#grandiloque

[ laces ] your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc

“Mmmm~ You have no idea how happy I am,” he murmured at her ear, leaning gently against her back with one arm sleepily wrapped around her lap. Emmeryn smiled behind her bashful flush, her fingers turning the curls of her hair together into neat, flouncing plaits. 

“I could say the same,” she mentioned before turning her head to kiss his lips. While Emmeryn was already working to get out of bed in a timely manner-- they were going to be needed elsewhere very soon and not have a moment of peace for the next week after they got off the boat-- Virion was lazily lounging still, trying to tempt her out of her chemise and back between the warm bedsheets.

“My darling, you are a work of art,” he added with a playful wink, which only made Emmeryn blush more. 

“Thank you, but we have to get ready for the day, Lucien.”

“What day? There is no day, we are on honeymoon,” he insisted with a chuckle. “Newlyweds shouldn’t be bothered with appointments.”

Emmeryn sighed out her own laughter, reluctantly standing from the bed. She moved to the wardrobe to select her corset for the day. Her clothing was always modest, but she did have one that was slightly more adorned than her others. It was a soft cream color, made from simple cotton with eyelet lace accents along the bosom line and front clasps.

“We’re not newlyweds, though,” she reminded him with a glance as she sucked in her stomach and wrapped the stays around herself, positioning each of her breasts properly into their cups. “We’re only married in Ylisse.”

Virion got a devilish glint in his eye. In a strong, fluid motion, he cast aside the bedding and rose from the bed, moving to her and running his hand around her corseted waist to pull her close. “I know,” he murmured, kissing her cheek adoringly. “That only makes it more exciting. I’ve finally ravished an innocent maiden. The scandal is unbearable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Emmeryn laughed at that, resting both her hands against his chest. The strings of her corset were loose against her back, hanging in slight disarray off of her shoulder blades. 

“You’re too much, Lucien.”

“Makes you glad you married me, yes~?” he purred before gently turning her around in his arms. His hands swiftly began to pull her corset strings into all the right places, fitting it perfectly to her form before tying them off into a neat bow at the bottom.

“So when you write those suspicious letters home, are you writing about how much you love kissing my sister?”

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗💗“I mean, objectively speaking it’s true...” 

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗💗💗“You’re a good friend, Virion, even if you do occasionally annoy me. But then again, I hear most friends do from time to time.”

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗“It’s not really the time for that sort of thing, but I wouldn’t be...wholly opposed to it.”

       The unimpressed look in her eyes fails to waver as Virion speaks, and when he finishes it’s all Cordelia can do to keep her eyes from rolling. She had to give him credit, though; at least he never seemed to run out of things to say. One would think it would be harder to speak in flowery language than he made it seem.

       His nonchalant manner bothered her, though - how exactly did he find it easy to talk so all the time, with his heart both seemingly on his sleeve and not? It didn’t seem fair.

💔 Non-existent💗 Very low💗💗 A little💗💗💗 Hopeful💗💗💗💗 High💗💗💗💗💗 Maximum

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗💗“Come now, Lucien, don’t pretend otherwise.”

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗💗💗💗“You have been my closest friend since we were infants.”

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗“Wh-Why must you ask this, you know I’m uncomfortable with discussing such things, Lucien--”

ROMANTIC INTENT: 💗💗💗💗💗 “I... know that our courtship is... unconventional and rather secret, but...”

She gulped as she stepped forward, her cheeks were burning pink. But he had smiled in a sad sort of way, and asked her so softly, so gently. Please. 

With a hand delicately placed on his shoulder, Emmeryn stood before him and she leaned close. Her neck stretched up as best she could, her hand tight on her cane to keep her up on her toes. Her lips found his in a tentative way, and it felt so warm and familiar. Had she not already known that they had a long history of romance between them, she would have remembered it all over again then.

She held herself there for a moment, trying to soak up that feeling of familiar warmth. There were many things she had remembered of Virion since her recovery began, and with the war over and months of therapy in Ylisstol under her belt, she felt more confident in her ability not to hurt him with forgetting.

But still, she had more to recall. She had to remember the moments, the conversations, their childhood, their secrets. Every little piece of who they used to be so that she could kiss him not with a sense of new, but with a sense of always been.

Green eyes blinked and looked down at his chin for a moment, her own face was bright with a blush.

Emmeryn gasped, her entire body startling nearly out of her skin as the door of the private bath opened. It was a small room, simple and intimate. A porcelain tub with golden claw feet and a deep basin. Lovely blue and white tiles on the floor. Sheer curtains and a dressing screen for personal comfort. Plush towels at the ready.

It was meant for one.

Emmeryn’s hands bolted up as if two palms could hide her nakedness that easily, and her face turned a deep shade of scarlet. 

“L-Lucien, what are you doing?” she stammered. Virion only smiled and sauntered his way in, dressed only in a silk dressing robe.

“Well, you’re in my bath, so why don’t we share?” he offered. “After all, that’s what newly weds do. They share.”

Emmeryn still flushed, but she didn’t send him away. They WERE married now, even if only freshly so. And last night had been beautiful. She just had to break her old habits of iron clad virtue.

My muse has been acting strange, send one for you muse to...

Without a single sound, they had approached, and three sets of arms wrapped around her. Two tiny toddles on each leg, and one small set that just barely reached around her middle. Emmeryn smiled a wistful, sad smile as she felt them. Her girls.

“Darlings,” she murmured, reaching down hands and arms to pat them all and bring the girls up to face her. Fleur stood tall, defiant against the urge to cry, while the twins were too young to understand what was happening around them.

“Mama...” Fleur whimpered, her little hands clutching against her dress. Her eyes welled with tears. “Don’t go.”

Emmeryn didn’t want to. But she had no choice. If she did not hand herself over to Gangrel, he would scourge Ylisse. He would kill her people, her freinds, her family-- even her daughters. And Emmeryn had to protect them, above all others.