Qadira, Sakari and Nica return to their suite to get spruced before they descend to be neat to the Vault.
It's tucked away under a secret cloud of The Portal of Silap Inua, the main locomotives of the majiivo (Magical Beings).
They step into the Reflective Magic and they're sucked into a desolate chasm. They breaststroke through the void until they arrive at a passage that reads.
'What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years'
A riddle to solve before you can enter and each living majiivo, has a new one before they can cross the threshold.
Who ever generated this idea has a mastermind.
I squint as my fingers massage my chin and the hemispheres of my cerebrum ponder the question before mentioned.
It swims around until the lightbulb moment hits and I say excitedly, "The answer is M" my chartreuse orbs increase with pride.
The coruscating light burns through the crack in the door as it unlocks and exposing us to the wonders it behold.
One leg after the other, we step into the dazzle and touch down on a deluxe tapestry.
A blend of jasmine and sandalwood creeps up our nose cones as it cavorts about our sensory fibers.
They plant a giant sign that reads Flamin Nest over a passage into a speakeasy.
Witches and wizards' frequency match as they all compete with each other to be heard. The obstacle of the symphony overlaps with voices.
The spark of hexes gives out a deep boom as laughter overpowers it within a contaminated cloud of smoke.
We notice a velvet banquette in the corner with gilded mirrors overhead, so we wind our way through the warm physiques to our seat.
I watch as the vapor whirls artistically, forming coils in the darkness, only explained by the age spattered bar lanterns.
The bespoke tables include goblets filled with specialty cocktails for us.
Mine is a mix of bourbon and sliver apple called Truth, and it tastes sickly.
Nica's Dare is a mix of pixie dust, flaming sambuca, ficus and Myrrh egg and Sakari is a pioneer tonight so she has a Virgin Flamingo a pink cola drink with a tiny umbrella, it's sweet just like her.
They serve a Highvakks a whiskey from the Province of Nirvana, Punknas from the Grids of Himalayan Peak, Spawuk from The Nebu and several other jumbles of libations.
A sizeable Eden suspends in the air filled with a motley crew of butterflies, a myriad of neon pigments adorn their mesmeric wings, as they illume our faces.
The manager is a four breasted witch, her outer coating an orchid color, hair like spider's limbs and her talons on her extended fingers can freeze or compel you to explode if she deems it necessary.
Her iris's are literally strawberries, and her leafy green hair is tight to her scalp and spiny in style.
Her honeyed lips partially opened to reveal needle-like shark teeth. Her bark is bigger than her bite though as she's rather gentle in her demeanor.
They paint the walls with berries and if you lick them you taste a miscellaneous of tastes.
Phone Booths pop up in random cavities and when you step inside, you can experience sexual pleasures if that is what you're into.
They are private, of course, so they place a charm upon them to keep wondering eyes away.
The bar person is a many handed petite woman. Her complexion berry blue as are her orbs and a star shape for her pupil's.
Her studded leather jacket snugly fit her shape, and scales of lively saffron for hair cease at her shoulder.
Her passion lips are a gateway to the body and bullet cartridge earrings dangle from her elfin ears. She is a rare dish indeed.
~~~~
This tomb has a labyrinth of corridors leading to many lounges.
The Noir Morte for the dark arts. It's run by The Executioner a bare bellied beast with a mohawk of straw, a thick leather belt, fur on his shoulder shields and metal protection on his boots.
His disguise on his face is a pelage of wool. His intense stare perks through as he watches everything and anything.
House torture devices such as branding irons, whips, shackles and gimp masks surround the dingy walls.
Electric chairs as seating, a grotto with electrical eels for entertainment and bear traps spread on the floor. A few wall sconces positioned about the area for some sort of light.
The smell of rotten eggs and perished produce drift on all sides there's no escaping it, unfortunately.
This is a dungeon for the Dark Magic folk to converse or whatever they like to do in their free time.
The creature that serves the drinks is a succubus named Keres. She's a fiery demon who can manifest herself as a raging firestorm before she adopts the form of a human.
Reveling in prosperity and egotistical manipulation of those in positions of power. Her body appears without a trace of skin, looking like tendons and muscle surrounded by an inferno.
This is how it looks before it moulds itself to an authentic self, to a configuration of its human version.
An impressive, piquant face, unreasonable, reasonable childlike if you may. Her low cut evening gown slit to her thigh bone, her nose upturned custom made just for her.
She has legs for days, rebellious pools of sapphire, magma waves ripple on her enormous cleavage and her bee-stung lips entice every inch of you to come hither.
That's Keres a flirt at first, then she will suck your soul until your nothing but dust. Stay clear at all costs.
~~~~
The Kärlek Den where the loved up couples canoodle the eve away as love heart shaped bubbles surround them.
Rose hued twinkling of cupid's arrows levitate from the lust awning. They sat bewitched with the fascinating art in raw energy, a melody for the imagination.
A curtain pulled back to reveal the stars like sugar spilled out over marble above them.
The stalls boost seductive acoustic music, and candles in gold candelabras shed sparkle.
Impeccably constructed mixtures to provoke passion. The favorite seems to be the Lust Elixir No. 3, a classy flute of berries and fizz.
This area is a tad too mushy gushy for the none duos so if you're not in a relationship stay clear.
~~~~~
The Adder Stone is a section for the Un_dr majiivo who are not yet 16 years old. This section is controlled by Poppy Reksaw, a Hawthorn fairy from Galway, Ireland.
Large filamentous wings shimmering like precious gems, walnut pigmented skin, glossy fair ringlets that touch her rear and pointed ears snoop through her locks.
Her eyes like buttercups in the Spring and a frock designed with rose petals cut to her knee. She may appear to be a delicate sprite but don't be fooled she can handle herself.
This zone is noisy to say the least, back slaps, unruly laughter, some boast of achievements while others don't care.
Debates, combat and defensive sorcery, this place is a loop of vitality as each one thinks they better the other.
The flurry of unsanitary juveniles fueled by hormones and magical phenomena like a cyclone wrecking the place.
Copper filled with glacier cream, ginger beer and a hint of lime lay on each jelly fish as they float in the extent of creating a hallucinogenic mood.
This sector is insane I honestly don't know how they cope with the malarkey, too much for my psyche
We need to find a place to relax and wind down from today so off we go in search of a miracle..
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