closed starter for @amethystwrites1x1
The first thing Arabella feels when she wakes is relief. Bright blue eyes lock onto familiar, warm-- brown and she feels her whole body relax. “Dorian--” She says his name softly-- fondly. And forgets herself enough to pull him into a hug. "You’re home.” It’s a testament to her lack of awareness, that she doesn’t feel embarassed until she pulls away. Her red curls have freed themselves from their braids and tumble out across her novel nightgown-- a stolen shirt. Dorian’s shirt. She shifts in the bed, still tangled in his sheets. The only place she’d managed to get any rest, was here-- in his room. The baby only seemed to settle here-- but she wasn’t sure how to begin explaining it. Suddenly, shame and embarrassment flicker to life in her gut and she blushes deeply. Like a child caught stealing sweets-- or sneaking away for an adventure. She feels found out. She sits up-- “I....I should probably leave you.. to rest and undress-- it must have been a long journey. Shall I call for a bath-- for you? What time is it? I wasn’t expecting you until Tuesday-- have I got my dates mixed up?” She rambles-- because she’s nervous, and embarrassed-- and vulnerable. The sun is peaking through the clouds, filling the room with soft, warm daylight. She feels the baby shift, and kick her. she winces softly at the strength of it-- “ sorry-- uh-- someone would like to say good morning to you too. i think they’ve missed you.’ she gestures to her stomach. “come-- feel.”
Lately the baby was restless at all hours-- more so, since Dorian left. It’s almost as if the child noticed the lack of his steady, grounding energy, as if the small..growing thing missed him and needs their mother to know it--and now wants to celebrate his return. As if Arabella hadn’t been extremely aware of his absence and desperately attempted to fill it, and failied horribly. In her unorthodox sleepwear, the bump is more notable, round- and present. She slips out of the bed. Her belly stretches out the front of the garment, the neckline scoops low, revealing her ample bosom, the hem reaches the tops of her thighs. it’s oddly-- the most bare she’s been around him and she is suddenly aware of the fact. “i... confess. i have no reason for wearing your clothes only-- that it soothed the little one some. and well--they’re comfortable. and....” and they smell like you. but those words die on her tongue. “...i may have overstepped. if i have, i am sorry--”
