded, making both men jump. Two pairs of wide eyes studied her, before the golden pair narrowed. Slowly, Zathael sat up before crawling over to Ezra, who looked rather startled.

One leg swung over his hips before the elder of the two settled down upon his hips. Ezra swallowed harshly before looking away, cheeks flushed a charming crimson. “No, Phoenix,” Zathael murmured, reaching down to take hold of his chin. “You must look in his eyes always.” Releasing his chin, Zathael relaxed himself, a hand smoothing down Ezra’s middle. “Love comes in at the eyes.”

“It is said,” he began, finger tips just barely brushing against the younger’s ribs, “that the Count has traveled across the lands, conquered many kingdoms and clans. Fought many wars, and had even more lovers. And yet, there is a chance,” he paused, linking his fingers with Ezra’s before slowly leaning down, their noses almost brushing, “that he will take you. And if that happens, you must do your best to please him, lest you leave the palace a disappointment.”

“Duly noted,” Ezra managed to gasp out, ruby hues fluttering before he looked away. “I… I don’t think that he would want me atop.” He admitted shyly, brows furrowing.

“You will make him like it. You are the Phoenix, rising from the ashes,” Zathael shot back, sitting up and placing Ezra’s hands upon his hips. “Men want what they’ve never had, and the Count has never had anyone like you. Tell me, Ezra, are you a common whore?” He asked, hips starting a slow grind. A shake of the head was all the answer he received, and all that he needed. Smirking, he braced himself, leaning back slightly. “Then don’t make love like a whore.” The words were harsh, but needed, for the next moment, Esra’s grip tightened, his legs lifted, and he flipped the older courtesan onto his back, settling between his thighs.

A startled laugh escaped Zathael as he grinned. “Very good, Ezra,” he complimented breathlessly, watching as Ezra’s face lit up with a pleased smile. “Out there, he is the Count of Vesuvia. But within his chambers, he will be yours.” The sound of applause made both men look over, watching as Irene shook her head, amused.

“The Phoenix needs to dress for his dance now. The Count, and his Court, await.”

The Palace was intimidating to see from outside the gates, but to go inside was a whole new world. Swallowing down his nerves, Ezra rode beside Irene and the contortionist, Indella. The carriage slowed to a stop, and a moment later, it was opened by a palace guard. Irene stepped out first, sheer skirts of emerald and onyx layered atop bell-shaped emerald trousers catching the glimmer of the setting sun. He followed her out, sharp hearing catching the soft gasp from ahead. Gold danced across his skin, intermingling with the deep red henna that crawled up his arms. The veil he wore was gold as well, and despite being translucent, it did a damn good job of keeping the attention on his eyes, the only part of his face not hidden by the thin fabric. He wore no shirt, instead carrying golden Isis wings as a makeshift shawl, and wore a skirt of thin, long layers of red and gold over red trousers. Coins lined the belt, creating a chime every time he moved.

They were certainly a sight to see.

The trio walked arm in arm up the staircase and into the grand hall, taking in the sight within with wide eyes. Dignitaries and royals from all over loitered the edges of the ballroom floor, and at the very front sat the Count and Countess. Irene stopped them, unlinking their arms to drop into a low curtsey, Indella and Ezra quickly following in a curtsey and bow. Their stage names were called out in a loud, booming voice: “From the esteemed Lumière du Soleil Couchant, I present: The Spider, The Bird of Paradise, and the Phoenix!” Soft applause greeted them as they rose, and together, the trio made their way towards the sidelines. Their time would come.

“Consul Valerius,” Irene greeted, bowing slightly at the man. Ezra looked him over subtly- long hair, wine, and a look caught between anger and… Relief? Brow raising, he glanced over at his coworker. “May I introduce our newest entertainer- Phoenix.” Ezra stepped forward, bowing low at the waist.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Consul Valerius,” Ezra greeted in a soft voice, receiving barely even a nod of approval. Jaw clenching, he stepped back as Irene began to talk, observing the rest of the court. It was interesting, certainly…

Two hours and a glass of wine later, it was time. Taking calming, deep breaths, he made his way to the center of the floor, gaze slowly lifting to meet with the Count’s own ruby hues. A smirk curled his lips as the sound of darbuka drums began to fill the air. Hips moving in time with the beat, slow, slow, quick. Slow, slow, quick. Arms drifting over his head as the beat sped up before starting to slow, he kept his gaze locked upon Lucio’s.

As he turned, he allowed himself a quick glance at the rest of the room; all eyes on him. Smirking to himself, he slowly lowered himself into a backbend, arms stretching out above him, fingertips just brushing the floor before he brought himself up slowly, the muscles of his abdomen constantly working. The poles of the Isis wings slid into his hands, and he brought them up slowly, as if they were truly the wings of his namesake. Gasps erupted as he spread them out, the brilliant mixture of red and gold gleaming like fire in the light. Arms constantly moving, body constantly turning, the performance was over before he knew it. He’d ended upon the ground, legs splayed out to form an ‘M’, his spine arched gracefully, shoulders barely touching the ground, and the Isis wings spread out beside him. Applause greeted him, and slowly, he rose, bowing before the Count and Countess.

Absconding the floor, he couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped him as Indella pulled him into a tight embrace. “Ya did so good!” She whispered, but froze a moment later. Quickly releasing him, she turned him herself as a servant approached.

“The Count wishes for you to join him,” the woman spoke slowly, and Ezra felt his heart skip a beat. Nodding, he glanced over his shoulder, searching for Irene but not finding her. Chin raising, he relaxed his shoulders and handed the Isis wings over to Indella. Breathe in, breathe out. He had to remind himself to relax as he followed the woman out of the grand ballroom, down a servant’s passage, and into the upper wing. This was happening, he realized as he studied the deep red walls and golden accents. It was truly happening.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

             •"and all ι ever wanт ιѕ jυѕт a lιттle love.“•

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

naмe: Zathael Ilrū

ѕтage naмe: Panther

━━━━━━━━━━━━       вιograpнιcal

       ιnғorмaтιon ━━━━━━━━━━━━

нoмe: Vesuvia

age: 26

вιrтнday: 9/29

zodιac: Libra

aғғιlιaтιon(ѕ): Lumière du Soleil Couchant (Brothel) [Translation: Sunset Glimmer)

occυpaтιon(s): Entertainer, Courtesan

━━━━━━━━━━━━           pнyѕιcal

        deѕcrιpтιon ━━━━━━━━━━━━

race: Human

gender: Male

нaιr color: Chestnut brown, with long bangs. He keeps it cut short, but messy; it’s thick and looks like it’s in a constant state of bedhead. But it’s also surprisingly soft.

eye color: Golden red

нeιgнт: 5'10”

weιgнт: 160 lbs.

мarιтal ѕтaтυѕ: Single

orιenтaтιon: Pansexual

weapon(ѕ): Stilettos he keeps strapped to his thighs for self defense.

•Small vial of nightshade.

ѕpecιal мarĸιngѕ: Scar over his right eye from an accident when he was a child.

мaĸeυp: Golden eye shadow whenever he preforms, along with black kohl liner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━           ғavorιтeѕ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

ғood: Murgh Kari

drιnĸ: Spiced Rum and Ginger Ale

ғlower: Black Hellebore

━━━━━━━━━━━━         perѕonalιтy ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•Confident: He’s been in the business longer than Ezra has, and thus, is far more confident in his skin. He knows how to move to catch attention, how to hold himself without seeming like he’s trying too hard.

•He learned early on how to get what he wants. He enjoys toying with people, enjoys watching them try to figure out his riddles.

•Refuses to talk about his past. His years before working at the Lumière are dark, and he’d rather leave them in the past.

•He’s an upper tier Courtesan; most of his time is spent lazing about or teaching the younger ones how the world works. He’ll take in customers that hold no title occasionally, if he’s feeling like it.

•He’s not particularly close to any of the main six, truth be told. If anyone, it’d be Julian- primarily due to having to visit his clinic after spending a night with the count. He likes the Doctor- he’s interesting. Different from the men he’s used to being around. He likes listening to his stories.

•Asra is a constant curiosity. It’s the magic that drew him in initially, but the soft voice and aura of mystery that had him hooked in the end. He still maintained his distance- he had to. He didn’t want things to become tangled like Ezra and the Count.

•The Count is not his favorite. He worries for Ezra and for his infatuation. But he knows the boy can handle himself… But the Count can be rude, and harsh, and he’s felt the biting grip of that metal hand far too many times. The Countess, however, remains as a blessing. He enjoys being in her company. He’s not as close to them as Ezra is, however.

━━━━━━━━━━━━              нιѕтory ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•His mother and father were artists, his mother, a painter, his father, a sculpter. However, both were taken by an illness when Zathael was just a boy. Orphaned at a young age, Zathael spent much of his childhood living in the streets and stealing food. He was taken in by Madame LeFerr when he was nine years old, after she’d caught him trying to steal a silk scarf so he could sell it for food.

•It was shortly after he was taken in when the Incident occurred. He’d gone to the market when he was cornered, and acting on instinct, tried to run. This ended with him on his back and some boys over him, beating him. One had a shard of glass, and used it to cut him. It’s a wonder he didn’t lose his eye. Madame LeFerr was furious when he came back, but did her best to clean him up and tend to the wound. He wasn’t allowed back to the markets after this.

•The Madame taught him seduction first, how to move his body, how to bat his eyelashes, how to smile like you’ve got a secret. After he mastered that, she then taught him how to woo the Court. By age sixteen, he was already receiving positive feedback. He didn’t officially start to work until he was eighteen, and by then, he’d risen in the ranks. By twenty, he was wooing the Court almost nightly.

•She brought in an entertainer to teach him how to use the Cyr. The large metal hoop had been difficult to learn at first, and even more difficult to control. It became his main form of entertainment when he wasn’t working as a courtesan. His flexibility is what prompted this. Ever since he was a child, he was extremely flexible, going as far as being able to perform certain contortion movements. It’s thrilling, the quick movements, feeling as if he were gliding through air. It takes a lot of strength, both upper and lower body, to control it. He had the choice to learn the German Wheel, but declined, stating that he’d rather stick with the Cyr and perfect it.

•He’s different from Ezra and the other workers in the sense that he’s more dominant. He doesn’t lie on his back for just anyone, after all. He prefers to be in control. Of course, there are always exceptions.

•He still has his pick-pocket tendencies about him. If a customer was especially rude, he’ll take something from them that they wouldn’t notice missing until they were far from the Brothel. Madame LeFerr also will occasionally use him as a set of eyes and ears, sending him out to mingle with the crowds, letting him do the talking to get information. He’s good at it, too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━           eqυιpмenт ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•Cyr Wheel

━━━━━━━━━━━━               lιĸeѕ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•The way the sky looks just before sunrise, when the stars have disappeared and the moon is no longer in the sky.

•Festivals! He enjoys how colorful and lively the city becomes, as well as whenever he has the chance to show off, if Madame LeFerr allows it.

•Anything spicy. He lives for the spice.

•Cats! He adores cats. Or crows- they’re so intelligent.

━━━━━━━━━━━━              dιѕlιĸeѕ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•Early mornings. He prefers to sleep in.

•Silence. He cannot stand to sit in silence. It makes his skin crawl.

•Spiders. He has arachnophobia.

━━━━━━━━━━━━        мυѕιcal тнeмeѕ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

•Glass Animals: Toes

•Chilla Quartet: El Tange de Roxanne