Welcome to Gaia! ::

A muffled, happy noise escaped the Muse. Melisande stretched her wings wide and sighed, lost in the rhythmic attentions of her masseuse. Jing was a small woman, and surprisingly strong, though she applied very little of that strength to the Sigel’s delicate frame. Pasha had seen her carry the fifty pound massage table up three flights of stairs every morning since Alain had opened The Songbird.

He had been good to his word. The very day he’d shown her the business card, he’d offered to start her shift with a massage, and it hadn’t been a one time promise. Every morning, it was the same. Jing would arrive with her table and a basket. In the basket was some sweet little delicacy and a single flower, which Pasha dutifully tucked into the vase on her vanity. The resulting bouquet always had a sort of harmony by the end of the week, though it was assembled piece by piece. Today, Jing had brought a pink stargazer lily, which dazzled amid pale toned gerber daisies and rough twists of heather. The treat in the basket had been a white chocolate covered petit four, painstakingly crafted to look like a three tiered wedding cake no larger than her thumb. She usually sent the sweets home with Jing for her baby sister, and though lovely, this one would be no exception.

She sighed again as the young masseuse switched to her arms, and tucked her wings back in. Pasha rolled her head to the side from where she laid face down on the massage table to watch Jing work. The woman’s face was as expressionless as always, her perfectly cut straight black bangs nearly obscuring her dark eyes. Pasha smiled languidly, a crease line from the sheet cutting across her flawless cheek like a scar. “That’s lovely, thank you. Will you help me pick out my outfit today?” Another of Jing’s common duties. “I was thinking something white, since it’s been so hot lately…”

Jing was shaking her head no. She continued to work down Pasha’s arms, her nimble fingers pulling the tension out of elbow and wrist. Melisande’s brows furrowed lightly, confused. ”You…won’t help? That’s…okay. I’m sorry if I’ve asked too much of you! I just-“

“You ask nothing. The gentleman has sent an outfit for you. No picking.” Jing rarely spoke, and while it would have normally been a pleasure to hear the girl’s soft voice, Pasha was too focused on the words. The gentleman was Alain, she’d never heard Jing refer to him as anything else. But Alain hadn’t sent a clothes in a very long time, ever since Vi had shown him a picture of Pasha’s…of Aria’s…wardrobe on her camera phone.

”He did?” Pasha sat up slowly, pushing up from the massage table with one arm. She was positively naked, but curved one wing artfully to obscure her slight chest with a fan of her own feathers. Her cheeks were pink from the massage, and her hair a white blonde tangle of curls…but by the time Jing was done with her, would be a polished gem. It was almost routine. ”May I see it?”

Melisande was understandably confused. Jing had only brought up her little basket, same as always. There was room for a few towels, assorted bottles of oils and lotions, a flower, and a treat. Where had she hidden an entire outfit? Jing nodded, and wiped her hands briskly on a soft towel. She opened the basket and pulled out a white package the size of a children’s shoe box. It was wrapped with a pink ribbon, and the stoic Jing handed it to her without further comment. It seemed to weigh nothing at all.

Curious, Pasha pulled the ribbon. It untied with almost no friction, and Jing leaned over to take the ribbon from her. Melisande was no longer bothering to cover herself with one wing…Jing helped lace up her corsets, and had seen her unclothed more than once. She set the lid of the box aside, and blinked at the outfit within.

It wasn’t an outfit. It was a pink bra, and some matching fabric so light and gauzy that it was entirely see through. It was as soft as silk, and utterly weightless in her hands. Stunned, Melisande held it up for Jing. She could see the other woman clearly through the fall of cloth.

“Up.” Jing commanded, taking the ‘outfit’ from the Muse. Pasha obeyed slowly, floating up from the table and turning her back to the woman. In seconds, the bra was on, and Pasha looked down and squeaked.

“What?” Her attendant was to the point, but her voice was little to be called curt.

”I…it…” Pasha turned around, wearing nothing but the pink bra, and motioned to it vaguely to it with a wax-on motion. ”Look!!”

Jing looked, impassively. The bra was not only padded, it was a push up, creating the illusion of breasts where the Muse really didn’t have any. It was a fairly…substantial…illusion. Pasha was shocked speechless. Her attendant continued to dress her, wrapping lengths of sheer fabric in complementing shades of pink over her shoulders and around her slender waist. Pasha continued to stare down at her first glimpse of cleavage.

“Sit. Make-up.” Melisande sat, only looking up when Jing placed her fingers under the Muse’s chin and tilted her head back for her. Now that she wasn’t staring at her own chest, Melisande’s mind began to work again, and her brows furrowed slowly.

“No wrinkles.”

”Sorry.” She relaxed her expression, but continued to think. This…was the outfit Alain wanted her to wear? To work? The idea of going out in public in something like this was… Pasha went a little pale, and pressed her hands to her stomach. Jing worked ceaselessly, painting Melisande’s eyes and glossing her lips with a delicate touch. ”Jing? I don’t…think…”

“Hush. Same as bikini, more cover.” The woman motioned for Pasha to rise, and the Sigel floated back from the vanity automatically. Aside from the enhanced cup size, it was essentially a bikini, but one didn’t wear a bikini to work! She handed Jing the ivory comb and turned, presenting her curls for brushing, but the attendant put the comb back on the table. “Finished.”

”But..my hair is a mess!” Pasha glanced to the mirror, and gasped. Jing had painted her eyes and lips boldly, with the same magenta as the ribbon tied around her waist to keep the gauzy fabric in place. Her hair was an absolute mane of mussed curls from her massage, the flowers at her temples peeking through the chaos. ”I look…”

“Beautiful.” Jing’s voice was soft as ever, but Melisande thought she heard a hint of a smile. She turned to look, but there was no expression on the girl’s face. The masseuse packed her basket back up efficiently, rolling her towels and folding her table with a snap. “Your car is waiting.”

Melisande took a deep breath, not watching as Jing left. Instead, she watched herself in the mirror. With her wild hair, revealing outfit, and daring make up, she didn’t look like herself. She looked like a woman.

She looked a little scared.

[Reserved for Summer Garden Party wrap up]

Lazy Sundays were one of Melisande’s favorite things, especially this time of year. The early evening sun warmed her balcony deliciously, and she left the French doors open wide. In the orchard below, the apple trees were heavy with fruit, and a single deer picked its way between the slender trunks with graceful and halting steps. The Muse rested on her divan, looking out at the world with a saucer in one hand and a delicate cup of tea in the other. Across the orchard was a hand forged iron gate, separating the manor from everything else, and it was here that her gaze rested.

She spent a lot of time looking at the gate, on days like this. Looking into her memory was like looking into the past, and Melisande could picture the day so perfectly that it was as though the scene played out again before her. Zavier had come with her, that day, to the manor. She’d been so curious about the seal, about Aria, about the connection that Aki refused to talk about. They’d been together, hand in hand, on the other side of the iron gate. Melisande could almost see his signature wash of white and blue, a water-colored memory moving behind inked black bars. The wind had picked up, rattling the branches in the orchard, pushing them together as he asked her to dance.

Asked me to dance- Melisande set the saucer aside and wrapped both hands around the warmth of the tea cup. That memory was one of her favorites, as precious as the first kiss they’d shared. As always behind the memory, she could hear his voice. I will be back. Wait for me.


He’d said it to her so many times, so many ways. The memory faded, and she found herself gazing at an empty orchard. Even the deer had gone. He had warned her he was leaving, hadn’t he? He had promised he would be back, hadn’t he? He had asked her to wait…and she had waited. Waited still. Melisande’s hands tightened around the eggshell thin porcelain of the cup. The tea within trembled, rippling under the light breath of steam. The whole world told her he was gone. Dead. Not coming back. Even the storm had told her, that day on the beach. It had wrapped her up and snatched at her tears as best it could.

But he’d promised.

The sudden chime of the phone yanked her out of her reverie. It was a loop she’d been caught in more than once, here at this window. Melisande swallowed, and placed the teacup carefully back onto the saucer. She didn’t notice the hairline crack that snaked through the delicate design. Tugging her satin robe tightly around her, she cinched the belt and rose from the divan. A few petals tumbled in her wake, spiraling and fainting sweetly onto the crushed velvet cushions. Her hair was tied back with the same white satin ribbon as her belt, pulled into a huge looping bow to keep her curls out of her face while she rested. The phone chimed again, and she sighed, picking up the antique ivory colored receiver from its cradle.

”Hello?”

“Melisande?”

Pasha’s blood suddenly ran cold. Her wings pulled in tight, eyes going wide in her pale face. The last warmth from the cup of tea was gone, and her fingers clutched frozen around the receiver. ”…Aki?”

Her mother’s voice was like a shock of cold water. Every word jolted down the Muse’s spine. “Melisande, this is getting ridiculous. Do you know how long it’s been?” There was an edge to Aki’s velvet tone that Melisande remembered well. It cut to hear it again. “We need to talk. I want to see you tomorrow-“

”Tomorrow? I-I can’t. I have to work.” A wave of dizziness hit her, and Pasha’s wings spread for balance. She’d had gotten used to being on her own. To have Aki so suddenly resurrected made her feel very young, and very vulnerable. ”Alain won’t like it if I call in. I have to-“

“…Alain?” Aki’s voice went from velvet to ice. Melisande squeezed her eyes shut, pressing one hand to her stomach. She knew her ex-guardian well. This quiet tone was far more dangerous than yelling. “Did you say…Alain? Do you know who he is, Melisande? I’m coming over, now. I need you to-….Melisande? Are you there? MELISANDE!!!” Aki’s voice distorted through the tinny speaker, echoing through the empty room. The curtains along side the French doors billowed, framing the orchard below and the distant white-robed silhouette that slipped between the trunks like a ghost.

Melisande woke up in an unfamiliar room, and blinked at the darkness around her. This was...Alain’s office? Suddenly, it all came back to her. The call, her flight, Alain’s kind offer. Pasha began to tremble, and pulled the blanket higher. She was still in her white satin robe, though the ribbon in her hair was gone. She had probably lost it in the orchard. The thought of Anderson, the butler of the manor, finding her gone with just her hair ribbon fluttering from a tree suddenly made her feel ill. He would be so worried!

Pushing the blanket off of her, Pasha started for the door…only to slow half way across the room. If she left in such a rush, wouldn’t Alain be just as worried? Her cheeks were dry with the salt from her tears, but Melisande patted them to wake herself up. She had to stop being so flighty. It wasn’t right to leave people worrying!

Wasn’t that what she’d done to Aki, though? Melisande’s lips twisted into a moue at the thought. Folding the blanket carefully, she set it on the arm of the couch. It smelled like Alain…leather and sweet tobacco. Pasha wiped her fingertips discreetly on the cuffs of her satin robe and sighed. He was a gentleman, but Melisande didn’t want to be here. Everything around her loomed like he did, silent and imposing in the dark. She wanted to rest, and-

The doorknob refused to turn in her hand. It was jammed solid, moving only a fraction of an inch to the right or the left. Pasha frowned, and shook the voluminous sleeves of her robe back, putting both hands to the task. Click click click. Not jammed. Locked.

Melisande wheeled back from the door, wings spreading open in shock. She was locked in? Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Why would he do that? Pasha took a deep breath, and then another, forcing herself to calm. Perhaps he’d locked it out of habit. After all, didn’t he lock it every night? Perhaps it was to keep Aki out. It was a kind thought, but Melisande was beginning to feel trapped, like a bird in a cage. L'oiseau chanteur! Her mind whispered. My dove, my little songbird.

She had to get out. Shaking, Melisande tried the door again. Still just as locked. She needed a key. The desk! Pasha snapped her wings shut and flew to the desk, but paused, her fingers just inches from the brass handle of the hardwood drawer. This was Alain’s desk…and for some reason, she knew he would be angry if she went through it, even to look for the key. Her fingers trembled, and she let her hand drop. She didn’t like disappointing Alain. Sometimes he didn’t know how strong he could be.

Pasha hiccupped, trying not to cry, and cast her eyes upwards. There were no answers there, only the trio of stained glass pendant lights, and…a window?

Her wings fluffed, eyes opening wide like a cat spotting a mouse. There was a window! It was high up on the wall, and narrow…one of those windows meant to let in a little light, or to be propped open to let out the warm air in summer. She floated up gracefully, robe trailing dramatically like a spirit from a musical. It would be a tight fit…a very tight fit…but Melisande knew she could do it. She could explain to Alain in the morning that she just needed some air…

The Sigel reached up and pushed the window fully open. The night air was so cool that she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Exhaling slowly to calm herself, Melisande reached out the window with both arms, holding her wings tight against her body as she pushed through. One of the screws caught her hair cruelly, but with one last tug she was free, moving like a satin fish in the moonlight.

It wasn’t until she was out of the office that she realized she truly had nowhere to go. She couldn’t go to the manor, Aki would find her there. There were a few people she could call, but showing up at midnight in a satin robe wouldn’t be sending a proper message. Melisande blushed, and tugged the robe tighter. She had to be back here for work in the morning anyway…all she needed was somewhere to rest, for just a few hours.

The gazebo stood silently across the plaza, shining like a birdcage in the light of the moon. Melisande laughed sadly to herself. She’d exchanged one cage for another! Drifting toward it, she trailed her hand through the delicate vines of jasmine. It smelled heavenly, even sweeter than during the day! Delighted with this one small comfort, Pasha made her way up the steps, and settled down in the center of the covered gazebo stage. Too late, she thought of the throw over the arm of the couch…but she was happier with the fresh smells of evening and flowers, anyway. It was still early in the season, and surprisingly temperate even and night.

Pasha repeated this to herself a few times as she tugged she robe tighter still, and tried to fall asleep.

Melisande struggled, pushing out of Alain’s arms in a panic. It was early morning, and the scent of jasmine was as faint and modest as one would expect it to be. The trees were silvery green in the false dawn, and Melisande’s ribbon was just the right shade of purple. Sobbing, she pulled her robe back into place from here it had slipped, and put as much distance as she could between herself and the gazebo before Alain stopped her.

”We must stop meeting like this!” He murmured, in what Pasha assumed was an attempt at humor. She genuinely wasn’t in the mood. ”What happened, my dove?”

”I’m not your dove!” Melisande cried, before she could stop herself. Shocked at her own words, Pasha winced, drawing back sharply. What had she done?!

”Why are you…cringing?” Alain’s deep voice was a quiet rumble, curiously free of the anger Pasha had been expecting. She’d never spoken to Alain like that before, and both of them knew it. ”Do you think I would hurt you?”

Shaking, Pasha opened her eyes, but her shoulders were still drawn up. ”Sometimes…you do.” It took every scrap of courage the Muse had to utter those words. She was still shaken from the nightmare, and cold from spending the night out doors…saying something like that, to Alain, on top of it all was enough to make her start shaking. ”I know…you don’t mean to…”

”Come.” He said, and opened his arms in a gesture of kindness. The expression, however, didn’t touch his eyes. What Melisande saw there was a curious sort of patience, which scared her more than the anger. She drifted back unconsciously, and he dropped his arms as swiftly as he raised them.

”You’re making poor decisions, Melisande.” His tone was suddenly clipped, curt. She winced as though he had hurt her, after all. ”Leaving my office, when I’d made sure you would be safe, and turning away a friend when it is obvious you need one. Perhaps you should take a few days off. I’ll have Marie cover your shifts.”

”No, I-Marie?” Was she getting fired? No, he couldn’t fire her, she was a partner! And….Marie? Could Marie even sing? ”I just need some time! I-“

”That’s what I’m giving you. Time. Refusing favors while asking for others is in poor form. Home now, or where ever you’d like to go.” Alain waved one hand dismissively, and turned to make his way back to his office.

Melisande was profoundly grateful he wasn’t mad, but this seemed like a different kind of anger. It hurt her, for some reason…to know she had disappointed him. Caught between Alain and the Gazebo, in nothing but a smudged white satin robe, and unable to go home, Melisande found herself abruptly and startlingly alone. She jumped as Alain’s office door slammed, and fled, like a deer after a shot.

It was well into morning by the time Melisande made it into downtown. The stares she was getting were serious, and she didn’t blame them. Pasha knew she looked a mess, with petals tangled in her loose hair, her white satin robe smudged and snagged, and the ends of her belt trailing like prayer strips behind her. The Sigel steeled herself, and went to the only place she knew she was safe. Just down the block, the hand-painted sign shone like a beacon of hope.

Second Chances.

It was too early for Vi’s thrift store to be open, Melisande knew that…but she also knew where her friend kept her emergency key. In moments, she would be safe inside, in (second hand) new clothes, with Alto to keep her company until Vi arrived. Her hands were shaking as she ran them under the window ledge, feeling around for the little silver key.

Sticky, dirty tape had never felt so good. She ripped it from the sill, not caring who saw. She’d just tell Vi to hide it somewhere new next time. The key rattled in the lock as Pasha tried to calm herself enough to turn it. Everything she’d been through in the last twelve hours….from Aki calling, to being locked in Alain’s office, the terrible dream about the Gazebo, and Alain so coldly dismissing her from work…was truly catching up with her. Tears sprang to her eyes when the lock refused to turn, until Pasha remembered to turn the deadbolt at the same time. The door pushed suddenly open, and the welcome smell of citrus and slightly musty clothes was almost enough to make her cry.

“You are a hot mess, girl.”

Two figures swam into view. Melisande had enough time to realize that they were both wearing suits, and that they both had wings, before everything started getting strangely bright.

“Catch her! She’s gonna faint!”

“You catch her! I’m holding a twenty pound pug!”

Pasha crumpled neatly to the floor.

It didn’t take long for them to get Melisande fixed up. Her hair was already done, and Azure selected an outfit from the second hand racks while Amira literally spit polished the Muse’s face.

“Hold still!”

”That’s…ew! Please!” Melisande wiggled, but Amira had an iron grip around the Sigel’s upper arm, and was swiping a thumb she had just licked over Melisande’s cheek bones.

“How did you get so dirty?”

”She already told you, Amira! She slept in the park! Like a lovely little hobo!” Azure’s amused sing-song voice called out over the racks, hangers rattling as he browsed. ”Ooh, I like this.”

“You’re not shopping for you. Hurry up, I’ve almost got her clean. No telling how long she’ll stay that way!”

Melisande made a sad noise, still wiggling away from Amira’s ministrations. They were starting to hurt her feelings…she wasn’t a dirty person. She especially wasn’t a hobo! It had just been a hard day, with a strange set of occurrences…but not matter how many times she tried to explain that, Amira just rode right over her. ”I’m not…I won’t…”

”Okay, here we go!” Azure dropped a small mountain of clothes on the ground, earning stares from both of the ladies. Melisande was shocked to see the red dress shirt that Rivener had been coveting on the very top of the stack. ”What? These are for me. This is for her!”

In his other hand was a simple grey women’s dress shirt, nicely tailored in at the waist, and a white tie. For the first time, Amira smiled, and snatched it out of his hands. “Perfect!” It was so nice to see Amira smile for once that Pasha automatically smiled back…until she realized that the woman had also snatched away her satin robe.

For what felt like the second time in twenty four hours, Melisande found herself unexpectedly naked. Amira nodded, grudgingly approving. Azure grinned, and flashed an ‘ok’ sign.

Melisande screamed.

The mirror behind Amira shattered. The older Muse lurched forward, slapping a hand over Melisande’s mouth before the shop windows gave, as well. “Enough! Give it a rest! Sorry! Here, put this on!” She shoved the dress shirt into Melisande’s hands and turned around, motioning sharply for Azure to do the same.

He rolled his eyes and waved them both off, making his way back down the blue aisle. ”I’m a Muse, love. I’ve seen be-….well, I’ve seen it before. Oh, now these are classy. Vintage.” He held up a pair of badly ripped blue jeans, with a gash across the back of both thighs that would surely show an indecent amount. In most places, the fabric served only to hold the holes together…not that anyone else was looking. Azure sighed to himself and hung them back on the rack.

It didn’t take long for Pashsa to slip into the shirt. She was so relieved to be wearing something that she didn’t even fuss when Amira expertly knotted the tie. “There. Now look. Oh wait, you killed that mirror. Okay, come around to this one. Now look.”

Melisande let herself be tugged around the corner to the next dressing room, with mirror still intact. She was so tired, and so harried, and so discombobulated that she didn’t know what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it. She looked…beautiful.

Amira had pulled Melisande’s hair back from her face in a fashion that made her look more mature, in a striking way. The curls were captured behind an almost invisible headband, dotted sparingly with rhinestones, and they were pinned as such that it looked almost business-like. That illusion was enhanced by the dress shirt, which seemed dangerously feminine as it clung to the curve of Pasha’s tiny waist. Only the sleeves, which were the tiniest bit too long, changed the image…making her look cute where it was least expected. It looked less like the shirt had been tailored specifically for her, and more like she was wearing...her boyfriends’ shirt…

”How did you do that?” Melisande breathed, twisting this way and that in the mirror. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, but the image conjured was so clear that there was no denying it. Amira’s answering smirk accepted the credit without response.

”She’s good, isn’t she?” Called Azure from across the shop. The distant clatter of hangers indicated the other Muse was still shopping.

Pasha nodded, and lifted one hand towards her immaculate updo. A death glare from Amira (which Melisande was secretly surprised didn’t shatter the glass) stopped her mid motion. “I’m serious when I said you should ditch the blonde thing, though. It’s so overdone, especially for Muses. Go ahead, try brown.”

They stared at each other in the reflection of the mirror for a moment, Amira still standing behind Melisande with her arms crossed.

”Now?”

“Yes! What do you think?”

”Play nice, Ammy.”

“Either come help, or shut the hell up!”

”I…can’t?” Pasha was at a loss. She was getting better at tuning out their bantering, but she was still baffled how the woman expected her to change her hair color on the spot. Amira shot her a disbelieving look and spun the Sigel around, so the women were face to face.

“Are you serious? Look, it’s easy.” Tilting her head back, the Muse gave her head a little shake. The brown seemed to fall right out of her hair, like a picture vanishing from an Etch-a-Sketch. Suddenly, Amira was blond, and her green eyes seemed almost electric. “You try! Carefully.”

Melisande’s mouth had fallen open. She pressed her lips together, confused but determined, and tilted her head back. Ever so gently, she gave a shake…and opened her eyes to Amira’s irritated expression. ”Did it work?”

The other woman sighed, and shook her head, ending up a brunette again. “No. It didn’t. Try this.” Amira ran her hands down her own chest, slowly, and suddenly the buttons on her tailored suit coat were straining. Azure manifested without delay, grinning over the aisle.

”I…definitely can’t do that.” Pasha dropped her eyes to the floor, cheeks a brilliant pink.

”You’ll never know unless you try.”

”Shut up.” “Shut up.”

This time, Amira actually laughed. ”I told you she was funny! Okay, I give up. Do you feel a little better now, Melisande?”

Surprisingly, she did. Pasha smiled, tentatively, and nodded.