Poet and storyteller Claire Trévien selected Failbetter Games' steampunk text adventure Fallen London. Kirsty used the familiar refrain of the game to bring the narrative swinging back around each time.
Here's what a mysterious stranger dropped through Claire's door:
And here's the poem to read (simpler text below, as the author was a scrawler):
For Claire Trévien
The Embassy is quiet tonight.
No lesser imps by sulphurlight.
You could go home and pour a tot.
No, you have business. Old acquaintance.
A scent of debt and smoking incense.
“I thought I’d have to have you caught.”
She welcomes you with blazing eyes.
“I do hope you can help,” she sighs.
“Perhaps you’ve never been this hot.”
She tells you that she’s burning up
and can’t be quenched by any cup.
Your legs are weak. The candle’s squat.
You hand her now the blotto youth.
“He’ll do quite well,” she purrs. In truth,
you nearly ask, “Do well for what?”
“Your hand is empty. Stay awhile.
I’d like to see that thieving smile.
You know, we both might learn a jot.”
“Well, I’ve jawed on for eons, kitten.
Tell me of your expedition.”
Rapt, she wants to hear the lot.
You tell her of the rubber men
who flubbled through the laudanum dens,
and nearly mention what they sought.
The Carnival. The iron knives.
You tell her you live many lives.
“With many souls? Now there’s a thought.”
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