Flora
Of course she notices, Asta.
The gown is perhaps...unconventional for a meeting with Dahlia, but that hadn't been Flora's intent behind picking it, truth be told. Instead, she wanted him to see her bathed in a red so dark it would make her golden skin look pale in comparison, with a texture of lace that might be reminiscent of blood hazily speckled against a wet surface and left to run. "Feel the texture." She invites in a low voice, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.
Smoothing the panels down and standing straight to make his job somewhat easier, the Doubletake's posture improves by degrees as he begins cinching. "I'll let you know if it's too much." She purrs casually as if not realizing it was a promise she'd made to him before. "I take it you've done this before..?" Perhaps it's a more leading question than she's entitled to ask, though it's about as close to who was the last woman you dated? as she's going to ask.
As her waist becomes smaller and the boning lifts her breasts until they pool in perfect semicircles above the dark fabric, the queen finds the image of the butcher's soft intensity from behind her rather alluring and while she normally finds this a rather tiresome part of the process, she'd have seen his fingers thread ribbon through a thousand eyelets if it kept him focused on her the way he was.
The gown is perhaps...unconventional for a meeting with Dahlia, but that hadn't been Flora's intent behind picking it, truth be told. Instead, she wanted him to see her bathed in a red so dark it would make her golden skin look pale in comparison, with a texture of lace that might be reminiscent of blood hazily speckled against a wet surface and left to run. "Feel the texture." She invites in a low voice, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.
Smoothing the panels down and standing straight to make his job somewhat easier, the Doubletake's posture improves by degrees as he begins cinching. "I'll let you know if it's too much." She purrs casually as if not realizing it was a promise she'd made to him before. "I take it you've done this before..?" Perhaps it's a more leading question than she's entitled to ask, though it's about as close to who was the last woman you dated? as she's going to ask.
As her waist becomes smaller and the boning lifts her breasts until they pool in perfect semicircles above the dark fabric, the queen finds the image of the butcher's soft intensity from behind her rather alluring and while she normally finds this a rather tiresome part of the process, she'd have seen his fingers thread ribbon through a thousand eyelets if it kept him focused on her the way he was.
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Code stolen from Queen Sky
