Midnight Majesty [Open]

[Mirella (DELETED 8125)]

Though it was cold, the fire Mirella spun kept her warm in the simple, scant clothing she wore. Simple black flats, black capri pants with criss-cross straps tying off at her ankles, a halter top dotted with tiny silver studs, and a belt and necklace that set off a gentle jingling sound with each and every step she took, with each and every motion of the blazing poi she spun in her hands. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a French braid, tight to her skull, as she danced with the friend that had always been there, despite turning on her enough times that her limbs bore scars to this day.

Most nights, she came to this little backwater bar patio, with its stone stage, using her talent with flame to entice patrons to come and see the beauty, and buy a few drinks on top of it. She performed for an hour at a time, taking only ten minutes between performances, until she had been on stage, twirling poi or enticing with fans, for a grand total of six hours. And then she would return home.

Each of those nights - this one included - Mirella hoped with all her heart that someone would see her talent with the blazing toys she prized so dearly, and offer her more than a couple bucks' tip, or a drink. Or at worst, lewd catcalls that made her shiver far more than winter's bite ever could.

She was of the von der Marck blood, yes, but that did not mean that she wanted to forever rely on that connection. She had been raised independent, to fend for herself as a performer. She did not like taking handouts. She felt the need to earn what was given to her, and so she came and danced for drunkards who were only kept back from the stone rise by a semicircle of wrought iron fence and the bar itself. She'd never told her family where she danced.

She didn't want them to see the lustful looks, hear the derisive calls.