Post by Igor on Oct 7, 2018 20:25:19 GMT -6
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THE VELVET ROOM[attr=class,punkihover1]
A PLACE BETWEEN DREAMS AND REALITY, MIND AND MATTER
Deep within the furthest reaches of the unconscious mind, a faint blue light glimmers like crystal before a candle. To gaze at this point is an instinctive reflex, a yearning to drive away the cold embrace of nothingness. Reaching for this twinkle in the void, however, produces a sensation comparable to falling through the air without a working parachute. It takes less than an instant for the azure speck to transmogrify into a whirling tunnel of blue and white, the 'falling' now closer to 'dragging', until every possible sense that could be imagined falls awash with numbing warmth.
The soft melody of a piano creeps its way into earshot. Following this is a return of vision, which is greeted by an abundance of stunning blues in varying shades and hues. Smell is the next to return, and it is greeted by the distinctive odor of poppy flowers. The exquisite choice in decorum suggested this place to be a smoking lounge, perhaps even a private drawing room, and the presence of a minibar stocked to its brim with a collection of reserves seemed to betray its inescapably surreal atmosphere.
Of course, this was not the true elephant in the room. Rather fittingly, and not without a hint of irony, that privilege belonged to the mysterious fellow with the long and pointy nose, who just so happened to be sitting squarely across the person that now existed as an occupant of this strange blue space. Sitting next to the bug-eyed gentleman in the black suit was a tall and handsome man with dull cobalt hair and pale xanthous eyes, wearing what appeared to be a stylish Inverness cape, whose stoic porcelain features painted a sharp contrast to the other person's seemingly crazed smirk and fixed stare.
"Welcome—" Speaks the old man at last, addressing his new visitor in a prolonged manner, "—to the Velvet Room."
The soft melody of a piano creeps its way into earshot. Following this is a return of vision, which is greeted by an abundance of stunning blues in varying shades and hues. Smell is the next to return, and it is greeted by the distinctive odor of poppy flowers. The exquisite choice in decorum suggested this place to be a smoking lounge, perhaps even a private drawing room, and the presence of a minibar stocked to its brim with a collection of reserves seemed to betray its inescapably surreal atmosphere.
Of course, this was not the true elephant in the room. Rather fittingly, and not without a hint of irony, that privilege belonged to the mysterious fellow with the long and pointy nose, who just so happened to be sitting squarely across the person that now existed as an occupant of this strange blue space. Sitting next to the bug-eyed gentleman in the black suit was a tall and handsome man with dull cobalt hair and pale xanthous eyes, wearing what appeared to be a stylish Inverness cape, whose stoic porcelain features painted a sharp contrast to the other person's seemingly crazed smirk and fixed stare.
"Welcome—" Speaks the old man at last, addressing his new visitor in a prolonged manner, "—to the Velvet Room."
