phoenixstrut | [AU] For the Greater Good

A chill runs down her spine, right as heat surges to her face. Her eyes soften as he draws closer, the feeling of his power filling the room heady and far too impressive... For a moment, she considers it. Really, really considers giving in, shutting down that small part of her with any shame or hesitation and just-

And then there's light again, and she blinks at him, almost jumping at the shifting of the pizza box between them as if she had forgotten it was there. For a moment, she's too confused to latch onto that old odd feeling, but she frowns, embarrassed as hell, defensive, and oh so confused.

"What was that?!" she nearly demands, shaking her head.

She's not quite sure if she's more frustrated that she's confused or that he led her on or what.

"What was what?" There's a lot of things she could be demanding an explanation to that he just did. He leaves the bed, stepping over to a dresser along a wall and starts taking jewelry off his horns with the help of a mirror.

"You are here for your people, the end of this war, not for me." He glances back at 'me', a pointed look at the bed as well.

"Tradition be damned, don't pretend otherwise."

Her body slowly relaxes, tense muscles turning to near jelly at the relief... only to mildly tense up again. She watches him remove the jewelry, trying to wrap her mind around it, then shakes her head, rising to her own feet.

"That's not.... They're our people now," she manages to correct him, still keeping a careful distance, but stepping closer all the same. "A-And I am here for you."

That much, surprising or no, rings true, even if she's obviously nervous saying it. Not that she isn't relieved he's okay taking it slow, but... "As of a few hours ago, you're now quite literally the only family I have."

Are her hands shaking? ....is the rest of her probably shaking? Where's all that confidence from before? Is this... real confidence?

He gives a little head shake like 'okay, fair, you have a point' - our people.

He really doesn't know how to take that 'here for him'. She mentions family after, so maybe he could take it as she's not quite here to be his wife yet.

"As nice as the offer is, anxiety and fear and false confidence don't leave a good aftertaste." Or he can be an ass. That works too.

"Aftertaste?"

She frowns. As far as she knows, he's not an empath, and emotions have very little to do with ...eating... in this situation.

And even still. "You... do know I'm not a virgin, right?"

More feigned confidence, but she's trying to at least hold her own, given what she thinks she knows about him.

This is the blank look of 'what the fuck did they even tell you. was it nothing? it seems like nothing.'

"No, but thanks for the information."

This is the blank look of 'what the fuck did they even tell you. was it nothing? it seems like nothing.'

"No, but that... isn't what I'm talking about." He's almost done disentangling his horns from sparklies.

"They really just threw you into this without teaching you anything. Or does the High just not care, we're demons..."

She bristles, and she's flustered enough and tired enough from the extremely long day that she just... turns away, heading up to the head of the bed. "We don't all think like that," she almost snaps. Hasn't she proven that yet, even just in the brief few times they've spent more than an hour in the same room? Married or no, he's still generalizing her people, and it's a trait she's fought so hard against for so long-

He pops into her mind, and she shakes her head as if to clear it. Now isnt the time for proving her point. No need to give the King those memories as cheap receipts.

"Unfortunately," she sighs, frustrated, "I wasn't really given the grace of having anyone left to teach me much, especially about the ancients."

...she almost regrets it, now that the words are out. It's not fair to throw that at him, she knows, but it's not altogether untrue. Demons had slaughtered her family...

"Funny how we can spend the time to learn about the lot up on High." Zaveid mutters. "But the High doesn't bother looking this low." So maybe there's a little more force than necessary in shutting his jewelry up.

"Then again, it is a one way street. We get those not good enough to stay up, but no demon is ever 'good' enough to end up in the High."

And he drops himself in the armchair, irritably undoing any braids left.

Yep, he's sleeping here.

"You think that's my fault?" she bites, flinching at the sharp snap of the jewelry box lid. It's more defense than anything, natural, instinctive. She's young, never trained, not at all prepared to have taken up the crown she now wears.

....Excuses, really, but she feels justified enough in them, even with the guilt crushing her for it. He has a point, but...

"At least I'm trying." For all she knew, he had avoided all of it for ages.

She turns her face away, flushed and irritated and furious and heartbroken with the overall situation and sits on the edge of the bed- their bed, regardless of wherever he decides to sleep.

Yeah, no, he's not even going to give her a response to that. There's just an eyebrow up - he's definitely judging something about this situation - and he settles into the chair, horns fading with another pass of his hands to mostly untangle his hair.

And he absolutely is going to sleep here.

Zaveid quietly goes to the shower come dawn, another door off the room sharing the sounds of running water.

She waits for him, waits for him to change his mind, or at least for the rustling of sheets when he settles in on the opposite side, but... there's nothing.

She keeps her back to him, mind aimlessly stirring in exhaustion, unable to piece together a coherent thought for her. The theme is all the same, though; her new reality, miserable as it now seems, is going to take some getting used to.

Throughout the night, she stays curled against the edge of the bed in a tight ball, tears streaming (almost) silently into the pillow in a pitiful lament. Wedding night indeed.

When she wakes the next morning, only to find him still not in bed and the shower running in the next room, she stays as she is, debating if getting up is really worth it. They aren't expected anywhere immediately.... not for the next few days. Surely no one would bat an eye if she stayed in bed in a bundle of empty, sad emotion and didn't make an appearance for at least that long.

She really, truly considers it, before she notices the tissues on her bedside table. Those.... hasn't been there before, had they?

Her eyes flick again to the bathroom door, and she sighs, running a hand down her face. An early riser... noted. Would he still feel as burnt as she did from their exchange the night before?

No, they had not. Maybe he got as much sleep as she did.

Either way, all the vague sense of the demon king a door over is the pleasant nice hot shower melty feel.

.... So completely unburnt by last night that he might have forgotten that there's someone in the bed. The door opens, there's a cloud of steam, and... There's clearly some sort of demon magic keeping that towel up, right? Either way, Dove, here's your husband, mostly toweled down from a shower and only in a towel.

He's on his way to a dresser, not a glance at the bed. Maybe he's not quite an early riser...

It takes her a second... really takes her a second to realize that she's staring and that even from her place curled up in bed, she's gaping at him.

Oh Hell.... she isn't sure if she should be terrified or want him or...

There are a few more heartbeats before she comes to her senses and snaps the sheets up over her head, hoping to hide her now burning face. A few shuffling sounds of the comforter being pressed to her face later and the realization slams into her: even with the muscles of his back ~~and backside~~ distracting her, there's no mistaking the scars running the length of his back.

...She peeks again, just to be sure, heart sinking slowly...

Edited 2019-04-13 05:17 (UTC)

She shifts to hide, and he remembers that he's not exactly a single King anymore. Despite what all she sees now, and any rumors to the contrary, people don't usually end up in his bed.

He'll get to the pants stage of getting dressed before commenting, although the thread of amusement is there before. "What? Making sure I'm real?"

She doesn't think she's going to say anything to him, but it doesn't feel too dangerous... and he had caught her staring. Slowly, she pushes herself up, pulling the covers up over her chest despite the fact she had curled into that sad sleepy ball still fully dressed in her robe and 'nightgown' below.

"Sorry..."

Those scars. She's not sure if she should bring them up, or play it off, or what. Maybe he truly is just that vicious, and they're just proof of it.

"It's... early?" She turns to blink at the partially drawn curtain cutting them off from his balcony. ....Really early.

Don't pay attention to his back when he shrugs, then, Dove. It's dangerous-

"Couldn't sleep any longer." Maybe if he'd actually taken the bed, he might have slept more, but no. Arm chairs aren't that great, apparently.

There's a faint shift in how all those scars look, once he pulls another of those loose thin tank tops on. Sort of smoothing out, or blending them with the rest of his skin. Now that she's seen them she probably could pick them out, but someone else?

".... Did they send any clothes with you?" Zaveid stares at his own wardrobe like, wait, I forgot something.

There's a pang if guilt at that, but she reminds herself that he had chosen that himself. Even still, "it's your bed... you could have slept in it."

At least a little sleep has completely dimmed that snap in her voice. That and the sight of those scars...

She looks back at him, still sure of what she saw, even though now his skin looks... smoother? How...

"Um...." She blinks, glancing down at herself. "I think a few trunks were supposed to be brought today..." Lest she fall victim to the demon seamstress again.

Zaveid just kinda 'huh's at that.

"Dunno if you wanna, but you can borrow something if you want to look about before your stuff gets here." He rolls up the towel, tossing it into a laundry hamper.

"I'm going to the kitchen. You can either come along or get something sent." Aaaand he's wandering off like that.

Sure isn't awkward at all.

... There's a phone on the bedside table. It has a few named buttons instead of numbers, though... Staff and Kitchen being two.

She's. It entirely sure what to make of it, but she is about to thank him when he just... drifts away.

....well, then...

For a few minutes, she just sits, running her hands over her face where she sits perched on the edge of the massive bed. So much for keeping up a 'honeymoon' appearance...

She decides, eventually, on calling down to have breakfast brought up, pushing aside the blankets and heading toward the bathroom to wash up the second the phone clicks off. Maybe they'll bring it up while she's bathing...

Before disappearing into the bathroom, however, she does sift through the offered wardrobe, eventually selecting a longer looking tunic- much bigger than her, but easily belted and long enough for her to stay decent, at least, if she decides to wander. It's laid across the bed as she showers, hoping it won't seem too odd for her to go traipsing about in his clothing.

Not that he seems to wear it too often anyway.

Unfortunately for Dove, it seems like his staff is curious. Somehow, she's back out of the bathroom before there's any knocking and a cheerful (?) woman's voice announcing food is here.

Shoot.

She dresses quickly, then calls for whoever it is to come in, releasing her hair from it's safe, dry knot atop her head.

It's.... odd. The woman sounded cheerful, but that... void...

It's not any better when the woman actually enters. The pale blond woman is fond of pink and purple, by her asymmetrical clothes, and absolutely looks cheerful and maybe a bit mischievous.

But feels maybe a tiny fraction of that.

She gleefully wheels the cart in, glancing about the room, then pouts childishly at a lack of Zaveid. Who knows why.

Either way, she'll present breakfast with an over the top, hollow, flourish, then ask if the lady needs anything else-

She just stares at her, just confused enough to forget her manners for a minute. how is she so empty? Or is it just utter control over herself?

Either way, Dove is suddenly wondering if she should be on her guard against this woman in some way or another, even if she's technically in her own 'home'.

For now, she just thanks her, noting her pout and watching her bow. "Ah... no, thank you... Did the Kin- ... Zaveid not come downstairs...?"

It doesn't take long for her to look like pieces clicked together. And it doesn't help Dove figure out what's up with this lady.

"I must have just missed him!"

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I HAVVE TO LEAVE IT AT THIS AT LEAST ONCE

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