Shopping to Celebrate Wedded Bliss

[Mirielle Bellamont]

Shopping, for me, was of a love-hate relationship. I rather enjoyed getting something new to wear, but I wasn't overly fond of shopping to find it. I'd worked on documents that called for immediate attention from my estate throughout the morning and the early afternoon, and, both reluctantly and not, I changed my attire and set off to Mont Nuit to shop for a dress to attend the wedding in.

This would be the third dress I'd bought since arriving; the first two I'd paid dearly for and likely would again with this one, but such as it was when I was still new to the City and needing to appear of-rank. My carriage dropped me off and rolled off to sit with others awaiting their patrons, and, pressing my hands over my hips to smooth my skirts, I moved down the street.

Roughly half a block later I entered a shoppe that held promising dresses in one of the two outside windows, my eyes blinking to adjust to the change of lighting as I looked around.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

I'd left the Kid on Night's Doorstep, not bothering to go home right away, wondering if I may, or may not, find a model worthy of my interest. The sketches I'd worked on at Anacrasia's home were fresh in my mind, but I wanted a second project to keep my mind busy.

A woman was dropped off almost in front of me. Nevermind the fact that she never saw me. Nevermind that her honey colored hair was perfect, as was her demeanor, her gait, and the way she assuredly made her way to the shops. Nevermind any of that. Her body was perfect - and I wanted to see her skin.

Stalking as perfectly as my habits had taught me, I followed her, and in her wake entered the darkened shop, slipping in the rows of prepared gowns and dresses. The cheer of the place sickened me already - but I was intent, and so I blended in the background, waiting for my opportunity.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

I itched.

Ignoring it, I made my way to the racks of dresses and began the long, fairly dull process of sifting through them, though I studied each intently before moving to another. I had a vague idea of the color I wanted, though I wasn't so set that I was unwilling to pick a different one if it were right. A dark red dress, bordering a lush purple, caught my attention more than the others, though as I pulled it from the rack another itch lit between my shoulder blades, bringing my attention around.

No one caught my eye; there were other shoppers here, mingling and looking through the clothing offered, but each seemed absorbed in what they were doing. I kept the slightly confused frown from my face as I looked back at the dress, holding it up before me for a better inspection.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

My eyes were taking stock of her, her attitude, her body, her silhouette, but soon, did didn't suffice.

Shuffling through the racks, I let out a summon, to have the pleasure of her face, "Elua's balls," loud enough to steal her attention, though I never looked up. My eyes were ready to capture the sweet design of her face, and my face was the mask of annoyance, as though I wasn't finding what I had come to find.

I maintained my pretense shuffling through the dresses, finding the design, sincerely, plainly awful.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

The material was wonderful in my fingers, though the color was too dark for a wedding in the spring; still, I might be able to have it duplic... A prominent, loud voice stammered a curse not too far from me, and instinctively I looked, curiosity and surprise mingling on my face. A few different shoppers were nearby, though all it took was one of them looking and the annoyed, semi-disgusted frown on the other to let me know which had spoken, and I looked at him before I could really catch myself.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

I felt her gaze on me, like a million suns burning through my skull, and it displeased me completely. I looked up, ready to snarl, but her face was that of a divine creature, and instead, I smiled agreeably.

"I'm so sorry, did I say that outloud?" I asked ingenuously. My eyes already took stock of her front, and it was just as delicious as her behind.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

I didn't know what to react to first.

His face looked as if it were forming at least a fierce grimace when he brought his attention up, though that may well have been associated with his... irritance... of the previous moment. And then he smiled, his face turning something akin to lovely, though there was an instant feeling that made what would have otherwise have been a wonderful gesture seem... Oiled.

A shudder was building, though I pushed it away stubbornly, my lips instead parting, caught between a gasp and the conflicting want to smile. "I believe so," I said, torn between keeping my gaze on his and taking it away once more. "If it weren't you, then the elderly lady to your left is likely to blame."

My eyes left his to glance at the woman who was oblivious to it all, and I lowered the deep red dress, pressing it to my stomach as I looked back to the man.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

I chuckled, and gave her a smirk. The chit had a sense of humor, at least.

She was trying to smile, and to repress that urge to run that the intelligent usually felt in my presence, that is, when I wasn't offering myself up to their favors. I needed to be careful, lest she read my true nature, I noted.

Eying the dress she was holding to herself, and using it as an excuse to detail her form, I said, smiling, eyes twinkling with my own humor, though she might believe it was with hers, "I don't know how it will look on you, but blood red is indeed an enthralling color."

[Mirielle Bellamont]

He seemed pleasant enough in an outward fashion, and I gave him an honest smile in return before dropping my eyes to the dress I held. His eyes had traced over my midsection at the least before I looked away and I immediately shifted the dress away from my stomach, letting it shield me slightly, though the way I stood meant it blocked only a portion of me; it'd have been awkward and obvious to shift it more.

"Do you think so?" I asked softly, glancing back from the dress and to him again. "I'm afraid I don't own dresses of that particular shade."

I wasn't daft; I had a good idea of what he meant with his comment, though at the same time he'd been nothing but pleasant and I was trying to be too. I gave him another smile, this one just as sincere and honest as the last, though the itch between my shoulders had grown more... Ah. Oiled.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

She shifted the dress so subtly, if I hadn't been the target of her shielding, I wouldn't have noticed or understood. Ah. Smart, too smart for her own good.

The knowledge of the throwing knife at my forearms made me itch - but I am no fool, and no amateur. "Then you should try it," I suggested sweetly, "I am certain this color would look sublime on you."

I let my eyes wander back to the rack, ignoring her for now. The itch was too powerful - I needed it to subside, lest my eyes betray me.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

I glanced to the dress before me as he spoke, holding it out and taking it into my view. "Mayhap I should," I said as I glanced up to him again, though he was no longer looking at me. Interest lost, apparently.

My gaze lingered on him for a moment before I turned back to the rack I'd been studying, continuing to sift through them. No more reds did I select, but a selection of greens nearly matching the hue I'd decided on before stepping foot into the shoppe, and one lavender.

Taking my selections with me I made my way to the dressing rooms and stepped in one. I glanced out at where the man had been standing before shutting the door behind me and stripping from my dress, letting it lay across a bench as I sifted through the dresses. The lavender I tried on first though I took it off nearly instantly, disliking the fit and feel. After that came a few greens to which I went out of my room to study in the tri-fold mirror, turning and looking over my form, viewing the fit from as many sides as I could before going back in to switch into a new one. The other two green dresses I never wore out, and in the end hung the red dress.

I stared at it for a long, quiet moment before I took it down and put it on; it was silly, really, to shy from something such as this because of a comment someone made, and I honestly did like the cut and style. Stepping back out of the room, I walked to the mirror, my attention focused, the same as it had been with the green dresses. It fit wonderful, if a little loose in the waist, though taking it in was simply done. I lifted my hair and turned, looking at the back, a thoughtful look on my face.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

The moment she'd turned her eyes away, mine lifted from the back, taking stock of her choices. Green, blue, and lavender. While the first too left me indifferent, the third almost made me gag - it was a sickly color that made me think of puppies and kittens. Sickening, really.

She went to the changing room, oblivious to my silent observance, and she came out in green twice, twirling on herself, giving me a good view of her moving ability. She was delicious, really. I would have stayed where I was, looking absorbed in a canari shirt that made me want to hurt someone, when she came out in that red dress looking stunningly sultry.

It wasn't my style, but I crept up, and all self absorbed that she was, she never saw me, until I spoke, purposely making her crawl out of her skin an instant. "I told you, that this color was sublime on you, and it is," I said loud enough to startle her, but not loud enough to startle the rest of the shoppe.

This was between her, and me.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

Oiled rain. Acidic. I jumped as his voice rang out, feeling as if it were crawling into my skull and burying itself within my spine. My hair lifted from my shoulders as I turned my head about to look at him, startlement still apparent in my features, and with a short breath I struggled to comprehend what he said.

"Thank you," I said softly, my shoulders settling themselves as I attempted to draw my wit back into me. "I have to admit though; I don't think red suits me well." Not well at all if that was what he liked. There was something off about him, something that made me wary, and unconsciously I ran my hands over the sides of my waist. "Are you shopping for something in particular?" I asked conversationally, though trying to get the focus off of myself.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

A loud chuckle left me at the look on her face. "Did I startle you? I'm sorry if I did," I told her, not sorry in the least, save for the part where she didn't out right bark at me.

I took one step, only one, in her direction, telling her, "I'm shopping for a model, that's what," and my words were somewhat sweet, tainted in the vision I had of her body covered in that dress, in that lustful color. "Besides, I disagree, it is sultry - very much so. Believe an artist's word." My tone was actually sincere - she was magnificent - there was no need to lie to flatter her.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

A frown fought its way onto my features as he took a step towards me; in truth I wanted more distance, not less. Elua, I wished I had another dress to hold before me now, something to put between us rather than a stark expanse of empty air. At least there were other people in the shop; I thanked Elua for that, and even though they were all absorbed in what they were doing... At least they were there.

My hair fell over my shoulder as I glanced down to the dress I wore, thankful of the looseness in the waist, the lack of tightness over my legs, and it dawned on me. He was cowing me, pushing me, and I very much thought he knew what he was doing. I drew up on myself, catching my pride and straightening my posture, my ire beginning to rise.

"Here's hoping my love will think so too," I said, looking up to boldly catch his gaze, forcing myself not to tear them away as soon as I looked on him. "You are shopping for a model; someone to pose for you while you work on your art?"

It was hard, so hard to keep myself as I was, not to draw back a step to widen the distance between us again. He was beginning to squirm into me no matter how hard I fought it, and I couldn't help but be creeped out.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

The more she was prickled, the more I was amused. The place crooked a little, and so I leaned against the wall, gauging her reaction, not moving closer, but showing her my ability to deploy.

"The one you love is blessed to have your affection. And they will think you are stunning," I told her, grinning at her show of visible pride. "And yes, I am looking for someone to inspire my art," I added, my gaze suddenly calculating her proportions.

Cocking my head to the side, I asked, cockily, "Would you consider?"

[Mirielle Bellamont]

I followed him without blinking as he moved to lean against the wall, the fine hairs on the back of my neck threatening to rise. "As I'm blessed to have his affection," I said automatically, though in the very center of my heart I winced. Pushing thoughts of Gillermo from my head, I focused on the man before me. Gil would distract me too much, cause wanton wishes in me, give this man a crack to prod around in if he saw me mistep. Besides, Gil wasn't here to protect me, and I would handle my own.

I kept myself held as tall as my frame would allow as he blatantly looked me over, and though I was able to still the muscles in my face from frowning again, I couldn't help my breath catching in my lungs.

"I've considered a great many things, my Lord," I said, giving him a generalized title. "Being a model has never been one of them, though, and likely never will be. My duties lay elsewhere."

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

There was a subtle shift in her as she spoke of her love. Excellent.

My gaze turned about, and I looked at a young woman who was sporting something rather revealing, though the geometrics of her body were rather acceptable. Looking at her, and ignoring the blond brat, I said, I said absently, "How regrettable. I could have made you beautiful, enough to pry your love's eyes open to the real you."

[Mirielle Bellamont]

The oil slid from my skin as he looked away, leaving a filmy residue that made me ache to bathe and try to scrub away. My hands went to my bare upper arms as he spoke, unconsciously rubbing them, though as his words settled in I gave an outright frown. "Regrettable indeed," I said, my words holding a tightness that spoke of my attempt to control myself. "If what it takes is your time to open my loves eyes, then I think I should rather die alone."

The words were spat at the end, and my arms had dropped, my posture straight and regal. He picked at the one piece of me that sent a bolt of pain through me, piercing my heart and making me cringe inwardly. Did Gil still want me? I didn't know. The gods damn me, but I didn't know.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

Oh, but she was so very inviting, this little blond fairy.

My eyes flickered back to her, finding her gaze, chasing it, pinning it. "That can be arranged, M'Lady," and I tucked my hands under my armpits, where she would not see the strain on my fisted hands, my knuckles turning white in an effort not to draw knife and stick it under her precious throat.

Oh, but it would be so delightful, to trace a fine line of pain on her fair skin, to slit it open delicately, to taste her blood as she whimpered in fear, the worthless chit.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

A deep, inner piece of me throbbed, guarding me and blocking me from the emotions the man swirled in me, causing me to react differently than I might have otherwise. With his words I remained where I was, my hands clutching into the fabric of my dress as I lofted my chin to stare directly into his polluted gaze. "And how do you propose that?"

Formalities and courteousys were dropped on my half - he'd offended me, purposely, and I would do him no favors of such. My chest swelled as I took in a breath and held it, still staring at him, the throbbing deep within me beginning to fade.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

My smirk widened to something feral, and I replied slyly, "But you know better than I, for you have already set your fate, and let yourself be alone," I told her, not wanted to say more.

Under my shoulders, my fists were clenched hard enough that I felt the pain of my own nails digging in my palms - and somehow, it grounded me. I let the pain be my countenance, and the snarl regained a semblance of humanity.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

I stared at him while he spoke, my face void of expression, my hands forcing my fingers to release my dress. "Because I choose not to model for you, I shall be alone?" I just barely held back a scoff for it; it wasn't me to be so openly mocking, and besides that, I found that the more the throbbing ebbed the more wary of the man I truly was; all I wanted at this point was to rid myself of this damned dress and leave the store and his presence.

Soon.

For now, I looked at him, then took a solitary, bold step in his direction. Was I afraid? Hells yes. Would I let my fear show? Absolutely not, not if I could help myself. My gaze was clear as I looked at him, my ire beyond the point of sparked by now, though a piece in me gnawed a warning. "What is your name?"

I asked it softly, though no less demanding an answer. I wanted to look away, to fix my gaze elsewhere and strip out of this dress at the same time, but I couldn't. I wouldn't.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

I smiled. Genuinely, I smiled. The little fairy was just too pretty, too proud, too good to be true.

And she wanted my name. Would I give it to her? No. Not my name.

"Edouard," I replied matter-of-factly, like it was the name my mother had given me, and I'd borne it all my life. The fact that I'd deliberately lied about my name helped. Every little affront I made allowed me to refrain from thinking of the darker side of my art.

"And your loneliness has nothing to do with me, or my art. It has everything to do with you, and the way you treat others. If you took flattery, instead of throwing it back to those who give it, if you accepted praise as graciously as you walked, solitude would be no threat to you," I told her in a tone that was sweet and gentle, like that annoying kitten I'd left the Kid with.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

Edouard? With the sort of interaction we'd indulged in, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he had just blatantly and knowingly lied to me, but no matter. The last thing I would be doing is giving him my name in turn - he made me feel unclean and furious at the same time.

"Please accept my sincere apologies, Edouard," I said, my tone forced civil, though laced with an edge, "Though I don't remember stating I was lonely, nor at hinting around it; for that matter I never threw any flattery back at you." I continued to look at him, daring to look away only long enough to blink; he'd moved quickly once already, and I had zero trust in him. A few patrons around us moved away, watching warily, though I paid them little heed.

This damned City - I was torn, so torn. I'd met someone who I loved and adored and lost him just as quickly, and now I was forever teetering on the brink of going to him, even when my mind was set. August I hadn't seen outside of the banquet, and I ached to see him again, missing him terribly. And now this - on top of all else, this.

I refused to give him Gillermos name, not wanting this man to know any more of my intimate side than he already guessed at. Instead I altered my life to protect myself, though I did it seamlessly, my face and voice showing nothing, hoping to drive him away from me, to keep me from having to turn my back on him to walk away.

"Prince Augustin de Trevalion, Sovereign Duc of Azzalle" I said, my voice softening, though my eyes remained fierce. "If you doubt my love or his, speak to him and let yourself become enlightened, Edouard."

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

Little fairy, little fairy. Too intelligent for your own good, that you are.

I’d hit home, though – the dagger in her sugar-coated manners, the way she flashed a Prince of the Blood’s name in my face. It was impossible to ignore the signs. She was suffering, lonely, and not as loved as she claimed. In her place, I would not have cared – for no one loved me, no one ever had. But her… she cared a great deal about being loved.

I took one step. Only one, and it was deliberately slow, as though I’d made sure she saw me move – I had control.

My hands left my sides as I reclined more comfortably against the wall. “And who should I ask your Prince about, should fate let us cross paths?” I asked off handedly, nipping one of my overly long nails off. I’m made myself bleed a little, and a small trail of blood snaked down my palm. It took all my restraint for me not to lick it with delight, and instead, I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, lest the blood stain the shop's floor.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

One step of his, one of mine, one more of his. I kept a tally of it in my head as I watched the blood drain from his finger, watched the way he looked at it, the subtle show of strain as it trailed beet red along his flesh. My stomach churned, fear laced through my bones, and for a moment I wondered what was to happen next. I didn't care about his taunts any longer, didn't care about the offenses he'd caused purposely and the joy he showed in my reactions - all I cared about was being away from this man, this... thing that made me feel the need to look over my shoulder. I would have, had the monster that might be lurking behind me not be in front of me instead.

"She who cares for him without fail," I said flatly. Gods, how in the seven hells I was going to get away from him I didn't know. He made me want to scrub myself clean, but more than that I was frightened, my heart clutched in my throat. In truth I wished I had August with me now, his imposing form a rock to lean on. I loved Gillermo - there was no doubt in that, but I didn't know where we stood, and that ate and hurt me as much as anything else.

I had no one, though, save myself, standing in a dress of blood and no guard. "Our time has come to an end, Edouard," I said softly, though with a lace of venom that only counteracted my fear slightly. "May Elua bless you, for I don't know if anyone else will."

I kept my eyes on him as I turned, watching him until I was forced to look away as I made my way back to the changing rooms. Oh Elua, Elua.

Gillermo, August. Oh gods.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

All that she said, all that she did… nip, nip, nip.

I have 10 fingers. Each of them was methodically clipped of its nail, the little blood stains on my handkerchief blatant, and I’d said naught, my gaze never leaving her. Gods, this was amusing. It seemed she needed very little to be sparked, and I enjoyed it tremendously.

Amusingly, the more she hated me, the less I wanted to hurt her body, the appeal of her physical pain not even casting the idea of a shadow on the interest her ire was causing. She was entertaining.

She left me to go change with a blessing that was a curse, and I grinned – she was right, and I did not care. I was promised to hell already, and so what I did, and who blessed me mattered very, very little. I only took great care not to be executed, because I still found a measure of entertainment in my own life.

I stayed there, and picked out for her something sublime. A dress of deep green, in her exact measurements – trust a sculptor’s eye on that – with golden embroidery that spilled from the bodice to the skirt, and hugged her tight waist… yes, she would best even the bride in that dress.

My hand was free of blood, the handkerchief put away, and I waited.

[Mirielle Bellamont]

Once I had shut the door behind me, I leaned against it, my breath shallow in my lungs. I caught myself listening for footsteps, faint footsteps, and once I did I chided myself, moving to strip myself out of this cursed dress.

Once it was gone I left it in a pile on the floor, unable to touch it again, unwanting to even look at it lest it somehow summon the attention of him again. Snatching my own dress from where I'd lain it down, I donned it quickly, my arms twisting behind me to hastily button up my dress. I didn't know if they were all done right, if they met their partners seamlessly, though if it were off it was only by one, mayhap two, and my hair should cover it.

I gathered a breath before leaving the room, abandoning all clothing I'd brought in with me, schooling my face to stillness, of one devoid of emotion. My instinct was torn between fear and anger and I wanted to show neither to him if he indeed were still around; as I stepped out I used my side vision to see if he were still where he was, but I refused to blatantly look for him.

[Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D)]

She came out looking like she'd been attacked.

I congratulated myself. I no longer needed to physically act, it seemed. A nod, and the dress was taken to her by the clerk.

Quietly, softly, gently, in the ways I so found annoying, but my features schooled to angelicness, I said, "Well, what about this one?"

I didn't go closer to her. No - I did not. It was simple - I didn't want her scare all the time - just once in a while, at my whim.

If she let me, I would even perhaps push the game as far as apologizing. But then again, maybe not.