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Name: J | Gender: Homo Sapien | Age: 35 | Posts: 2,176 | Roses: 0
Old 11-28-2010 at 07:34 PM
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Polaris Ventame

The raucous music drifting into the bar area from the main stage couldn't help but make Polaris' fingers twitch. Something about entering this place always made him hum "Orpheus of the Underworld". Even if that was a rather ill fitting stereotype for the atmosphere of the present day Moulin Rouge. But as much as his fingers danced quickly over the leg of his holey jeans in an absent-minded violin accompaniment of the lively tune, for once he did feel physically moved to yearn to join in. A show nearly every night for months lasting well into the wee hours of the morning... Between his fiddle and his guitar, even his callouses had callouses and they had, on more than one occasion, even been broken and bleed on his strings. Never let it be said that Polaris Ventame didn't "suffer" for his art. But tonight was about the opposite of suffering. It was about enjoying sans suffering, and simply relaxing.

"Bonsoir, monsieur, what can I get for you today?" Polaris glanced up at the waitress as she pushed a loose hair from her face and her gaze drifted pointedly to his shoes in the seat. "This might be a bar, monsieur, but will you please take your feet off the chair, s'il vous plait?" She chided, the admonishment tempered by a sweet smile she flashed him. Polaris' first instinct was to blush and pull his feet back under the table in an effort to show that he hadn't been raised in a barn (just a caravan). But that instinct was quelled slightly by a desire to tease her slightly until she said, "We have a certain image to keep up, you know."

The slightly joking tone of her own comment made Polaris snort a slight laugh as he nodded and gently eased his feet out of the seat and back to the floor with a gesture of surrender. "Oui, and it is quite an image at that," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "It is so very Parisian, is it not, to need to maintain the image of finery and civilization..." he said with a slightly haughty air before his voice dropped to a low joking whisper, "so long as folks don't go peeking behind the wrong curtains or right bathroom stalls... "




Max | Pieter | Polaris | Phoenix | Protagonist | I love Sam <3
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Old 12-03-2010 at 05:54 AM
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Chianna Mimieux

The slight twitch traveled down her pointer finger to the knuckle before inching its way up her next finger. She stopped rolling the pen and wrapped her fingers firmly around it. Oh la la... This boy was something to look at. That was the trouble with working at the Rouge - too many good-looking men came and went. Of course, there was a good number of not so attractive men, but... Chianna was only this picky when she was on the street. In here, of course, she couldn't just pick and choose her customers. She was delighted each time her job - this job, the one that society deemed "acceptable" - brought her to someone that was actually easy on the eyes. She would have to be extra careful. These kind of men - the handsome ones - had the tendency of making her weak... and a little insane. She steadily gripped her pencil and continued to half-smile down at him.

The young man laughed, making the corner of her lip rise up slightly. Handsome and good-humored. Mon Dieu, that combination is going to kill me. Breathe steady and slow, Chianna. Remember, steady and slow. So, steady and slow it was then. If only she could keep this up for the rest of her shift. Why couldn't this customer have come in closer to the end of her shift? Zut alors. You're slipping, Chianna. He slid his feet off the chair now, making is compliance known with a good-natured gesture. "Oui, and it is quite an image at that," He winked. Chianna smiled. She could feel that her expression was not fully reaching her eyes, so she made an effort to make her eyes "smile," too. This human relations thing was so much work. Oh, but that wink was something... Focus, Chianna. Steady and slow.

"It is so very Parisian, is it not, to need to maintain the image of finery and civilization..." Oof, did she know that better than anyone else. And she detested it more than anyone else. But this was her job and she had wanted a little fun to ease her slipping restraint. She found herself leaning just a bit closer when his voice went down into a whisper. "so long as folks don't go peeking behind the wrong curtains or right bathroom stalls... "

Chianna laughed. "You get plenty of that here at Le Rouge, monsieur," she replied with a small wink of her own. Had she just done that? Winked at him? Chianna, you are digging a hole for yourself, you know. I know. Just leave me alone right now. I'll deal with you later. I have work to do. Then why don't you do it? Chianna let out a small, short chuckle and put on a wide smile, hoping it would cover the distress she was feeling at the back of her head.

"Now enough small talk. You must be hungry. What can I get for you?" She couldn't resist leaning her chest back just a little bit, letting her waist slightly just out in front of her so that her body formed a subtle "S" shape. The reasonable portion of her still intact mind was slowly being overrun by the "undesirables," as she liked to think of them. Her mouth was pulled up in nothing less than a flirtatious smile. What are you doing? Hush. I'll be all right. Remember what happened the last time...


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Old 01-04-2011 at 06:28 AM
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 Post [13] »


00C: The song she is blaring. Listen while reading; it's more effective ;)


Teagan Scot

Boom-chee. Boom-chee.

"You got me runnin', goin' outta' ma' mind-" She mouthed the words, while pouring the drink. The bobbing bartender, slid down a glass to the gentleman that, telling by his slumped shoulder, and his glassy red eyes, with the torn up picture of the woman in his wallet that he brought out to pay, was upset over some love, or lack of. "Scotch on the rocks!" Also, the drink was a dead giveaway. The man shifted in his chair by the shout, that Teagan Scot could not really tell how loud it was, due to the fact of her hidden Ipod ear plugs hidden in her red hair, but she cackled, sending out an apologetic wave. It was costumer service at the finest, and all thanks to Electric Light Orchestra. At least, to her that was what it was. To all the outside costumers of the Rouge bar, it looked like she was dancing and mindlessly mouthing words to, well, perhaps the voices in her head? Teagan rose a rock and roll finger, thrashing her head from side to side. It was her favorite part, and she sang along with the long time ago American orchestra, "Oo-wee-oo!" Of course, it was not literature, but the lyrics were incredibly bogus.

A vibrating sensation sent Teagan shifting, so her back was to the costumers. Still swaying to the music that no one else heard, but it was exceedingly more in tune with her taste than this Rouge bull, she slid out her cellular device from her pocket, that along with her Ipod, was serving as her partner in crime tonight. It could very well look like an adolescent teenaged infatuation with the lifestyle of electronics, but to Teagan Scot, it was just the only relief that aided her through the nightly shifts at the bar. Which, would not be for too long. Soon, she would be a full time journalist, and she would never have to handle alcohol for as long as she lived. At least, that was the plan. But, Teagan made many plans, and all the plans she made, she planned on following through with.

Flipping up the screen, she read the new incoming text message from: Daddio.

'Baby genius- have a good night at work. Let me know if I have to kick someone's ass. K? ;-() '

Obviously, daddy Teagan needed some major education on text smilies, but he was quite the over achiever in texting, generally speaking. Teagan laughed, not hearing it through her music, and replied to him. Texting her father was apart of her days. He was the closest thing she ever had, and will ever have. They had become texting buddies since his leave to London, and it had become this ritual. A text in the morning, a hearty conversation, a few jokes, and a text goodnight. Phone calls were a must, but texts were perhaps one of the greatest creations, besides sliced white bread and peanut butter. She could keep in touch with her best friend all day.

With her back still faced to the costumers, Teagan Scot replied to her dad's text, still thumping to ELO's greatest hit. Well, at least to her it was.


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Old 01-04-2011 at 07:14 AM
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 Post [14] »


Lucian Michaud

He’d initially intended to support the Paris Opera House. And, technically, Lucian still did. But he found himself patronising the Moulin Rouge far more than the Palais Garnier. If he told Natalie, she would have been scandalised. They’d come here once—ages ago—and she’d hated it. She’d called it touristy and kitschy. Admittedly, Lucian hadn’t agreed or disagreed with her then. He just felt that it was something they ought to do while in Paris. After all, when in Rome... But after only a month in Paris, Lucian had come to love the Moulin Rouge. It was a five minute walk from his apartment on the Hameau des Artistes and that was his excuse for frequenting it. But the real reason he kept coming back was due to take stage soon. He told himself he was her support because her father wasn’t supportive and Damien was too far away to offer his applause. But when the lights dimmed and Lucian faded into the crowd, his eyes watched Ashton Greene intensely and he knew that he came as much for his own enjoyment as her mental health. She knew he was there—he walked her home on those dark, late nights she worked. But Ashton didn’t need to know he was the one cheering loudest, or clapping hardest, or whistling above the din of the crowd. Lucian was beyond thankful for the lighting techs who dimmed the seating area and blinded performers onstage. After a few performances in, Lucian meandered to the bar. He’d know the sound of Ashton’s voice. She’d been living in his house since Christmas Day. If he didn’t recognize it, Lucian would have qualified for The World’s Most Oblivious Man award, if such a thing existed. And while he waited for the familiar sound to overtake the auditorium, he would get a drink or two to pass the time.

He watched as a barmaid danced around to a tempo that was out of sync with what played from the stage. Her red hair whipped about, but that was all Lucian—or anyone else at the bar—could see of her. The woman’s back was to them all and she seemed just as oblivious to her customers as she did to the goings-on a few yards away. Lucian cleared his throat and lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood of the bar.

“Buchanan’s, on the rocks.”
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Old 01-16-2011 at 04:25 AM
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OoC: for Ran with Cam!!! Welcome back!! BiC:

Ashton Greene

The Rouge lights were hot on her face, but the sweat sliding down her face was as cool as the liquor she was planning on downing. It had been a long, fun night. Her fingers felt the odd, but wonderful numb sensation she was all too familiar with. Tonight was her night to play. Not dance. Hammering those keys with grace and precision was a nice break for her toes that slapped the floor with the same skill and gusto every preceding night. It was someone else’s turn to sparkle in the limelight while Ashton sat in the dimmer lighting, accompanying the performer.

As she played, Ashton picked out parts she would’ve done differently to Lady Gaga’s “Paper Gangster”. For one, she would’ve put the “er” at the end of this woman’s “gangsta”. She would’ve had sharper moves, tacked on judicious vibrato, careful not to over do it on this piece. She would’ve had sharp, crisp diction. But Ashton had to remind herself that tonight was her night to play. Not dance. It was a good piano piece anyways.

But it was over now and it was someone else’s turn to play. Ashton sat at the Rouge bar, showed her employee card, and ordered “her usual”.

She wasn’t actively seeking out conversation, but she wasn’t avoiding it either. She swivelled her chair to face the person next to her. “Have you enjoyed the show?”

It was in Ashton’s nature to be friendly and outgoing and, above all, loud. She greeted the world with a loud, exclamatory entrance. It was the world’s privilege to have her in it, and she made sure the other inhabitants were aware of that, even if it was as simple as an attempt of meaningless small talk at a bar.


If I can't hear the music, and the audience is gone,

I'll dance here on my own.


Banners by Rose, my sister, and me.
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Name: Ran | Gender: Female | Age: 28 | Posts: 1,118 | Roses: 84
Old 01-16-2011 at 08:10 AM
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 Post [16] »


Cameron Taylor

So. Many. Women. To. Stare. At. She knew that when you were at Moulin Rouge seeing a performance that staring was very much so expected and though she had told herself she wasn't going to be like the many spectators, she had given up that notion the moment she walked in the door and saw a scantily clad woman run across the room. And now, after seeing the show, she had quickly walked over to the bar to order a shot which was already gone and she was now nursing her usual drink. As she drank, she wondered what the chances were of finding some of those performers. It would be like picking up ballet tarts at the Opera except way better because obviously, these women would not be naïve like so many at the Opera were. She quite liked the atmosphere here. No one was innocent it seemed and she liked that feeling. Her outfit, though not as nonexistent as some of the dancers, was still revealing. Her jeans clung to her body and she simply wore a vest with nothing under it which showed off her toned stomach and arms. She already gotten looks, some approving and some out of confusion, another occurrence she was used to by now. Her androgyny was a part of her appeal.

As was usual with Cam, she liked to watch her surroundings which is why she noticed from her peripheral the blonde that sat down beside her. She also watched as the woman slipped an employee card to the bartender, sliding it across the surface of the bar. She discreetly read it in the low lit light being trained as she had and she smirked to herself as she read the name of the girl. Ashton Greene. When she decided to speak to her, the girl would most likely not even remember sliding her card to the bartender, much less that anyone could read the small fine print on it except the bartender who had squinted down at it. She tried to pay attention to the drink the woman ordered but realized the bartender already knew what she wanted. She even attempted to watch the bartender pour the drink but he did so with his back to them and so it was an impossible feat. She wondered briefly if employee's here were given free drinks. Regardless, she would buy “Ashton” a drink, the notion would serve it's purpose well enough.

She was just about to turn her chair to speak to the blonde, already turning over the words she was going to say when she was caught off guard, “Have you enjoyed the show?” The words, though a simple phrase, were said with a boldness that suggested the blonde was full of confidence. She grinned before turning at the confidence of the blonde. As she turned to face the woman, the grin was replaced with a smirk of sorts, one that she knew usually had a way with women. “I suppose I've seen better...” and she shrugged, feigning a lack of interest as she took a sip of her drink however she quickly turned back to face the blonde and grinned playfully, “Just kidding. It's the first time I've attended and I definitely wasn't disappointed with the show...” and she made sure to make eye contact with Ashton, making note of the blue she found there, “or the company after, Ashton.”


I just wanna be alone now with the dark and the light. That's my favorite color blue there

As the sun sets in the sky, there's just something in the hue there in the corner of my eye
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Old 01-26-2011 at 06:37 AM
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 Post [17] »


OCC: Open Thread
Bella Grace


Late hours, Bella was used to that but the smell of alcohol and the loudness that surrounded her... she didn't think she'd ever get used to that. The bar however was a great place for a scene in a play. The drunken fools spilling their secrets and how many had she heard tonight? From people cheating and lucky men drinking their last drink before getting married (Some being the same person) to huge secrets that SHOUD be in a soap opera.

Bella had been serving drinks all night, her mind rather focused on the stories that ran through her head. In her mind she saw: a women sitting at the bar, a drink in hand though it went untouched. She was drowning her sorrows and a broken heart thinking she'd never know love again (not that she had known it in the first place)

That was as far as Bella got before she was snapped out of her thoughts by someone demanding her time and a drink. Pouring it she felt like Myra in 'Dr Quinn Medicine Women' in a strange sort of way 'entertaining' the guests but in a different way to what that women did.

Still after pouring the drink for the man he didn't seem ready to leave.

"Not another fool, trying to pick me up" Bella couldn't help thinking to herself but smiling anyway trying to get around the man hearing a breaking of glass and a fight starting up.

"Great"

Picking up the tools she worked with throughout the day walking to then bend down she started upon the glass.

"Shattered like the broken pieces of my life" she mumbled under breath before blood started to spill.


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Name: MystMoonstruck aka Cyn | Gender: REDHEAD! | Posts: 5,059 | Roses: 235
Old 01-26-2011 at 10:07 AM
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 Post [18] »


Kasim Nikolos
aka Dorian Grayson


The man sometimes known as Dorian Grayson had carefully fashioned tonight's persona. This evening, he was Kasim Nikolos, whose mongrel background should add to his aura of mystery, something he cultivated for many of his personalities. The more names out there, the less likely one could be tracked down. He preferred being the tracker, the predator, the aggressor~unless he was in one of his rare moods. Tonight... Well, he actually hadn't settled on the exactness of the role. He wore black~good suit, lifted from someone's closet at one party or another; black T-shirt, purposely at odds with the suit; black leather shoes but not shined to a high polish; and, quite incongruous, a butterscotch-and-black tasseled scarf gifted to him by a dancer he had spontaneously partnered at an out-of-the way club, one of those that might be termed a dive, accessed by walking down shadowed stairs, below street level, the sort of place the Lost Generation might have frequented though he doubted any writers there now ever would grace a bookshelf. Too often, they were much too aware, too determined to be bohemian to ever be such a denizen.

Then, his reverie was shattered by the sound of breaking glass, and he looked to where someone had hurried to clean up the mess. Perhaps it was his custodial duties at Opera Populaire, but, without thinking, he reached her side, going to one knee, too late to stop her from picking up the shard that dealt her a painful cut, causing him to hiss in sympathetic pain even as he reached into a pocket to withdraw a black kerchief embroidered with the initials from which he had forged his name. Grasping the injured hand, he quickly looped the handkerchief around it before taking over cleanup, managing to escape injuty himself because he happened to be excellent at dealing with sharp objects: knives, broken bottles when in battle, and, of course, shattered glass. He was quite dexterous that way.

In his oddly accented, melodious voice, Dorian/Kasim asked, "We must get that bandaged, yes?"

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Old 01-27-2011 at 12:25 AM
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Bella Grace

It was strange how strong the human body was and yet also weak all at the same time. It could scare so easily by a harsh word, a curl twist of fate... or in this case, a broken bit of glass.

As Bella had knelt to start sweeping up the pieces she had not seen a sharp point as she tried to keep one eye on her work and the other on the fight that still hadn't been stopped. Now it wasn't as if she hadn't bleed before but it seemed to be a calling card to some one's soft hiss of sympathy and a strong yet soft hand that took hold of hers.

For a moment the glass lay forgotten as Bella's dark eyes looked up no doubt changing already by the given light. The soft hand pulled out a make shift bandage wrapping it around her hand before taking over her job.

She wanted to protest, say that this man before her was out of place but thank him all at the same time, maybe she would have if she had the guts but she remained silent he the first to speak.

"We must get that bandaged, yes?"

"I guess I should" Bella supplied in answer rethinking over his first word of 'we' was it not up to her to deal with her hand? And she could do it on her own. "Thank you for your help"

And with that she started to get up taking the remains of the glass away from the man and putting them into the bust pan she had brought with her before trying to make her yet a way.



OCC: Hope that last bit is okay and that Kasim will follow her. I just thought that Bella is very shy around men... or anyone else for that matter.


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Name: MystMoonstruck aka Cyn | Gender: REDHEAD! | Posts: 5,059 | Roses: 235
Old 01-27-2011 at 06:40 AM
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 Post [20] »


Kasim Nikolos
aka Dorian Grayson


"We must get that bandaged, yes?" He had made certain that he was looking into her eyes when he made the suggestion, very pleased to see that she was exceptionally beautiful, particularly for a woman expected to do such a menial duty. All right... He understood the irony there, knowing that he himself was not the average janitor. But, tonight, he was not such a person but someone exotic, an adventurer, a man of many talents though temporarily impecunious (much better than merely saying poor). But, first, he would help clean up this mess.

"I guess I should," the woman conceded, and he wasn't certain but thought she might be saying that she did not require his help. Perhaps she saw this as an attempt at a pickup and possibly had someone. "Thank you for your help."

At least she had shown some gratitude before departing with her burdens, with Dorian~ahem~Kasim following in her wake. After all, he was quite comfortable in such an environment, having served as a bartender at many a party. Without hesitation, he joined her as she began tending to the small wound, helping her bandage it then retrieving the kerchief, folding it into a tiny bundle to stash in a pants pocket for laundering later.

"May I help you?" he wondered, thinking that she might have fallen behind while otherwise occupied. "I have bartended. If not..." He shrugged slightly, indicating that her refusal would not disturb him. "I shall be a customer and place an order~that is, if you do not require help." The jade eyes studied her, curious if it was coolness or shyness that kept her aloof, for he had seen no sign of interest. The challenge intrigued him as he claimed a place at the end of the counter so that he could watch her as she worked, noting the attention she was receiving from numerous customers. While she did not overtly rebuff them, her cool manner discouraged any suitors, meaning he was not the exception, which was promising.

Tonight, he was the predator, and he had sighted his prey. Now to consider his approach. First up was to take his drink and go, to not hover. He had pressed his luck by following her but hoped that his retreat had set her at ease. When it was his turn to order, he knew what he must have, nothing exotic, something at odds with his appearance: "Bailey's Irish Cream." Yes, it was best to keep it simple. Why stress the poor girl?

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