Plaisir…

Were not pleasure and pain an ancient continuum, previously acclaimed by the axiomatic Bentham, spurned by the critical Spinoza and experienced by the dreamy Descartes? Biological connections between neurochemical pathways, caffeinated with psychological plunders, bases its acuity upon nociception, the sensitive and physiological transmission of buried signals from primed organs, for instance, the skin to the roots of a dancer’s spinal cord. These same afferent receptors detect not only a spectrum of burns, tickles or caresses, but even the decadent herald of a Master.

“Welcome to the masquerade.” 

Layered, with asymmetry, the drivels of an unexcited limbic system must mandate a discernable code to decipher, lest the burden of an unexpectant stimuli be indifferentiable between reward and punishment. Similar to the mind’s eye lost in the merge of smoke and fire. This no longer faint but beautiful signal interjected amongst the noise within the boisterous shindig, to not accept imitations. That which is empty, whose purpose is to be filled.

Was this belle, the golden wheat among the auburn chaff littering the room of this ball? Does this curtsying rose have thorns?	

The gambler desired the unknown professor passing by to glean his now encumbered, but polite English, while simultaneously offering any other hidden eavesdroppers her calculated namesake. [color=39b54a]“Ray, what a wondrous moniker!”[/color] Zorkybksi risked the odds that this coryphée was not simply a planted danseur by the coveted Spices, but he had to be absolutely sure. No more riddles or boogying. A guarenteed bet.

If her past and reasons were fabricated, it would be obviously superficial after a careful, subtle inquisition. 

[color=39b54a]“What brings you to this revelry?”[/color]

[@Sofaking Fancy][@Hekazu][@Lady Selune]