Genur.art

integrated_multimodal_description: [Shot 1] Live-action, cinematic, retro-futuristic 1980s science-fiction, a low medium-wide shot frames the tailed baroness Serafina Iovine crossing a black granite dining hall sixty floors up, rain sheeting down a tall floor-to-ceiling window wall behind her while amber and magenta neon from the city below rakes across the ceiling in slatted bars. She is an Italian woman in her early forties with light olive skin, very fat and voluptuous, a broad soft belly, heavy pendulous breasts, thick arms and a wide double chin, her black hair lacquered into a high sculptural twist with one silver-streaked lock loose at her temple, her strong Roman nose and heavy-lidded dark brown eyes lit from one side. She wears a floor-length oxblood silk-velvet gown with sharply padded shoulders and a brass zipper running its full front, three ivory rings on her long manicured nails. A long fat tail of the same bare olive skin like the rest of her body extends from the base of her spine through a tailored slit in the velvet, heavy and thickly muscled, hanging almost to her ankles. The camera arcs right at slow speed as she walks, her tail swinging wide to the left, then right, once for each slow stride, the loaded tip trailing a beat behind each swing. At 00:01.800 she reaches a lit glass table where a man in a grey pinstripe suit (S2) stands before a floating cyan holographic chart of four restaurant floorplans, and her tail lifts and arcs behind her as she turns to face him. The baroness, with a low, smoky, unhurried voice and a Roman-Italian accent (S1), lays two fingertips on the glass and says: <d>[English] Show me the numbers.</d> At 00:03.400 she lowers herself into a wide steel chair and her tail curls in close around the chair leg, its tip flicking twice. Only then does the man (S2) lower himself into a chair across the table and answer quietly, <d>[English] Of course, Baroness.</d> overall_soundscape: Heavy rain drums against the tall window wall over a deep ventilation hum and the faint layered drone of air traffic far below. Thick velvet drags and rustles with each footstep on polished granite, and bare skin brushes the chair leg as long nails tap once on glass. non_diegetic_music: N/A