§ and when her edges soften her body is my coffin
In Xanadu proper, there is a luxurious manor home recently appropriated by two somewhat exceptional women. Since arriving with a cavalcade of hastily acquired help carrying in furniture and belongings, the pair have been sighted mostly only rarely, and most often in the afternoons and evenings- it seems at least one of the Countesses keeps irregular hours. She's sometimes glimpsed on balconies, tall and graceful, rarely staying long on her feet; she surveys her surroundings with a certain peremptory sense of entitlement to them.
Today finds her strolling a little ways from the mansion - not far, now, and with an attendant following her in case she feels the need to swoon at any point - all in white with a parasol shading her from the afternoon light. Her interest in the recent carnival is minimal (shamefully declasse), but the city itself is more intriguing the same way that the broader nexus had been.
"Fetch away to my lady," she instructs the maidservant a few footsteps behind her, "I would have her anticipating my gifts."
Of...which the maid is one. Uh.