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Across the square and past the church, its windows watching you like vacant
eyes, you will find Savage Gardens. The street is narrow and little used. The
night is dark and the cobble-stones, wet by a thin drizzle, glisten in the dim
light. The grand rusted gateway rises into the night, its gothic excesses are festooned with vegetation. It stands open, beyond is a well kept gravel driveway which leads to a large Regency town house. Dark windows can be made out set into the whitewashed walls. The butler who answers the door has an unnaturally pale visage, and the faint lines of veins can be made out on his skin. His name is Alberts, and he leads visitors through a grand hallway into a Regency style drawing room, where he asks them to wait. The decor in the room is almost decadent. Every surface is richly decorated. The chairs are upholstered with the finest silks and satins. A warm fire blazes in the magnificent fireplace. A million dancing red flames are reflected in the gleaming silverware and gilt. The windows are shuttered and hidden behind thick drapes. After a few minutes, Alberts returns, "Madame will see you now." Myfanwy is seated in a gilt chair, marooned in the centre of a large and beautifully decorated saloon. There is an overwhelming sense of tranquility.
Myfanwy greets her visitors pleasantly with a smile. She offers her hand to be shaken or kissed. Once everyone has been introduced she turns to business. "So, you wish my protection under the Law- you wish to bear my Sigil?..." |
Myfanwy herself is tiny, and so pale that her skin seems white. Her black
hair, set in elegant ringlets is a shocking contrast. She is dressed in a
deep blue gown of the finest satin. Her Sigil (in silver) dangles about
her neck. There is a faint smell of nutmeg in the air. By far the most
striking thing is her eyes- they are uniformly white, dead like a cooked
fish's.