Lady Satsuki

Leave me a sentence or two and I will write a drabble to fit it as I desire.

Bonus points for specifying character or emotion.

Bespoke || Closed

Of course it won’t, he replied inwardly, pinning up the front of the jacket. The muslin crumpled and bowed as he did, billowing out around her ample bosom where the darts ended. His slender fingers made short work of it without the slightest untoward graze, ever professional, ever careful not to overstep. The next part would be a bit trickier, require an even more delicate touch.

The fabric tugged flush against her breast as he pulled it to create a fresh dart at the side. It hugged the outer edge, following the curve to accentuate without exposure. He would allow her to edit it if necessary, if it felt too close. It would be a shame, though, if she did. Quite a shame to hide such a lovely woman.

It was different. Good. Better than anything else. There was a reason she preferred him, and had asserted him as her personal tailor. His hands were never rude, his fingers only touching as permitted. There was craft at work, a pleasure derived only from a job well done. It wasn't the hedonistic molestation she submitted to at all other fittings. There was nothing repulsive about being seen and dressed by him. There was no one purring poisonously in her ear. There were no Life Fibers fighting to be let in.

And so she let him work, keeping her posture perfect and her limbs out of the way. The tug of the fabric did not worry her, even as the garment grew ever tighter around her. She was not afraid to be seen and admired. Her confidence was unshakeable. He would make her proud, of that she was absolutely certain.

Bespoke || Closed

Lady Satsuki, as always, was a sight to behold. He wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet. He would remain professional, not let his eyes linger on the flawlessness of her form. He draped the muslin over one arm and extended his hand, helping her step from her halo of discarded fabric.

Once she was freed of her former, less fitting clothing, Iori lifted the muslin from the crook of his arm and slipped it onto her. He paused, leaving it to drape teasingly on her frame, already seeming quite snug a fit, even when left open. His mask was lifted and set aside, the fear of inhaling Life Fiber lint no longer relevant to his task.

"I haven’t taken your measurements in a while, so I’ve made it a bit larger where I feel you may have changed," he explained, pulling a small box of pins from his pocket. There was nothing else to explain, for now, and he slipped a dozen or so of the pins between his lips, setting to work.

Satsuki took his hand good-naturedly and allowed herself to be lead out of her clothes. There was something different about clothing with Life Fiber in it that she was happy to shed, though she remained, as of yet, in her usual undergarments. Perhaps he would be a good sport and remake them for her with left-over fabric?

She remained quiet as Iori spoke, watching the blond as he worked. He, like many others she surrounded herself with, was at his best when engrossed in his passion. She liked that about him. She liked the way her looked.

"I imagine you may find them a bit different. I trust it won't be too much of an issue," she replied, noticing the tailoring in the bust and hips. That hadn't gone unnoticed, had it? A smirk threatened, but she remained unreadable, despite her amusement.

fearcomeswithimagination-deacti

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Bespoke || Closed

"Not a single thread out of place," he confirmed, smiling when she would not. "I also brought the design I think would be most befitting."

With great care, he lifted the partial bolt, the drafted muslin resting below it. He exchanged them, holding it up for her inspection. It was a simple, sleek suit that would provide her the untouchable air she craved. Though he had always been partial of her sukeban, she had long since outgrown it.

"Would you like to try it on?"

Satsuki gave a single, fondly dismissive snort, her fingers already working the buttons of her blouse. In mere moments, the fabric fell to the floor, beginning a pile of discarded, unwanted clothing around her feet. She held no shame before him, as she should not, and would not, be self-conscious of what she was born to be. It was a sentiment she hoped she never needed to explain, and thankfully one that Shiro Iori seemed to understand without words.

Standing in only her undergarments, the girl held herself at the ready, arms slightly aside and feet at shoulder's width. She waited, expecting to be dressed by him, and looking forward to it.

Invisible Scars [closed with totally-ryuko]

totally-ryuko

"I just wanted to see how you were doin’ is all. Maybe catch up on a few things, you just seemed off." Her demeanor shifted to that of a more casual one, her arms folding one atop the other across her chest.

"That is if you don’t really want to talk. I bet you have other things goin’ on." She could feel some sort of tension in the air, and wasn’t fond of it. If she was to speak with Satsuki she certainly was more inclined to do so when she felt more willing to talk.

#totallyryuko #rp: invisible scars

Could she?

The very notion of sharing her fears, insecurities and upset with another human being was something that she could scarcely imagine. She'd always been alone, and had assumed she would continue to be. Even in her closest circle, they had never been prone to discussing anything that may be perceived as a weakness.

"It doesn't bother you, does it..." Satsuki stated aloud, less a question and more an observation. It would have to be done carefully, this conversation. She needed to choose her words, and how she said them, with precision.

Bespoke || Closed

Whether or not he meant something special to her was up for debate. It hardly mattered. It was his passion that pushed him and allowed him to be what she needed. He had to keep himself in check, balancing what he knew was right with what felt too good to be wrong. He knew the dangers. He walked the fine line. Lady Satsuki’s favour was his reward.

He moved past her to the desk and laid the parcel upon it, gingerly plucking the string open. There lay several yards, carefully and meticulously folded, of white fabric. It was an expert weave, but fairly unremarkable beyond that. A twill, nothing more; as she had requested.

Was this...?

It had to be. There was no mistaking it. No mistaking why he was here now.

This was virgin cloth. There were no Life Fibers in it.

She suppressed a smile, her eyes moving toward the tailor, hoping to catch his gaze for a silent thank-you. Something easy to miss and hard to read. She wouldn't linger, wouldn't give anything notice.

"Lovely fabric, Shiro. Befitting the President of Honnouji Academy."

Invisible Scars [closed with totally-ryuko]

totally-ryuko

Bothered her? No, it had never quite bothered her. It just seemed odd, odd in that someone who was so prevalent in the area had hardly shown her face at all for the past few days. She didn’t mind hanging out with Mako or occasionally one of the “elite four” but she now had a sister, actual family that she could get close to and hadn’t yet. Or at least hadn’t caught up on much with.

She simply looks up, a bit of sadness laced within her voice. “Well sorta, I mean looking for you at least. We hadn’t really spoken since the day Mako and I happened to come across you. I just wanted to spend some time, maybe talk about things. Sister stuff you know? I mean I think that’s sister stuff, wouldn’t really know.” A weak smile finishes the sentence.

#rp: invisible scars #totallyryuko

That much was true. She hadn't been seen by many outside her close circle since the first day out. In truth, she'd almost been overwhelmed by the whole adventure on the heels of their battle. Ryuko and Mako were much more energetic than she was used to, and being out with them, and then joined eventually by the others, had been exhausting.

Returning home was the worst part.

Calling this place home was the worst part.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked, unsure where Ryuko wanted to lead this conversation. Hopefully she wouldn't pry. Hopefully this interaction would be blessedly short. Hopefully she wouldn't think she was a terrible older sister.

Hopefully.

techmosamson

"Is it true that..." Finish it in my ask box!

Bespoke || Closed

The door clicked shut behind him as he rose, his parcel produced as he approached his mistress.

"It took some effort, but I’ve brought what we discussed," he began, resisting the urge to rake his eyes along her form. There was plenty of time for that soon enough. He paused, then continued, "…I’m here for your fitting."

"Of course."

Satsuki allowed her cup to clink softly on the saucer, setting both aside on her desk. She had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. This was where the tides would begin to change. What he had in his hand was the key to it. Her first act of rebellion.

Standing, the girl was a bit taller than her companion, but she would never look down on him. He was the single most important tool she had. The rest would fall in line with time, but this small, talented boy would be the key to it all.

Hopefully he knew how much he meant to her.

Invisible Scars [closed with totally-ryuko]

totally-ryuko

The reaction Satsuki had given was enough to know that Ryuko had struck a nerve. Perhaps struck it a bit too well. It seemed as though an aura of defensiveness had always come to rise when the very idea of their mother was brought up.

While that would be a good starting point in conversation she was going to have to cast it aside. It perhaps was still too sensitive to discuss. Her eyes drifted around the room, everything was neat and orderly as was expected. “Right… Well, I guess that explains why hardly anybody has seen you around. Must be a lot of junk to sort through.”

#totallyryuko #rp: invisible scars

"That is an understatement," Satsuki replied, still somewhat lost in her mental catalogue. It all had to go, truthfully. She couldn't and wouldn't permit any of it to stay. There was nothing here that didn't pull her back, that didn't keep her imprisoned in painful memory and kept her firmly rooted in that which couldn't be changed.

And yet... it had all changed. It was the problem and the solution all at once. Something she couldn't yet verbalize but that still caused the bile to rise in her throat.

She broke the fixation, ended the spiralling thoughts there as her cold grey eyes came to rest upon Ryuko once again. The thoughts were dismissed, her ambivalence, for now, tucked away.

"Has it bothered you?" she asked, a note of genuine concern on her breath. It was easier to focus outside the self. "Were you looking for me?"

Bespoke || Closed

His knock was only a formality, the announcement of his arrival only to keep up appearances. She was expecting him, and so he had come to her. He needed no further permission.

He bowed all the same, ever mindful of how she feared the very walls themselves. He would not put her at risk. Never.

His voice was low and sharp, only slightly altered by his orange mask.

"Lady Satsuki."

"Shiro."

There was no sense in such formality, even if the walls were watching them. This was a familiar meeting, and would only get increasingly more familiar as it continued. She would be familiar from the outset and hope that he followed suit. She needed the camaraderie, even if it was only in brief glimpses.

She watched him, cold grey eyes combing over his figure as he bowed low, pale blond hair spilling over his shoulder.

Her mother loved that about him too.

Bespoke || Closed

It was familiar. A place he knew. A place he seemed to have always known. It was hard to imagine a time before they were in his life. Before he found his family so entwined with this one.

The grounds of the Kiryuin manor were, as always, stunning.

The tiny tailor made his way across them with purposeful stride, a confident stomp worthy of runways were only he of the disposition and height. Instead, it parted crowds and demanded respect, his sharp, golden eyes cutting through those who remained in his way. It was one of the things Lady Ragyo found so endearing about him, and something that allowed him audience at any time with her daughter.

He came now with a parcel under his hand, carefully wrapped in paper and string. He wouldn’t let something so important out of his hands, much less his sight, and he wouldn’t be bothered as he delivered it to its owner.

The doors opened and he was admitted without fuss, his presence accepted and expected at this point. He knew where his destination was, barely glancing away from his set path as he moved.

She would be expecting him