N: Nyctanthous, nemeses & nightlife

Nyctanthous, noun. Flowering at night.

One particular aspect of the supposed life in the Free City of Jubylon that I have yet to touch upon, is it’s nightlife and culture. In particular, there was a famous area known as the “Potter’s neighbourhood”, which was a series of streets and squares lying on a hill close to the city wall in the Third district of the city. It was so called because potters had originally settled there to use mud from the hill there. Therefore, it was a cheap area to live in with windy streets and worn-down houses with many traditional red spires with a glorious view of the city and the sea. In short, prime real estimate for various artists.

One additional thing of note with the area. A botanists brought home a series of strange flowers from a far away land and brought them to a friend, an artists who could use it for a still life painting. One of the pots was dropped by accident and thrown out. It was then discovered that the muddy soil on the hill was actually good conditions for the strange flower to grow in. It’s original name was lost, so it was only known as “Potter’s orchid”, even though it more resembled a tulip with blueish white and dark blue petals, the latter almost black. What was unusual about it was that it only blossomed at night in the light of the moon, at times attracting fireflies. The sight of the flowers spreading their petals in the light of the moon only made it more popular in the area. Taverns, salons and restaurants decorated outdoor serving areas with potter’s orchids and colourful lamps. The Khemet Horus Hotel decorated the entire terrace of their penthouse suite with potter’s orchids and plays incorporated the flowers into their scene decorations with a lot of plays taking place in open air. It was the cultural Mecca of the Free City, with the varying First Consuls often visiting and the Doctors of the government at times joining their lead civil servant.

One particular incident was noticed, when two artists (Fatima Julie Slàine and Galilea Batya Chausiku) developed a rivalry over exhibition space in a gallery. Slàine was a sculptress and Chausiku was a painter, both of them infamous for their tempers and famous for the high quality and fearlessness of their art. Their rivalry eventually blossomed into animosity and culminated in open enmity. They were perhaps too similar in some ways, but regardless a discussion about who had reserved a table at the Red Spire Inn cultivated in a knife fight. Both Slàine and Chausiku were accomplished duellists, a “hobby” both had taken up for the thrill. Both were so good that they had neglected defensive skills, since they were so used to winning. That meant that they went on the offensive, fuelled by quite a lot of white wine and stabbed each other simultaneously in the stomach. The fireflies and colourful lamps illuminated two artists dying. Slàine wore a white dress, Chausiku a light blue dress, both quickly soaked with blood. Within a matter of minutes, they were both declared dead by The Minister for Fisheries. He had been sitting and enjoying a viola concert by Kourosh Zann called a few streets away and was quickly brought to the scene of the double manslaughter as the nearest doctor.
Both Chausiku and Slàine had written wills specifying that they wanted their ashes used as fertilizer for the parks filled with potter’s orchids in the neighbourhood, a wish promptly ignored by everyone . The two artists had gotten plenty of special treatment already while they were living. They deserved none dead, so they were buried in the communal mausoleum like everyone else. Their art was said to be exhibited and fetch high prices long after their deaths, an example of the Free City of Jubylon’s insistence on separating art from the artists.