Owner	Pose
Satana Hellstrom	"And what a gala event it is tonight!" The warm, radio-friendly voice talks from the boot set up for the press service as the host of KVCA's "What's Happening!?" bubbles his enthusiasm over the charity event held by the mysterious Madame H. in The Tunnel. "That's right, Ellis," the bubbly feminine voice of "Jeanine" returns. "Look at who's all out there. There's billionaire bankers, enterprising tech magnates, even the scions of some of the old money houses all gathered together, strutting their stuff, in this thousand dollar cover charge charity event for the ..." The second voice pauses and the sounds of paper rustling can be heard. "... Heterae Home for Fallen Women. Such a quirky charity, yet all the big names are out in force." The voices, of course, can't go silent for any length of time, needing to fill the air with their mindless nattering. They've been talking this way for a few minutes now, as nothing proceeds to happen until... "I don't believe it, Jeanine! Madame H. is making her personal appearance and WHAT an OUTFIT!" Satana Hellstrom, the mysterious Madame H. mentioned in all the press materials, does indeed make her appearance. And what an outfit indeed. She's taken the input of all the greatest lawyers of Hell to design an outfit that meticulously follows the New York public indecency laws while smashing and stomping the intent of those laws into a bloody pulp. There is room to argue that what she's wearing is strictly worse than if she'd chosen not to wear anything whatsoever, the outfit being cunningly cut to draw eyes specifically to the barely-covered features that the law mandates must be covered. And all the jewelry and accessorization is skull-themed. Golden skulls around her waist in a mockery of a belt. Golden skeletons hanging from her pierced ears, their feet tickling her neck as she walks. And the way she walks. The old Bikini Kill song "Rebel Girl" talks about "in her hips there's revolution". If that is true, then in Satana's hips is a massive uprising, her shoulders moving in counterpoint to give her entire body the impression of a snake slithering upright. "Thank you all," she says into a microphone, "for coming to my little gathering. The Fallen Women appreciate your help. Partake of any services available: there's dancing, drink, other chemicals, dancers who can also serve as companions in the private rooms for ... call it private karaoke sessions." She grins and winks as behind her a line of men and women, absurdly beautiful, come out into the club, latching themselves onto anybody who appears to be alone. "Let this be a night to remember!"
Aphrodite	Technically speaking, Aphrodite didn't have herself an invitation to this gala. But that had never stopped her before. Her gown? It was bright, the sort of white that in a gradiant drifted to red, a hint of passion on something that might otherwise suggest purity...but no least flattering or eye-drawing to the form of a literal goddess of beauty. She moved her way in, none seemingly thinking to question the newcomer who'd introduced herself as 'Alicia Fields' when asked, clearly finding a little humor in her wordplay while her eyes took in the revelry of the celebration around them all in the name of charity. Certainly it wasn't how most humans tried to celebrate such things but well...that did make it more amusing. Eros practically radiated off half the people in here and that had been enough to draw her attention. Aphrodite walks the world of mortals tonight, and that was never a recipe for calm.
Satana Hellstrom	A blond man with enough booze on his breath to knock out a buzzard, paired with pupils so small they rivalled purely theoretical particles, 'accidentally' stumbles into 'Alicia'. His drink 'accidentally' spills on her chest. Which he (with suspicious alacrity) has a handkerchief out for and starts 'helping' to remove the stain. "Oh, gosh, I'm so terribly sorry," he slurs, leering as his hands approach the danger zone while 'helping'. "James Gardener. You may have heard of me?" He's not even trying to look at 'Alicia's' eyes. His eyes are focused just below his ever-straying-lower hands. "James!" a voice that Aphrodite had just heard speaking into a microphone says, from behind her. "You made it!" Satana steps past Aphrodite into her line of vision and gathers James up into a full-body hug that redirect's James' attentions to the hot body (in all senses of the term) now pressed against his. Satana turns her head to regard Aphrodite, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly before gesturing with her chin to the bar. "Stain remover sticks are available at the bar graTIS!" Her voice raises into a delighted whoop as James' hands stray to where they don't belong. "Now James, don't be so bold! I'm working here!" Her eyes turn back to Aphrodite. "I'll join you at the bar in a moment after I've dealt with James here. I hope you're enjoying yourself despite the...?"
Aphrodite	There was no doubt that Aphrodite liked to be the focus of attention, but well...there was a level of standards one had to have. Given there was drifting hands? She frowns, the lift of her own grasp intended to be some direction of a little divine smiting for the indignity...but ironically enough? James would find himself saved by a devil. Fitting really, given the setting. He -had- just soiled a dress, and people had been cursed for less. The goddess does notice the look, the narrowing of her eyes, but she smoothes a hand over her own dress a little and takes a breath. "I expect an apology," she speaks calmly. "A better one..." Of course, she could be referring to either James -or- Satana to make it up to her as she makes her way towards the bar.
Satana Hellstrom	With a glance at one of the pretty people she'd drummed into the club, a man with an absurdly beautiful physique he's showing off by wearing nothing above the waist, Satana guides the soon to be late James Gardener to one of the aforementioned private 'karaoke' rooms. She half-drags him inside while he paws at her and closes the door, leaving the pretty man outside, standing in front of the door, and smiling at passers-by while looking them over like they were slabs of meat. Less than a minute later Satana steps out, and after a stirring in the mana of the club like a single man screaming in terror before being horribly silenced, alone and nods to the pretty man, who enters the room in her stead, while she walks over to the bar. Her walk is like the 'walk of shame' after a night of passion spent with a one-night stand. Her face is mildly flushed. And her breath still a hint ragged as she reaches the bar. "I'm sorry about James. He was a pig." Past tense. "Shall I help you with that stain?" Satana's eyes are, like James before her, looking at ... not Aphrodite's face. Well not all the time. She does have the decency to make eye contact with Aphrodite between short bouts of ogling the body before her. In that regard she's better than James. More skilled. "Modern tools for stain removal are actually very impressive." Something in her expression suggests she finds this statement amusing...
Aphrodite	At least there was a little distraction to lessen the annoyance of the moment before, a consideration of what might come next or indeed what she might be intending to inflict on James Gardener herself... Then she felt it, a shiver rolling down her spine as she felt the 'change', a little shift of her head to turn and look at Satana once more. She'd felt...something to see the woman, but now this? This just proved the point and sparked curiousity both. "That was...far more finite than I usually go for," she says simply, "but perhaps there's a charm in simplicity..." Aphrodite's gaze does do a similar assessment of Satana, perhaps with a little less oggling...but only a little. Odds are that she might be able to solve her little stain problem herself, but...what sort of goddess handled things like that herself? "Are they now? Well, I'd hate for something like this to ruin my evening before it got started..."
Satana Hellstrom	Snagging one of the aforementioned sticks from behind the bar, the hostess of the evening takes Aphrodite by the hand and threads her way around the dance floor, to the very room in which she'd taken James Gardner. Rapping at the door, the pretty man opens, nods to Satana respectfully, nods to Aphrodite with an inviting leer, before he's separated from the pair by a door. There is no sign of James Gardner in the room, but a vague hint of sulphurous essence tinges the experience. "I'm afraid the top will have to come off," Satana says, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But don't worry. I'm not like James was." Past tense again. "I can control myself." She looks Aphrodite in the eye. "The mortal won't bother you again. I've seen to it." Someone is laying cards on the table it seems.
Aphrodite	"It is a gown," Aphrodite offers in bemusement as they move onwards towards the private room and the pretty man, a slow lingering lift of her gaze over the attendant before they make their way into the room and she folds her arms under her impressive bust. "It does not come off in 'parts'..." she offers lightly before coming to step forwards at the comment and lifting her hands to brush her hair back behind her ear and then looking around the room. Of course, it -was- almost predatory the aura around her...but not in the literal sense that was Satana. She wasn't made to be tempting, she -was- temptation, beauty personified. She was a goddess after all, and perhaps unlike some? She wasn't afraid to make it clear she knew it. "And so you have...though I do wonder if that was your intended apology, or merely ridding yourself of something annoying? You were on first name basis..."
Satana Hellstrom	"He was prey," Satana says. "His corrupt soul screamed out to me for days. And now he's provided me sustenance." She looks Aphrodite up and down, surveying the gown. "I don't object to you removing it completely while I clean it. I don't hunger now so we are not likely to wind up in conflict." She smiles with mischief lighting her eyes, along with Hellfire. "I can hope, however, for ... more ... friendly relations while I clean." She tilts her head and surveys the goddess. "You've the smell of Olympus, but I can't place you without guessing. That would be rude. So I will just introduce myself: Satana Hellstrom, daughter of Marduk Kurios who styles himself Satan."
Aphrodite	"I would make you guess, but the peril that might befall you if you were to guess wrong is...literally the stuff of legend." Aphrodite muses, gesturing with her hand as the dress begins to ripple as if touched by the wind itself. Still, it did remain in place for the time being. "I am Aphrodite Ourania, goddess of love in all its forms, from eros to storge and...that which you embody, daughter of a demon." Friendly relations, that earns a little noise of amusement from the Olympian, a grin despite herself. "Most would...but it seems we have run in the same circles tonight and you pose me no threat...I imagine your usual games played with me would be a 'step up' that you lack the stamina for."
Satana Hellstrom	"Being exhausted in play would be a novel sensation for me," Satana purrs, slithering up to Aphrodite to rest a hand on where the stained fabric sits. A brief glow of baleful light and heat imbues the cloth (and the flesh beneath it) with its unholy presence and, hand removed, the stain is gone. "The mortals can't keep up with me and my kind ... lack the desire, for the most part, to give." Half-lidded eyes look up into Aphrodite's. "Trying to consume your soul would ... destroy this vessel for certain. I'm not made to take the souls of the godly. I am made to send the souls of sinning mortals screaming to Hell." Beat. "And if I happen to enjoy myself along the way?" Satana shrugs. "There's no harm in that is there?"
Aphrodite	"And what an attempt it would be..." Aphrodite comments, looking down to where the touch meets her dress, infernal magics doing the task that divine was working up to. That stirring cloth coming to rest still once more while the goddess looks down at the seemingly 'pure' and unmarked dress. "Beyond that? It is a problem I know all too well. Even among the champions and the divine blooded most struggle to keep me occupied for more than a paltry moment..."
Satana Hellstrom	"I'm sure I could keep you distracted for more than a few paltry moments," Satana purrs. "And if not, I have many incubi and succubi at my beck and call who can keep things moving while I recover." She withdraws a little to drink in Aphrodite's form again. "What little I know of you I learn from mortal texts about you," she says. "And none of those capture the grace I see here. Your mourning, too, of diversions undelivered ring true; though when I feed at least I feel satiation that I imagine those who lie with me feel." Beat. "Those mortals, I mean. I cannot speak for the divine for I have not partaken of those pleasures." Pregnant pause. Mischievous grin. "Yet..."
Aphrodite	"And what does a demon know of a goddess?" she questions lightly, a smirk still on her flawless lips. "Locked in your hells, worshiping darkness...can you appreciate something from above like me? I mean who better than a hellspawn to know temptation..." she trails off, clearly pleased with the praise. "And what would your father say to you making a moment of worship to me...?"
Satana Hellstrom	Satana looks to the left. Then to the right. She even turns her torso to a) present her profile, and b) check behind her. "If this is Hell, I must say the press is doing a terrible job of selling its horrors," she says with a grin looking back at Aphrodite. "Or, alternatively, I am locked nowhere." She leans forward and affects a conspiratorial whisper. "I think it's the last one." She winks and straightens back up. She glances down at the floor. "As for my father, probably the same as what he says whenever I go against his bidding and his delusional plans to storm the Gates of Heaven. I'd repeat it but it is very profane and not very civil in the slightest." She looks back at Aphrodite with an almost impish look of glee in her eye. "I am, after all, only half-Hellspawn. My father is Hellspawn and the Whoreson Upstairs has decreed that he be bound to Hell for all eternity as one of the fallen ones. He can make short incursions into the mortal sphere with the assistance of mortals, but he cannot stay here. He cannot come here by himself. I on the other hand have mortal blood as well as demonic. I come and go as I please. And I ignore or go along with my father as I please." She shrugs. "I don't hate him. He is a loving father in his own way. I just don't find it in me to follow his plans when there's so much FUN to be had. I'm not Daimon, my brother, who hates him and fights him with every breath. I just feel no need to follow him."
Aphrodite	The drama of 'complicated' family was not something lost on the Olympian. After all, her own father's exploits were even more famous than hers. Still she listens, leaning in enough with her arms moving from their folded position to gently reach a hand up to touch Satana's cheek if able, as if the demoness were a curious thing. "Your story is closer to my own than you might think...though perhaps I have not ventured as eagerly as you have...at my own loss perhaps. But that ends tonight." Her hand withdraws, the goddess intending to stand to her full height and smiling that smile that had started wars and worship alike. "I intend to see what this world can offer me. Perhaps Satana Hellstrom, if your hospitality and your guidance is pleasing enough you might just own my favor."