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What Not to Wear: Neathy Edition
Topic Started: Aug 11 2017, 03:42 AM (282 Views)
Louis Ferdinand
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In one of the more quiet, upscale areas of Veilgarden, seemingly a world away from the raucous din of the district's (in)famous taverns, honey-dens, and brothes, Louis sat at a sidewalk cafe, smoking an unusually thin and elongated pipe and reading a small, plain looking book entitled A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder. The cafe was modeled to be a near perfect replica of the famous Café de la Paix of Paris, and it, along with the rest of the similarly themed neighborhood in which it was located, was a favorite gathering place for both artists and admirers of the Celestial school. It was also a preferred destination for some of the younger, more fashionable members of high society; those looking to escape the stifling confines of the Palace and experience the freedom offered by Veilgarden, but wary of getting too close to anything truly deviant or degenerate for fear that it might threaten their social standing. This, along with the area's general resemblance to Paris, attracted the presence of some of London's finest couturier houses, eager to market their tastefully radical creations to those whom, unlike the often chronically destitute Bohemians, actually had the income to spend on luxury fashion.

This was what brought Louis to the area. His protégé had made significant progress since he first met her, but she could only go so far without some significant additions to her wardrobe. London had certainly grown more accepting of nontraditional modes of dress since the Fall, but not so accepting that she could go on mimicking her father forever.
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis cocked an amused eyebrow. "Really now? If the Surface is a fabrication, where do you suppose your father and I came from? Or London itself, for that matter?"
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia snorted, looking defensive. "Well. Course it's real. Hard to argue that. But it doesn't feel real. You know?"
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Louis Ferdinand
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"Believe it or not, that's how many people on the Surface feel about the Neath, even after London's fall. When I announced my intentions to travel here to the few members of my family who were willing to tolerate my company, half of them didn't even know what I was talking about. The other half thought I intended to live out my days like some kind of troglodytic anchorite, bound by oath to some cramped, lightless hole in the ground. To them, the Neath was as unreal as the Surface is to you." Louis scoffed.

"To answer your question, yes. Sometimes even I feel like the Surface might not be real." He lazily stretched and retracted his fingers towards the orchid, always stopping just before he touched it. "Despite spending most of my life there, after only a few years in London it sometimes seems like something that could only exist as some fantastic dream-realm, or perhaps a mythical Pure Land hidden beyond the Elder Continent. If your father weren't here to corroborate my memories, I might be inclined to wonder if I simply invented my memories of life before the Neath."
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Felicia Voight
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Felicia nodded, moving closer to the orchid, cracking her knuckles in a most unladylike manner. "Yeah. Father and Auntie Gretchen tell stories too. All the time. Stories about Bavaria, the Voight family. Simple country life. It sounds...odd, really. I dunno. Not like the Neath at all. Not like the people I know."
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