[ The back way through Baan's is a barely navigable path through salvage parts and rusted out scaffolding. There's a discarded tricycle with a bent wheel laying upside down, several hundred crushed cans of beer, and the sand underfoot glitters like a sultan's trove with broken glass. Tseng leads them past a blown-out brick wall that must have sheltered the shanties at one point, probably during the construction of the plate. There's holes big enough for Reno to fit through now.
Eventually, they come across a ramshackle old building that's been built upon with aluminum siding and what looks like half an old Beaufort. Tseng opens the door for Reno, revealing a mismatched staircase ascending, some of the steps comprised of corrugated steel, others barely more than sawed off pieces of plastic. None of it looks stable. All of it is dirty with muddy footprints. Still, the prevailing scent in the air is sweet, maybe too sweet, all floral notes and something chemical.
At the landing, Tseng swipes a key from his pocket and turns the lock on the very first door.
The space inside is a world removed. Sheer scarves drape over a gleaming golden four-post bed. A rambling vanity sits in pride of place beside a crudely-sawed window. The chair before it is a rich, deep mahogany to match, its seat upholstered with thick red velvet. The table is cluttered with a rainbow of makeup palettes and lipsticks and perfumes. There's a standing wardrobe, intricately-carved with whimsical visions of birds and trees, none of them native to Midgar or any place nearby it. This is where Tseng goes first, throwing open the heavy doors, retrieving a small silk dress on a hanger, the kind the opium girls with their garish white face paint and rouged lips wear around the dens. He holds it up between them. ]
Like I said: I don't think you're going to like it.
no subject
Those were Aliamenti Fyor.
[ The back way through Baan's is a barely navigable path through salvage parts and rusted out scaffolding. There's a discarded tricycle with a bent wheel laying upside down, several hundred crushed cans of beer, and the sand underfoot glitters like a sultan's trove with broken glass. Tseng leads them past a blown-out brick wall that must have sheltered the shanties at one point, probably during the construction of the plate. There's holes big enough for Reno to fit through now.
Eventually, they come across a ramshackle old building that's been built upon with aluminum siding and what looks like half an old Beaufort. Tseng opens the door for Reno, revealing a mismatched staircase ascending, some of the steps comprised of corrugated steel, others barely more than sawed off pieces of plastic. None of it looks stable. All of it is dirty with muddy footprints. Still, the prevailing scent in the air is sweet, maybe too sweet, all floral notes and something chemical.
At the landing, Tseng swipes a key from his pocket and turns the lock on the very first door.
The space inside is a world removed. Sheer scarves drape over a gleaming golden four-post bed. A rambling vanity sits in pride of place beside a crudely-sawed window. The chair before it is a rich, deep mahogany to match, its seat upholstered with thick red velvet. The table is cluttered with a rainbow of makeup palettes and lipsticks and perfumes. There's a standing wardrobe, intricately-carved with whimsical visions of birds and trees, none of them native to Midgar or any place nearby it. This is where Tseng goes first, throwing open the heavy doors, retrieving a small silk dress on a hanger, the kind the opium girls with their garish white face paint and rouged lips wear around the dens. He holds it up between them. ]
Like I said: I don't think you're going to like it.