Saint Joseph School

Violet dropped into one of the imitation leather, sling-back seats at her gate. Paris, connecting through Madrid, to some town she couldn't pronounce. CNBC hummed quietly on a flat-panel TV overhead. A row of passengers, most of them in suits, seemed to huddle around the news for warmth, their ...

Violet's bedroom in the penthouse suite the Tea Party shared looked like an exploded doll house. Everywhere lay pretty clothes and rumpled costumes, made of everything from silk crepe to vinyl, run with lace and Kevlar, bits of silicon interfacing, mysterious cable ports. Straight blades of all ...

They met upon the luxurious Persian rug of Madame Sylvia's capacious antechamber, several thousand dollars worth of furniture and months of silence between them.

Though her stride stopped short and she stood soundly upon the plush, her sculpted titanium stilettos driving deep into the fiber, there ...

The tiles rang like ceramic chimes, white and black keys tapping out a steady dirge of echoes against painted tin and heavy, embossed paper. Ahead, a blade of light from beneath a door and the muffled notes of Beethoven broke the corridor's tomb-like atmosphere. Violet knocked once, softly, and ...

In the hours after sunset the city took on an unearthly, azure hue, the shadows bleeding into the crisp geometry, the glass clouding darkly, the tops of the buildings looming obelisks against the still-light skyline. The worn-rough sandstone still radiated the Spring's tentative warmth into his ...

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{{Infobox Character
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| image =
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| name = Johnny Firebird
| player = @Grey Knight
| archetype = Corrupter
| origin = Science
| level = 40 (fluff)
| fullname = Sydney St. John
| nicknames = Sydney Ashe, Phoenix Ashe ...

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{{Infobox Character
| npc =
| image = Image:Violetlam2007-8.jpg‎
| imgwidth = 268px
| caption = Violet's photo in the 2007-2008 Annuus.
| handle = Karakuriya
| player = [[User:Karakuriya|@RedTeapot]]
| origin ...

When, exactly, had she lost control?

Violet carefully, oh, so carefully pulled her black socks up past her knees to that perfect zettai ryouiki height where wearing more clothing only drew the eye more distinctly to the slivers of skin that showed, like rice makeup on the back of a maiko 's neck ...

The sun, well past its zenith, illuminated only the wells of the skylights, bathing the rest of the parlor in soft shadows that seemed to hold the day's warmth close and quiet. The pair curled up on a love seat in an intimate, book-lined nook of the room, heads close in the fading light.

Violet ...

We will now be handling all dormitory assignments on the wiki at its newly up-to-date article: http://sjs.vidrar.net/sjs/wiki/Dormitories

If you'd like a dorm, simply head over to the talk page and put in your request, or, if the wiki baffles you, PM me.

In the end, it was all quite simple. Through this latest election cycle, Geoffrey Doyle had been receiving increasingly threatening pressure by the Tsoo to protect their interests, and the alderman's wayward daughter had only assumed that the Absinthe's unexpected patrons had been some specially ...

She had been worn completely raw. Worn so brazen she might have just promised to go to the Snow Ball with that little wafer of eye candy from Bloodvine. She just couldn't bear the idea of putting on the face and the airs and all the effort for a boy who would wouldn't notice anyway.

She let them ...

The Absinthe held its breath for the girl who was meant to leave them panting. She was almost too good, her skill was incomprehensible, her allure just intoxicating. Not woman: art. What, but the most perverted of minds, could imagine ravishing this super-human thing on the stained paisley carpet of ...

It was just a card.

Laminated and tucked carefully into a pouch on her belt, it made her invincible here in the land of bright red and yellow circus tents. She wove through the enamored throngs of thrill-seekers and the bare-breasted women in clown white, blending in, for now, waiting for one of ...

The next days for Violet were strangely blissful as she was shepherded back into the bussle of Paragon, constantly flanked by her sister-mentors like a precious payload. Days spent acquiring a schizophrenic wardrobe of alias of all tropes; in shady electronics-encrusted back rooms with thick rolls ...