“Mm? Oh! You’re finally awake?”
Forrest wrenches their attention away from the dresser they had been staring into for the last hour. It isn’t their dresser (and by their standards, could do with a few upgrades) but lies close enough to a dormroom bed for them to close the distance to it without much effort.
They regard Rhajat’s first titillating twists — the dawn of her wakefulness — and they beam finding a place by her side. From where they sit, they can reach forward to set right a few tresses of her hair. The space had been left when Forrest vacated it to curl tight their own locks: ever the early bird. An apologetic turn of their brow acknowledges that they had left her Forrest-less as they got ready, and the hand on her head sweeps down to cup her cheek. “I take it you know what today is, so…”
Abruptly does the noble stop to rummage beneath her bed, and produce a large black gift box accented with golden silk. Its size is too large to have concealed walking in; Forrest must have had arranged for it to be delivered this morning. “Happy birthday!” they announce, placing it on her lap and delivering it with a peck to her cheek, “I know you don’t have any memory of the last outfit I made you, so I decided to take another crack at it… you know, make one you will remember for the rest of your life?”
The ensemble consists of many dark layers of fine, lacey material built for livability as much as aesthetic. The fabrics cascade the body when worn, and provide particular flare in all four of the limbs. The box is only so big to accommodate a pair of short black boots to go with it, as well as several extra chains. Space exists to attach them across the neck, on the thighs, down sleeves — even onto finger rings. Everything should fit her like a glove, being tailored to Rhajat and all.
“I promise I didn’t take any of your measurements while you were sleeping, either. I seem to have a particularly sharp recollection of them, hehe~”
The first step of every morning is the same: curling her arm or fingers or both around her Forrest, snatching them back to her side, clinging to them, preventing their escape. So when she instead curls around nothing, a cold space left behind by a warm presence, dark eyes snap open immediately, livid...worried. But, she sees her Forrest, groggy vision clamping down tightly to familiar blonde curls and a posture befitting a noble. "...What today is?" is all she can manage. Weak morning arms push herself up into a sitting position, taking the blankets around her for cover. She tucks them under her chin, wrapping her thin nightshirt in a compress that can pass for a robe. Now bundled up properly, beady eyes follow Forrest's movements.
The day is revealed to her in the form of a package, a gift, one of those things that Forrest is so fond of. It's placed beside her, and her lover finally leans in for a kiss. Automatically, she tries to turn her lips to match their own, intercepting what was once a simple peck, hungry for the warmth of their tongue. She leans into the kiss, trying to latch onto their comfort as penance for their early rise. The Nohrian manages to pull away eventually, though—due most likely to Rhajat's hands being trapped inside her blankets.
"Oh. My birthday." It's with a sour tone that she relinquishes Forrest's lips, and it's not properly ameliorated by the occasion, either. She'd never much cared for the sort of thing; after all, birthdays were something for friends and family, and Rhajat did not keep much of either. Father had appeared on some of her early birthdays, but none too recently, and the festivity of the occasion had faded as she had grown up. She's unenthusiastic for the day, yes; but for Forrest, her dark eyes do light up a little, and she wrenches her gaze away from them while she frees her hands from her blanket robes.
Knowing Forrest, it's mostly likely an outfit, tailor-made to her measurements, and thoughtful to her preferences. How Forrest manages to do things like this is a dark magic of their own, a different power she can't compete with. So it's with reverence that she unties the gold ribbons, and reveals this thin, fluid, dress...? Thing. Her eyes dart to theirs, as if to make sure this is the right box.
Without warning, she springs from her fortress, and plunges herself into her new attire. It fits over her head nicely enough—of course, perfectly snug to her body, too. But it has a nice, loose quality, like her diviner attire from back home. Her skin can breathe easily in this. The clinking of chains confuses her, though. Should jewelery really be sewn into the clothes? She supposes that Forrest would know, so she resigns her doubts to their expertise.
As she slides everything into place, adjusting coils and coils of thin fabric and chains about her, a smile begins to tug at the Hoshidan's face. She fights back, of course, and a creepy half-sneer is the result; but as she lets fall the clothes to drape properly over her, Rhajat gives into joy. The ensemble fits about her so perfectly, measuring just widely enough to allow movement but to keep her shrouded in its fabric shadows. The material is slightly transparent; but layered as it is over her body, her undergarments are impossibly obscured. She raises a hand gently, watching the liquid silk flow around her, letting the chains move from her rings to her arms. Turning to Forrest, she bites at her nails, unsure what to say yet.
Even if Forrest had taken her sizes while she was sleeping, she wouldn't have minded, either.
"You really have a knack for this thing." Her eyes finally flick up to theirs, and Rhajat crosses her arms awkwardly. "Uh...I don't celebrate my birthdays, but I'm celebrating this one. Because of you. So get excited."
She walks a step towards them, towering over their seated figure. Instead of a threat, she instead plies herself over, clambering neatly onto Forrest's lap, straddling them in her happiness. Her arms wrap around their neck automatically, and she rolls her hips, leaning in for the closest embrace she physically can. "It's perfect, but not too perfect. I guess... I know what I'm wearing today. Only..."
Then, she leans in close to the Nohrian's ear, tipping their hat askew. Her long nails scratch lovingly at the back of Forrest's neck, underneath their hair. Rhajat's warm breaths sears their skin, heavy and heavier. "I want to break it in with you first."
