you could call me babe for the weekend

Flora

Having told Asta to meet her by one of the little fountains that heralded the entry into Torchline's bustling marketplace—it was an easy enough landmark to explain on parchment—the queen took a moment to compose herself. After a quick little breakdown after returning home from the Climb and their disastrous first date, Flora had, as Jack had recommended, got her shit together and shaken herself loose from the nightmares of her own self-doubt and rejection issues. Or, at least she'd been able to distance herself from them enough not to have knots of stress forming in her upper back and neck.

Dressed in a tailored white sundress with embroidered florals of sea blue trickling along her waist and hem, the queen's curls were kept off her neck in a high ponytail both to keep her cool, but equally to highlight the sapphire earrings that sparkled with a deep blue fire in the sunlight.

It wasn't so hot for the queen to worry about melting on their little outing, but she still had a bottle of water in her purse (as well as a bottle of healing fountain water), and a little paper fan as well.

Waiting for the butcher, Flora let her fingers trickle through the fountain's water. Despite their disastrous first date, that they were meeting for a second— with a third tentatively planned as well—was a significant departure from the relationships the queen had found herself in, in the past. Koa had yet to take her on their first, whereas Jack was stalled at just one.

If Asta wasn't careful, he'd unwittingly become her most serious relationship yet.

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Asta is truly going to have to start realizing that rather than shopping sprees and accidental near murders, agreeing to these dates is truly courting. For now, though, blissfully unaware and wanting to make up for everything that had happened in the Climb, the butcher has made his preparations, has dressed both up and down — not the floral shirt of before, but this time a tight fitting and tucked in teal shirt, sleeves rolled up to allow for some amount of sun exposure. A vest accompanies his chest as well, dark grey and pinstriped that match his pair of pants. Black wingtip shoes finish off the baseline of the outfit.

A silver chain hangs from the pocket of the vest to a loop attached at the side, a matching one to the band along his black obsidian horns. It’s their soft clinking that may be drowned out by the bustling market crowd, but not the dull click of the cane that heralds his arrival toward Flora‘s meeting spot.

He sees her nearly immediately, stuffing down any previous feelings that might rise in order to make sure today goes well. And with this much sun cascading down onto them, she would be able to see how his hair is slicked back and dark enough to be a true black in comparison to the horns nestled within, sparking up with an oil slick sheen of reds and oranges, yellows and greens. Just like his eyes, dark in any other light are actually quite a lovely shade of copper when enough light is available to brighten them up.

All things she would notice the second he steps up before her and offers his polite bow, the bright and too sharp smile, rising back to his full height to extend out his hand toward her (and selfishly look her over to make sure nothing else terrible like him had happened to her since their last encounter). “Hello Flora, darling. You look radiant.” His eyes linger on the earrings of the sapphires he’d sent her, his smile widening a fraction brighter as his tail sweeps carefully behind him in content.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

Being a gentleman and a people-pleasure was going to see Asta fumbling through vows he'd prepared thinking he was just writing something nice about Flora for some celebration she'd planned. Ahh well, it'd probably make for a good story one day.

Turning at the sound of a cane, Flora of course is easily able to pick Asta out across the crowd, and not simply because of his height. Though he'd dressed 'down', his choice of outfit still rendered the boho-chic stylings of Torchline into something that looked ragged and cheap in comparison. It was almost impossible to drink him in all at once if only because despite the queen's attempts to hone in on the little details—the chain of silver around his waist, the dark opalescent sheen of his horns, the veins on his hands—her eyes were continually drawn back to his eyes, no longer a predatory black as they'd been when she last saw him, but a burning mahogany that had her beaming up at him.

"Hey you." She purrs, slipping her hand into his. Noting the way his eyes had dropped to her earrings, the queen lifted her jaw as she tilted her head, allowing the light to fracture off of the cut of the sapphires and sparkle across her shoulder. "What do you think?"

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

He’s probably think how nice it was to play around in poetics, with Flora as his muse, without realizing what exactly he was getting into. After all, modern marriage wasn’t exactly something the butcher knew all too much about. There simply was no such thing in his clan, and when he’d gotten to learn how the outside world worked, it was far more geared toward arrangements (at least in the circles he spent time with, given his fashion sense and his gentlemanly learnt behavior).

She doesn’t shy away from him at the sight of him and gods if that isn’t relieving tenfold. The smile brightens when her hand slides into his warm one, meeting her own gaze time and time again to find them that brilliant aqua shade, and pride lingers in his stomach at the fact he’d managed to pick a pair of sapphires that matched nearly perfectly.

Dipping down again so that he might place a kiss to the back of her hand, he rises just enough to see her show off the earrings, nearing and invading her space briefly to inspect them, the shards of light that spark and reflect the sun with each way she moves. “I think they look better than I had even imagined they could.” He starts to say, drawing back up to his full height again. “They suit you perfectly, darling.” He gives her hand a squeeze, unsure how close they are with this second date whether or not he could be more casual in the touches he offers, so he remains reserved.

“So, what is it that you are seeking? Or is it my personal favorite of perusing until something catches your eye that you cannot live without?” That grin remains sharp as he tears his gaze away to look around the market briefly like it was some kind of mission.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

Humming adoringly as he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, the queen is more than happy to welcome the butcher into her personal space and as she tilts her chin higher for him to regard his gifts dangling from her ears, that it leaves the entirety of her throat exposed is hardly something she's even aware of. If anything, she's pleased to do it that he might smell the notes of jasmine and mandarin (it's flora gorgeous by gucci, we decided at the airport) that make up her perfume.

"I almost thought about turning them into rings, but.." Glancing at her hands, the fingers of one still curled against his, the Doubletake shrugs. "But I didn't want them to have to fight for attention." She says, and where Asta thinks keeping a respectful distance is what the situation requires, Flora unsurprisingly, thinks quite the opposite. Not wanting it to seem as if they'd lost any familiarity despite how their last date had gone, the queen helps herself to his arm, sliding hers around it and comfortably fitting her fingers just above the bend in his elbow.

"I was actually hoping to find something a touch formal. Not stuffy, though. Something that speaks of authority but that doesn't seem to be trying too hard." Letting her gaze rove up his perfectly tailored outfit, the queen grins. "Of course you were the first person I thought to ask." As for stumbling upon something she couldn't live without? Flora raises her eyebrows, choosing to read into that statement in a way undoubtedly the ancient hadn't meant it. (He'd meant her, right? Right?) "I think that's something we should always be doing." She purrs warmly.

Leading Asta through the cluttered stalls, she eventually edges them off toward a sidestreet that was significantly less busy. "This is one of my favourite boutiques." She explains, and as they enter the butcher might understand why there wasn't as much traffic: the little shop dripped with decadence the likes of which most Torcher's probably couldn't afford.

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Her scent does invade his nose, in a way that has him drinking it in – of all the notes that are notably different than those he’s become accustomed to – he seems satisfied by both that and the way the earrings sparkle and reflect. And luckily for her, the exposure of her neck is met with naught more than a glance for the time being, as if to prove that the bruises had vanished.

Standing back up to settle with the perfect posture, Astaroth’s copper eyes drop to the hand still in his, to her long and smooth fingers that he’d felt roam across his body, working at gnarled, hardened scars to try and smooth them out. It’s a thought that he pushes aside to flash his bright grin back at her. “We want accompaniment to show off assets, not to detract.” He agrees with a twitch of his grin toward a playful smirk. It doesn’t last that long, though, as she sidles up in against him like nothing ever happened and he’s content to loop the hook of the cane over his other arm so that his hand might rest on the one tangled with his, adding that additional touch for her.

Watching as she gives him a good look, he straightens a little more, letting the light glint from the hue of his horns to the silver chains that adorn his outfit, before a deep and warm chuckle escapes him. “Ah, yes, I know just the type.” Precisely what he’d done today, as it turns out, because he could have gone over the top with a coat atop it and the sleeves down, but had opted to seem more casual. He does not read into his words the way that Flora had, so when she responds with a warm purr his smile is still just as glued to his face. “I agree, darling.” It was precisely why he had a closet that was nearly too full.

Walking with her and keeping her just as close as they make their way through the throngs of crowds and stalls, Astaroth doesn’t glamour away his horns or tail – if someone runs into the tail weaving behind him, well, that was their own fault. He cuts through the crowd with her like they belong – she most of all, given she’s their Queen – and he is simply the accompanier.

The shop they walk into greets him with a warm hug of decadence that even he seems a touch starstruck by, and Flora would be able to feel the way his shoulders and the tension in his arms seem to relax at the mere sight of it. “I can certainly see why.” Greeted with a refreshing and inviting scent and colors to make much of what he’d grown used to seem drab in comparison, he drifts further in with her toward the center as if to get a better look. “So are you thinking you might prefer a dress for it? Or trousers and blouses that scream authority?” His accent purrs over the words as he cocks his head toward her, the silver chain dangling with the movement from one of his horns.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

Blushing as his hand covers hers—maybe they were okay? maybe they'd never need to talk about what had happened except to reassure one another they wouldn't make the same mistakes twice?—Flora tucks herself neatly at his side, her long legs able to match the steps of his even longer ones.

"It's to meet with Dahlia, if I ever have occasion to see her again." The queen hums, the namedrop casually said. "I have a feeling that looking good won't necessarily impress her, but that not looking the part would put me at a definite disadvantage." Flora explains, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the general murmur of the afternoon crowd.

Subtly Flora scans the faces of those milling about for one in particular, one with too-blue eyes beneath a mop of dark hair. While she'd made Jack promise not to blast canon fire directly into the ancient's face, there were all sorts of things that the captain hadn't promised not to do. Still, if Jack was milling about Flora doubted if she'd be able to see him before he was ready to be seen, anyway.

The shopkeeper waves excitedly as Flora arrives, the queen being one of his best customers (and likely one of the few who could properly afford his rates). Turning toward Asta, the owner gives the ancient an appraising look, clearly impressed not only by the cut of his clothes but in their assembly and pairings as well. "And just who are we shopping for today my queen?" He wonders, his eyes dancing back and forth between she and Asta. Grinning, the queen gives the butcher's arm a squeeze before pulling away. "Both, I think." She chimes, crinkling her nose affectionately at the butcher before shrugging a touch latently at his question.

"Why don't we try both and you can decide for me?"

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

If there is one thing to make the relaxed touch between them seem anything less than, it’s the sudden tension that blooms in the twitch of his fingers that cover her hand with the name drop – Dahlia was a name he knew from Danta, in the precise understanding that she was dangerous, and yet here Flora was saying that she wanted to look nice in case she had to meet her again, and it takes every ounce of him attempting to remain subtle that he doesn’t just turn his head immediately to stare at her in wide eyed confusion.

Instead, he hums a note that’s quiet as well, for her ears only as he recognizes not a single person in the crowd that she scans, especially blissfully unaware of any captain in Torchline that had it out for him. “There is an incredible power in the impression you give by what you choose to wear.” He agrees, flashing her that same smile even as they stop before the shopkeeper, standing tall and with his posture impeccable as he’s inspected. “Both, as well as a gift.” He tacks on, looking toward Flora briefly as she answers his question belatedly.

“Perfect.” He was more than happy to, truthfully. And as he tilts his dark gaze back toward the shopkeep, he cocks his head a fraction in curiosity. “You have a beautiful shop here. Where might we find your selection of corsets, vests, and fabrics?” He asks, his accent pouring over the words with surprising ease, still keeping Flora close and his hand resting over her own.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

Whether or not Flora has felt the slight twitch of Danta's fingers where they overlay her skin or if she's simply told this story often enough to know what he must be thinking, she sighs casually before filling in some of the more pertinent details. "After she crashed that little gathering Maea held—I'm sure you heard all about it—I thought it best to try and smooth over any feathers that had been ruffled. Keeping enemies close, and all that."

Tickling her fingers up Asta's arm before pulling away and moving toward a section of corsetted gowns, she touches various fabric and bits of detailing as she waits for something to catch her eye.

"Ah! Over here—" The shop was a bit of a warren in that most areas that appeared to be dead ends in fact simply led to stairs which, when descended, revealed yet more clothing. In fact, the deeper in the better supply, as if everything on the main level was merely meant to catch the attention of someone walking by. Adorning the walls were bolts of fabric, all fairly light materials given the region's coastal temperatures. Some featured woven scenes as if to replicate paintings of Torchline life, whereas others were simply meant to represent a singular aspect of Torcher life: blue cloth, the precise colour of the sea at dusk and another at dawn, one representing a stormy sky and another the colour of sea glass, and so on. "Was there something in particular you were looking for?" The shopkeeper wondered, clasping his hands politely behind his back.

Upstairs one of the assistants was grabbing every item Flora nodded to, only disappearing from her side once her pile was too big, before returning fresh.

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

The details are a much more welcome addition to the thoughts that are immediately running through his head – notably, how the butcher had been suddenly far too possessive and worried about Danta’s safety in that moment, the second he’d told him about it. But that’s neither here nor there, and was a long time ago at this rate, so he nods to say that he had heard it, while also humming a note of agreement to her thought pattern. “You are wise, darling.” He compliments softly, flashing her a touch softer of a smile as she pulls away and he plucks the cane out of the crook of his elbow to utilize it while they search.

Delving deeper and deeper into more finery, it brightens the butcher’s mood tenfold – dark eyes taking in each and every option available, lingering on Flora on occasion to see just what she was more interested in. Distracted momentarily by the dark charcoal, orange, and red hues of the bolts of fabric that were crafted to match Apopo (and ironically, remind him much of the Climb).

Turning toward the shopkeep and Flora, the cane clicks against the ground as he stops to stand before the queen, his dark gaze more calculating as he hums a little soft tune as if he’s thinking. His head tilts, hand reaching out to tug one of her blonde locks down against her cheek so that he might get the full view of her and her skin tone, the gemstones that match her eyes that sit in her ears that he had given her. “Let us try something in a deep sapphire, one that glitters and one that is matte. And that one –” Looking away from Flora to gesture toward one of the bolts of fabric that has a multitude of dresses made from, a few with a particularly deep V he’s interested in. “In the teal, a deep neckline, with a belt in a scale texture.” He lifts his gaze back toward the shopkeep, flashing that too sharp smile for all of his demands, before he looks back to Flora with a wink and that same smile.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

Still idly searching, it's only the tap of the cane on the floor that has the queen glancing over her shoulder, rather surprised to find Asta's eyes so intensely focused upon her. Turning, her smile tentative before it blooms across her face, she steps toward him eagerly. Expecting perhaps his fingers to comb through her hair rather than tug, nevertheless, Flora remains utterly poised and beaming beneath the weight of his honeyed gaze. "A fine selection." The shopkeeper says approvingly, scurrying away to assemble the requested materials. "You know, I am sample size." The queen chuckles as she nears the butcher, gazing affectionately up at him. Where he might have to do all of his shopping this way, selecting fabrics and having everything tailored, Flora's regime of diet and exercise had kept her figure almost precisely that of most of the models used in this very boutique.

Or perhaps they'd have been modelled after her, regardless. Not that she was against an outfit he'd designed precisely for her.

"Want to see what I've picked out?" Flora ventures, nodding towards a plush chair obviously meant for bored husbands who were forced to endure their wives' habits. "Until he's ready with your choices, I mean."

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

The combing of his fingers through her hair will come later, he’s sure, but for now he simply peers at her with a calculating gaze – not like he had on their first date, but one that seems to try and register whether blues suited her skin better than golds, or whether oranges would blot her out or bring out the contrast of the blues of her eyes. Either way, the queen plays her part, poised and beaming and the second that the shopkeep approves and scurries away, Astaroth’s grin is a touch softer as he peers down at her. “Ah, how lucky you are, darling.” He chuckles lightly.

That also just means that the dresses already on display could be slipped into at a moments notice if she changed her mind on anything, or if he decided something else might suit her better.

As it stands, though, she has options she’s already picked out and Astaroth flashes her a bright grin as he begins to step over toward the chair – not at all a bored husband, but a man deeply invested in the fashion scene. He sits as if he does as well, posture perfect with the cane set against the arm. “I would love nothing more than that.” He answers to her, hands clasping in his lap as he waits for her to change. “Do let me know if you need any help.” His long fingers made quick work of lacing things up if need be.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

Flora

It probably doesn't need to be said, just how much effort it takes for the queen to remain sample size; not with the way Asta had already viewed her body from numerous angles by now, and the way his eyes drank her in not just as a man looks at a woman, but as a sculpture might look at a piece of marble, or an artist at his next muse. So instead Flora merely beams up at him

Oh Asta, you silly man, you know not what you say. "I will." Flora purrs, and gods but if the mere offer doesn't immediately fill her thoughts with images of the butcher on his knees, his lips between her thighs all under the pretense of helping to attach a garter or affixing some other small detail. It has the queen exhaling shakily to herself as she disappears behind the curtain.

The first outfit is just the sort of thing one might expect the queen to wear when meeting with someone like Dahlia. Moving to stand upon the circular pedestal right before Asta, the queen glances at her reflection over her shoulder in a small cove of mirrors. Covered from head to toe in a mermaid-fit gown of black silk that covered her entirely save for a necklace which plunged nearly to her belly button, the queen tugged her sleeves down before smoothing the gown around her hips. "I can barely walk." She admits with a roll of her eyes, taking an incredibly small step toward the butcher as evidence.

The gown made her ass look great, though.

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

He certainly doesn’t know the implications of what he says, nor will he realize immediately in his efforts to help and guide and offer (in his opinion) expert advice on the matter of clothing, he waits in a picture perfect vision of comfortability until Flora steps back out from behind the curtain. Gone is the white flowing dress adorned with colorful flowers. In its place, a sharp and ebony cut of a dress that clings to each and every curve Flora has to offer as she steps into the pedestal and looks to him in the mirror. He’s already moving, though, leaving the cane beside the chair as he stands.

Honey dark eyes take in the silk that’s perfectly smooth as it curves around her ass, trapping her thighs within the mermaid cut, the deep V that drops to her belly button – and having seen Flora with nothing on, he knows that there’s very little left to the imagination with how it clings and hugs to her frame. “You look so fierce, darling.” He starts to say, joining her up on the pedestal, warm hands reaching to turn her back so that she might look in the cove of mirrors again.

She’ll see him right behind her, inspecting both from where he can see and through the reflection, before he moves to stand somewhat off to the side, bending into her space enough to calculatingly move his fingertips up along her thigh before stopping at a space relatively high enough. “If you had the leg cut up to here, you would be able to walk easier. And it would still harbor enough of the form to cling to your waist and your hips.” The suggestion is easily offered, flashing her a sharp grin through the mirror. “Though you already cut quite a severe figure, my dear, I do think that you should look for something equally as stunning as it is moveable. Just in case.” A wink accompanies the suggestion, though the butcher doesn't move out of Flora's space just yet.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //