It's Not a Bar - It's a LOUNGE!

[rassafraggin]

The work on the prominent shop space has been carrying on without stop for a couple weeks now. Strange boxes have come and gone with dramaic 'secrecy' to keep the interest on, but lately, as the opening day nears, it's been less about making a stir and more about getting things done. Jira comes and goes. She's just coming out of a pair of double doors on the exterior of the building, with only a yawning darkness behind her, looking, well, not herself. She looks /tired/, but pleased. She's barely wearing any jewels at all! Only a few threads of gold draped around her. She's hauling out a net of scrap and debris that look like stone, grunting as she tugs at it to try and haul it around the back of the building. Very unrefined.

Swimming along the streets, and occasionally dipping in the slipstream of faster-moving Selkies or Tritons to enjoy a boost of speed, Merrisol overshoots the Grotto by a few dozen feet. A Rebman-version of skidding helplessly around the corner ensues, while his gaze slips back and pins on the siren's activities. After a moment, the man reappears, swimming well against his own slipstream and then breaking free, using a decorative stone column as a launch point to sail him back towards Jira. "May I assist with that, Lady Jira?" he offers, arms out towards the other end of the net.


--[ Jira ]-----------------------------------------------------[ idle 1m ]----
First and foremost, Jira is feminine. She is grace, plush womanly curves, and delicate mein. She would be tallish as women go, but as she has a tail where her legs should be, it is perhaps better to say she is longish. Her tail is an unusual and somewhat startling thing. The scales are inky black with luxurious diaphanous fins at the end and draping down from her hips in the way of beta fish. Most unusual, however, is the way shadow seems to seep from her tail and shroud it like a tangible thing. It twists and licks off of her tail in the water currents like flames and trails her when she moves. Her thick, hip-length hair is unusual for a siren in also being a very dark, glossy black, as are the thin sharp brows stroked above her likewise dark, glassy eyes. Her lips are usually stained to match. Her lashes do so naturally; full black fans lined in thick kohl. Her complexion is lightly bronzed.
The woman is dressed in little of substance and much in ornament. Bangles and chains, coins and bells, hoops and loops, precious metals and gems decorate her ears, throat, wrists and ankles, her arms and hips and waist. There are even beads in the small braids woven throughout her hair made of whole gems, and many faceted jewels to dangle or be set on her brow and around her eyes. Vibrant flowers in blood red on thorny twisting stems have been tattooed down her side and along her arms. The only article she wears that might be considered clothing is a scarf or sash around her hips, and even that appears to be for the sole purpose of holding a small black blade rather than providing modesty.

-----------------------------------[ female pbg no-chatter trouble-yay/5 ]----

Jira glances up to watch Merrisol's acrobatics with a dry purse to her lips. As he swims her way, it turns more to a grin as she notes, "You're getting better at that, Captain." Glancing to the sack, she considers it before offering it over. "Remnants from the remodeling process." She cracks a sly grin as she looks back toward the doors, vented to ease the pull against the water pressure, then looks back to Merrisol. "If you can help me get this around back I will show you how it's coming along. I believe it is nearly done."

"Thank you. Merely jogging around the block topside has quite lost its appeal," Merri offers, readily sinking to the ground to lever the weight of the rubble upwards rather than attempting to pull the mesh upwards. "Done. And.. done? That is fast work.. did I hear right that it is a drinking establishment?" He stops talking to get more of himself between the sack and the tiled pathway, exerting force downwards with his legs and hefting it higher by turns until it sits ungainly but solid upon his shoulder. From there, he follows where Jira tugs.

"Perhaps if the other joggers topside dressed as Rebmans the jogging might be more interesting," she teases. "Have you heard that?" Jira muses, glancing back with a little laugh as she flits forward, finding it all much easier without the net dragging the ground. "I suppose it was inevitable that some of the help would talk, or someone might have managed a glimpse in." Around back, she drops the net, next to other nets of much the same contents. "There...With that done, some and give me your opinion. The only thing it's really missing is a bar tender at this point. I am speaking with a few men for the position but have not made my mind up yet." She twists to swim half lying back, facing Merri, as she speaks, leading the way back toward the doors.

Throwing the junk from his shoulder with a huff of bubbles, Merrisol surveys the heap of debris, out of sight, out of mind? He leaves the ground almost immediately with release of weight, toes trailing and then no contact, as he turns in place with a twist of hips and jut of knee, sending him forward after her. "The drink-mixing process is a precarious process here - one slipped squeeze and it's the same watered-down rum as in the bars along harbour front," he remarks, gaze centered on her face while his periphery takes in the details of black flowing hair and tail. Taking a place at her side as he takes the corner, he resumes a more upright posture when he gets to the doors, where he pauses to go in last. "I believe I first overheard it from the Prince Regent himself."

"Worse, it's watered down with salt water," Jira chuckles as she opens one of the doors. She twists around and leads him through a tunnel. Not a hallway, definitely a tunnel. It's rounded and rocky and quite dark once the door closes. It runs the length of the building and as Jira swims on ahead, her dark coloring might get lost in the shadows, but it's a straight shot until it bends around to open up on the lounge proper, where she waits just inside for him. "I had told him I mean to bring what no dry realm has to the forefront, and remind the people of Rebma's own gems. It's good to hear he is spreading the word though. Gossiping Princes carry more weight than gossiping urchins."

His bright eyes trace the contours of the passage, and then the convex window from streetside, as though attempting to make the connection between the darkness before him and the hints of light through glass. Then he propels through the door and lets it stand open or close without his assistance. As darkness engulfs all reflection and leaves him with just a bare impression of contours, he keeps a hand extended before him to keep collisions to a minimum. The illuminated bend is truly the light at the end of the tunnel, the frown of concentration lightening along with it.

--[ The Grotto(#7318RJ0) ]---------------------------------------[ Rebma ]----

The Grotto has become just that. Patrons are transported out of the
city and to an mysterious grotto in the deeps. The walls, ceilings,
and floors have all been modeled to look like rough hewn stone,
turning the large room into a cavern. Liberal use of mirrored surface
worked into the contours of the rock like veins in marble play tricks
on the eye and make the space seem even larger and more disorienting
than it truly is. A single large, curved floor to ceiling window lines
the street facing sides of the cavern. It is made of twin layers of
smoked glass with squid ink and oil twisting between them, swirling in
perpetually changing designs that let very little light in, and very
few glimpses of the interior out.

Interconnected pressurized glass columns stand around the cavern house
exotic bioluminescent fish and jellyfish taken from depths most would
be crushed in before they could enjoy the alien colors and designs.
Phosphorescent algae grows along nets draped along the roof of the
cavern, casting a blue, purple, and green glow around the room.
Delicate twisted prisms hung from the nets slowly spin in the currents
and cause the multi-color light to slowly shift along the dark walls.

Alcoves along the back wall offer a place for private rendezvous,
while an open lounge is arranged around a small stage backed to the
curve in the unique window. The bar takes up most of the remaining
stone wall.

A broad archway beside the bar leads through a dark tunnel to mundane
doors that open on the street.

Jira and Merrisol are here.

--[ views, lhelp ]-----------------------------------------[ Exits: None ]----

Things that can be viewed:
Alcoves Bar Stage and lounge

A series of small, intimate alcoves have been set into the back wall like a line of miniature caverns. Each one has a ledge shaped into the stone all the way around the alcove for resting on, ringing a rise of flat topped rock in the center. Large pieces of magnetic lodestone in these rocks-turned-tables keep the light metallic vessels the drinks are served in from drifting or rolling away. Curtains of colorful seaweed and kelp growing from the rock over each alcove can be let down to provide privacy from the rest of the club.
One wall is dedicated to a very large semi-circle bar, large enough for a triton to work comfortably behind it. It looks as though it were raised right out of the floor, sharing the same stone and mirror motif as the rest of the room. It's surface is inlaid with an intricate, life size lodestone mosaic of a siren lounging along the bar. There are no stools, but there are padded fold-away crescent shape arms all the way around the outside to lounge in and keep from drifting too far away. Rather than shelves, the stock is kept in nooks and niches in the wall behind the mirrored bar, or hung in nets hanging from the ceiling.
Coral has been coaxed to grow in the form of chaises, armchairs, and loveseats from the floor, each one upholstered with plush, dappled chocolate brown sealskin cushions. The seating arrangements are each centered around a rise of stone set with lodestone mosaics. The clusters of seating are in turn arranged around a low stone stage set into the curve of the large window and backed by interlocking stalagmites and stalactites swarmed with the glowing, multi-color alga. It makes for a surreal ambient light to silhouette whoever might be on the stage.

Jira is talking, but try as he might to face and attend her, his eyes are drawn away to the ceiling, traveling in constant paths of notice: Following the shimmer and flash of crystal, meandering down an aquarium column, ranging out identify the dark recesses in the far wall, and presently dialing back in to focus more on the illusion of height and scope, realizing they are mirrors. His jaw gets unconsciously tighter along the edge, but he is finally able to return his attention directly to his host. "Beg your pardon.." He blinks a few times, clearing the after-images of moss patterns from his gaze. "Do you mean something other than the setting.. which is. Nicely done. Really, Lady Jira. It is... well for a few moments I forgot we are in a building which I'm positive looked squarish from the outside.. within the city limits."

Jira is positively tickled watching Merrisol take in the establishment, but she contains it in a tight smile and a dip of her head. "The setting is the gem. Hidden places in the deeps, the way we do things here, the things we use. I wanted the place to be purely...Rebman." She flits up and over the bar, little a little dwarfed by the size of it. "It is. Squarish that is. But That's nothing a little optical illusion and sculpting couldn't cure." In one of the nearby columns, something that looks quite like an ugly ole angler is eyeballing Merrisol from the other side of the glass, the little glowy dangling bit bobbing back and forth.

Merrisol drifts backwards a bit to be clear of the elusive wash of inks as the siren moves barwards, then looks towards the stage and tabled area surrounding it. Presuming to wander instead of following her, he launches in that direction, but stops short as he starts to pass one of the columns and looks to find himself confronted with a ferociously grumpy fish face. The glowy tidbit reflects in his widened stare, before Merri cuts his gaze the other way and turns his back on the creature. Better luck next time, fisherfish. He lowers to the floor a little more in order to put his hand on the mosaic, sampling the tactile experience of the thoughtful detail. "Purely Rebman.." he nods slowly. "Interesting term.. when you factor in the diversity of species." Skimming along the breadth of the stage, he gazes beyond the smoky glass or tries to, his gaze continually drawn upwards to the motes of blue or purple light reflected in the curves. He does make his way over to the bar, skirting around the coral furniture rather than vaulting over any in his path. "And your .. day job? Will that keep you from the every-day running of the business, or is this you.. settling down?" he inquires with a smile, one hand steadying his drift at the edge of the bar across from her.

"I expect the selkies will not appreciate the upholstery," she remarks regarding the species when he passes by the coral furnishing. There's an amused grin at the corner of her mouth though. "I will likely find someone to handle the business affairs. Baron Crispin is good with books, or Ambassaor Tegan, she is good at keeping things in order. Or someone I haven't met yet. I'll find someone to manage it for me so I won't be tied to it." She goes about pulling different bottles to slip the nozzles into the other seals and mixes up something taking on a purplish hue inside the self sealing bottle. As she turns to the bar and sets it on the mosaic surface, she lets go so that it just sort of drifts, until it gets close to the stonework and is pulled down, the decorative metal work around the base and up the sides attracting and clinking on the stone. "There's traveling to do, company to be, shoulders to lighten." She pauses for a moment before adding, "I never heard of whether it was decided if the ship you crew would find use of my skillset."

Merri turns his profile to her while she's concocting, looking down the length of the curving bar structure at the way the inset mirror glass creates the illusion of entry into mosaic passages. Hearing the clack, he glances back to see the bottle, and his brow smooths again. Looking back to her as she replies to his question, he smiles acceptingly. "I haven't either.. my background is piratical," he admits, reaching for the container to tip it studiously, his gaze flickering down its length before returning to her unusual eyes. "And while my ship was apparently non-traditional of roster, there was still no room spared for feminine favour. Not good for crew morale, or so the logic goes. I know Captain Flame wants your likeness for the Wave Dancer's figurehead, although she hasn't found an artisan for the contract as yet. I'll broach the topic with her for the idea of a retainer position, at least... it's not always but we have recently been to a shadow local in which enhanced social grace might changed some outcome. As it was, we were handed a reconstruction bill for an entire temple," he merely grins at the shocking bad luck. Like they are used to finding ways out of trouble.. even if it makes even more trouble.

Jira drifts around the bar rather than up and over it this time, sighing, "Feminine favour." She wrinkles her nose and remarks more blandly as she unfolds one of the arms up from the bar, "You make it sound like something that it is not." Her brow arches slightly as she lets her weight settle against the arm, loosely hooked into it. "You destroyed a temple...That doesn't sound the wisest thing to do..." Her lips purse somewhat as her eyes lower and she idly fingers at the scarf bound around her 'hips'. "If there is no call for a sophisticate, there is no call. I will have this place, and a handful of people I alternately play muse for or therapist."

Merrisol's gaze slides questioningly to follow her movement. His arm curls to draw the mixed drink closer, and he pokes whatever sipping end exists past his lips, for a slow taste from the selectively permeable bottle. He pauses a moment to appreciate, then says, "We didn't so much destroy the temple, as free a religious prisoner who proceeded to destroy the temple during his escape.." Ah, but why quibble over technicalities. He looks at her, bottle tipped into his chest for the moment. "If I have misunderstood your calling yet again, Lady Jira.. it is due to the nebulous terminology at work. I lack the devious refinement to sort euphemism from face value, I think. You will forgive me a second time, I hope, for no matter what your job description I respect those who are in control of their own lives."

"I imagine most people misunderstand my calling," she murmurs with a little dismissive wave of her hand. "So long as enough understand it to keep me well kept, I will continue to cope as I have." The drink is mildly sweet, a little bitter, almost citrusy without truly being citrus. It reminds of islands. Jira smiles at him and remarks, "I'll forgive you as many times as you make the mistake and perhaps one day it will dawn on you just what it is I do. Less whore or concubine, more muse, education, and purpose, and you might get closer." She leans out of the arm and scratches at a bit of stay mortar on the mosaic before turning to drift closer. "Of course, for forgiveness, you'll have to do me the favor of whispering in as many ears as possible how striking this place is, and convince them to come when I hold opening night. In the mean time - I have a triton to speak to about hsi ability to mix drinks."

Merri sets the drink down and aside as she speaks, watching her attentively and listening with a marked effort at absorbing the phrases, not that difficult really. His brows flinch at the word 'cope' but his expression stills again. "I will do so, Lady Jira. Please send word when you have set the grand opening, I'll see to the word of mouth," he promises, with a glance to his abandoned drink. He picks it up again. Disposable? He'll take it with him.

Jira waves a hand at the bottle, telling him, "Take it with you. They're not too much. I expect them to be broken from time to time. Be well, Captain, and send my regards to the rest of the crew."

With a last glance around, he offers her a low nod in parting, and leaves quickly.