#rethea emberfall

[rethea-emberfall]

Hellcaller sure is doing some things to Rethea. (I'm sure she's fine.)

Someone please take the Narcissus addon away from me. I need to sleep.

[indy-et-al]

Day 3: Romance (Rethea)

(Find information on the Daily Writing Challenge here)  @daily-writing-challenge​

Warnings: None

Summary: Reth hands her heart over because of some glow bugs.

-----

The cave had more of an effect on Rethea than she’d been prepared for. Here Andennaris was, leading her off into the wilderness, and she had come along because she trusted him. After all the situations they had been in, and all the contracts they had completed together, she knew that she was safer with him than she was most anywhere else.

But when she’d looked up at the roof of the cavern, and seen the glow of countless little lives brightening up the pitch black around them… No. There were no words. He had seen this, and thought of her. And then he had brought her to experience it for herself. 

Before their trip to the cave, she had trusted Andennaris to keep her whole and healthy. She wore cloth into battle, after all, and was no good if she couldn’t concentrate on her spells, and he had seemed to know that instinctively and protected her from the moment he joined up with the group she was leading. Almost immediately, she had felt a kinship, more from the way he moved in public than in the small talk they exchanged on trips. They’d gotten close, thank the Light, in the intervening months, and knowing him had made everything else in her life just a bit easier.

She had wanted, very badly, to trust him with her heart, and their trip to the cave had convinced her that she’d made the right choice. 

Anyone who sees beauty in this is worth knowing. Anyone who sees beauty in this and then thinks of me is worth keeping close.

His hugs made her feel better than she had since before the Void. Sleeping next to him, with his nightmares or no, made her feel utterly content. And sharing the things that they each found joy in with one another? That was absolutely indescribable. He was the only person she didn’t feel ashamed of her hair around, as disobedient and mischievous as it was. He was the only person whom she knew would understand what the Void had done to her, and how it felt to try to live on afterward.

They were both cold to the touch, at times. They were both held a bit aside by the average person. But none of that mattered when he held her. How wonderful was it to meet someone who made sense of her, and whom she could understand in turn? 

The cave, with its roof of glowing little lives, had made her admit to herself that he was important. Now, all she had to do was show him just what that meant.  

[rethea-emberfall]

Reth's Dalaran Penthouse

During the timeskip, Reth decided to move out of Boralus and into an apartment in Dalaran. She doesn't have to hide from her family anymore, so she wanted to shift the Last Cent Calvary's base of operations to a neutral area in order to expand the work available to her and her ever-expanding crew. And, well, she's loaded again, and she's sick of inn food. So now, a tour!

Top-down map. You enter either in the little foyer in the middle (just above the bathroom), or from the teleportation circle on the left deck. Depends on who you are. If from the foyer, there's space to put your shoes and cloaks, coats, hats, etc.

If you come in from the foyer, you immediately run into Reth's workroom. Through the doors is the greenhouse where she grows most of her materials for herbalism. Assume that everything here smells like flowers.

The greenhouse. She keeps it locked because some of the plants are incredibly toxic, so most people aren't going to ever see this. It also smells like flowers, shockingly.

The private back deck past the greenhouse where she goes to lounge with some roof trees, because why not.

Back inside, through her workroom and into the kitchen/dining area. (Don't look too closely at the cabinets, I had to break the game to get the sink centered under the window.) Also her piano, and a fully-stocked bar.

Through the kitchen, into the bathroom, which is mostly mirrors. So many mirrors, floor to ceiling. The shower is mostly for other people, bath is for her.

Back out into the main room, we get the living space on the other side of the piano. This is where her inner Sin'dorei went nuts; COLORS. CUSHIONS.

Her bed takes up most of the nook behind the living space.

The other deck, off the living room. Lounge chairs for her to work on that tan she's never going to be able to get, outdoor table for nice days, and the teleportation circle.

[rethea-emberfall]

DWC Day 2: Orbit (Syya)

Word Count: 1100 Summary: Syya just wants to look out for the bosslady. (It’s not that she’s jealous.) Warnings: stalking

@daily-writing-challenge

Syya watched from the window of her room in the inn the Last Cent Cavalry had been operating out of since bosslady had relocated them all to Dalaran. Everyone had been surprised by the decision, but when Rethea had stated simply that access to more factions outside of Kul Tiras meant more money, every last one of them had followed her. They’d been here a week, and business had yet to pick up, but Rethea had been leaving consistently every day, having meeting after meeting.

Her social calls left a bad taste in Syya’s mouth, but she had to admit that Rethreth was working hard to come through for everyone in her employ. For every day she spent drinking and fucking around, she spent three establishing new contacts. And in the gaps of time between those two things, she kept speaking to property owners.

Why? Was she looking for a physical headquarters for their group?

Rethea fell out of sight from Syya’s window, so she just opened it and vaulted out, letting her wings stretch just enough to coast her down to the street. A brief moment of staring through the walls showed her exactly where to go, because Reth had that accursed voidwalker with her, as usual. Tangnuz had realized long ago that she was following his mistress, and had been a tattletale thorn in Syya’s side ever since.

She’d learned from experience, however, that the two of them only focused on what was close around them. Sure, Rethea had the occasional tendency to look off into space and then turn and stare directly at her sometimes, but it’s not like Syya was a rogue. Illidari stood out in crowds, more often than not.

Syya followed Rethea into the nice part of the city, full of the tall buildings that more often than not housed mages with more money than sense. Her boss looked at a slip of paper in her gloved hand, verified an address, and then slipped through a nearby door.

Syya was just about to do her staring through walls trick again when a heavy hand settled on her shoulder. She spun around immediately, and came face-to-face with leather-clad, lavender-skinned tits. Syya would know that rack anywhere: it spent a lot of time crammed in her face when she needed healing after a contract job. Her neck craned, and she looked up into narrowed golden eyes instead.

“Warn a girl, Indraste.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Syya.” The smile the company’s healer gave her was unpleasant enough to match her own. “Rethea says you’ve been following her.”

Syya took a step back. “Just looking out for the bosslady.”

“She can look out for herself.” The druid’s voice was firm, and that unpleasant smile had settled into a deep, full-lipped frown that was one flash of teeth away from being a snarl.

“Can she? She got kidnapped at the Faire, of all places.”

Indraste crossed her arms. “And you’re looking more and more like the next person who’s going to try.”

“Are you kidding? You should see the people she’s been–”

The druid hissed, teeth baring, and Syya shut up. Indraste’s voice was cold when she replied, “Syya. When she went missing, we had to wash all of her clothes, because they had your stink all over them. You broke into her room. You used her things. And now, you’re following her, telling me the people she’s around are creepy? Look in a mirror.”

“…I just want what’s best for her.”

“No. You just want her.”

Syya’s eyes went wide, and she stared up at Indraste, fists clenching. “…What?”

“Everyone you work with knows. She knows. Even I know, and I’m barely ever here. I can smell it on you when you’re around her.”

That made Syya incredibly uncomfortable to hear. Druids and their fucking noses. She shifted from foot to foot, wings flexing, jaw clenching behind her mask. As genuine anger rather than annoyance began to course through her veins, she felt herself begin to salivate, wanting to give into the demon within, rip her mask off, and bite.

Syya was willing to bet Indraste would have a difficult time healing the wound if she gave in. But she couldn’t do that to a healer who worked for free, not if she wanted to keep her job.

(Was it so bad to be interested, even if she were willing to admit that she was? Syya knew Rethea had issues with impulse control, and she could understand that better than most people. She and Andennaris had bonded together over feeling like monsters and being afraid of losing control, and if it had worked for them why couldn’t Syya try–)

Her voice went sharp. “Why do you care? She’s just your brother’s–”

“She’s a friend.” The druid punctuated each word like a blow, staring down at her impassively.

Syya tried to process this for a moment. The fact that Indraste might like Rethea as herself rather than as her brother’s romantic interest had never crossed her mind.

“…She’s stupid. She puts herself at risk.”

“Everyone puts themselves at risk. It’s what people do. And do you really think she’d want you to swoop in and save her, if something did go wrong?”

Syya looked toward the building Rethea had disappeared into. “…No,” she admitted, both to the healer and to herself, voice going dull.

Indraste grabbed her by the jaw and tilted her head up to face her. Syya hissed, and the instinct to bite returned, so she clamped her teeth shut. She made eye contact with the other woman, eyes squinted and sullen.

“Stop this,” Indraste said, “She’s not interested.”

“Neither am I!”

Syya struck out at the druid, fist aimed for her bare stomach. The other woman took it in stride, grunting lightly before releasing her face. Once free, Syya took a few steps back. She was usually itching for a fight, but starting one with a druid over a foot taller than her with magically reinforced gloves? No thanks.

She felt herself wilt, and hated the feeling. “What, are you going to kick my ass now?”

“If you hit me again?” Indy nodded once, seriously, fists clenching at her sides. Syya did some brief math, and then decided to cut her losses.

“Fine.” Syya turned her back in Indraste, headed towards the inn, before adding, “But if you’d seen who she’s been spending time with, you’d be worried, too. I’d hate to have you as a friend if this is how you care.”

“I can worry about her and still not follow her,” was the cool reply. “If you want to help her, do your job.”

"Good talk." Syya snorted, and started walking.

[rethea-emberfall]

❝You weren’t taking control. You were losing it.❞ Came the whisper from the shadows before Legana stepped into view, eye narrowed as the two visible tentacles in her hair wiggled.

Rethea looked up from the contract she was inspecting, frowning lightly. This was what she deserved for trying to work in the main room of her inn. "I'm afraid I'll need a bit more context than that," she said in Thalassian-accented Common. "That could describe several recent events in my life, in all honesty."

She leaned back in her chair and studied this stranger, trying to decide if she understood the source of her hostility. Was she a stranger at all, or one of her former students? She ran into the ones that had survived the Void occasionally.

@asharinhun

[rethea-emberfall]

Day 5: Nostalgic/Starve (Rethea)

Warnings: nudity

Summary: Rethea makes a few interesting life decisions that will definitely not have consequences.

@daily-writing-challenge @themagictrick because the date came up!

—--

“Boss?”

Set the desk on fire.

Why are you still bothering to breathe? You know you’ll die alone.

Worthless. WORTHLESS.

The desk– fire, fire to the desk–

“Hey. Boss.” A large, green-tattooed hand slammed down onto Rethea’s desk, and she jolted out of her reverie, looking up at the Illidari with wide eyes. When had she come in?

“Yes, Syya. My apologies.” Rethea pushed a tentacle back over her shoulder and gave the woman a small smile. “Welcome back. I trust the job went well?”

The Illidari’s gravel-gargling voice grated on Rethea’s ears as she laughed and slumped into the chair on the other side of the desk. “Yeah, it went great. I wanted to talk to you about that, though.”

“Oh?” Rethea set a letter aside and gave Syya her full attention.

“I was thinking… That Sin’dorei you had me steal from looks a lot like you. I was wondering if she’d be grateful to know just who’d done it.”

Rethea squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as the voices went loud and rabid. It had not been a good day, not with them. It took a moment, but she was able to breathe deeply and give Syya a thin smile. “We agreed on ten percent, Syya. I should make it less because you just threatened me, but I won’t. You’ll get the cut you gave your word was enough to guarantee your silence.”

“And if I talk?” She draped her legs over one of the arms of the chair and gave Rethea a bright smile.

“...You don’t want to do that. I take protecting myself very seriously.” Rethea’s hands white-knuckled against the edge of the desk, but she kept on calmly. “And there’s always your reputation to consider here, as well, in addition to our mutual safeties. You were portrayed as quite the bully before I hired you on, to the point that people were beginning to pass you over for work. I’d hate to have to use word of mouth to undo all that character building you’ve been focusing on recently. You’re only just now getting used to having a roof over your head again, yes?”

Syya’s searing eyes narrowed into slits, and she rasped, “Fine,” before rising and stalking for the door. “I’ll bring it in.”

Rethea closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, head swimming as the voices whispered again, calling for Syya’s blood. But she was an employee, for Light’s sake. She had promised to protect them all.

Breathe. Breathe. Don’t set fire to the desk.

She was nearly herself again by the time Syya returned, strong-muscled arms bulging as she carried a chest into the room. It slammed onto the desk between them, and she flipped it open. Rethea carefully ignored the crest on the lid and focused instead on the sheer quantity of coins inside.

She counted out Syya’s cut into a large pouch and offered it up, keeping her face carefully neutral. “Close the door on your way out, please. And don’t put either of us through this again.”

Syya closed the door without a word, and Rethea let some of the tension ease out of her back. Her twin sister was going to know exactly who had done this the second she noticed the money was missing, so there really wasn’t much damage the Illidari could do if she spoke after all.

Rethea ran her fingers through the coins in the chest, smiling thinly as metal clicked against metal. This was certainly one way to get her inheritance. She likely shouldn’t have done it at all, but it was so satisfying to take what should have been freely given by her family. Of course, they wanted nothing to do with her since the Void. And now that this was done, ideally she would no longer have anything to do with them, either.

Rethea picked up a flyer that had been stashed atop a small pile of notes at the edge of her desk and looked down at it, making a thoughtful noise. The burlesque troop that she’d seen a show from several months ago was hosting a silent auction, offering up dates in return for money. She only recognized one name on the list of options. At least she thought she did. Hadn’t Ryland been the one who gave her a cupcake when they’d both been sitting and enjoying food at the market? He’d been easy enough to chat with for the few minutes they’d spoken. And good conversation was one of the main points of a date.

Hmm. She could rarely attend the troupe’s events, but the show she’d seen had been lovely, and she wanted to be able to show her support somehow. Rethea pulled a piece of parchment close, picked up her pen, and began writing down her information, as well as her bid. It was time to make a statement with her money that her family would absolutely despise.

“This is for you, dear sister,” Rethea murmured as she sealed the letter and rose to post it. “May you choke on your embarrassment when you hear.”

****

Rethea won her chosen auction, which honestly made her feel a bit uncomfortable. The poor man was obligated to spend time with her, now. When Ryland suggested meeting in Booty Bay for drinks, cliff diving, and swimming, she agreed even still. She decided that if it seemed like they weren’t having fun, she’d cry work and free him from the obligation. Her main point had been to help them fundraise, after all.

Still, it would be nice to be social with someone who wasn’t a coworker. So she decided to give it a try. At least if drinks were involved, the voices would be more muted than usual. She'd be able to keep herself together. (She would.)

She dressed for being outdoors, putting on far more casual clothes than she normally wore. As always, her scars were covered. She didn’t wear her fanciest bathing suit, or put on much in the way of makeup. She did, however, stare at herself in the mirror before leaving, face set in a frown.

“Be good,” she murmured, talking openly to her hair. It was a habit she’d fallen into recently, and was trying to break, but this was important. The last thing she needed to do was freak out some poor guy because her–

One of her tentacles slithered along the back of her neck, petting delicately. Rethea sighed and pulled her attention away from the mirror. How she could tell when her hair was mocking her, she’d never know. But, it was time to go meet Ryland. Just a few drinks and a nice chat. Easy enough, right?

****

Rethea woke face-down on a strange bed, vaguely aware of two things: the sun was too high in the sky for it to be morning; also, she was not alone. Her hair rustled along the pillow as she turned her head to find Ryland, passed out cold next to her. One of her tentacles was stretched out and resting against his shoulder.

Blink. Blink.

She stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and rolling onto her back, being careful not to wake him. Memories from the night before surfaced from her sleepy haze, and she took a moment to consider just how she’d ended up in bed with a near-stranger.

The conversation had been great, as had the drinks and the diving. He’d been flirty, but not overly so. He’d been polite, too. All of that she had expected going into it, and none of it would have led to her falling into bed with him.

But, then, after she'd answered all his questions about her hair ("Can you feel with it?") he’d told her how he too used to hide behind illusions in order to be accepted, which had felt like a punch to the gut. And then there was the fascination with her hair. Those two things combined in a critical way, and for once she was left not feeling like the absolute monster she was.

Rethea was very used to keeping the company of other people who felt the same way about themselves as she did. Worgen, other Ren’dorei, Death Knights. She couldn’t hide her tentacles or her scars, and yet Ryland had made it feel like the most natural thing in the world instead of some sort of flaw. Having a few hours where being in this strange, changed body of hers wasn’t a waking nightmare had been something she’d badly needed.

And Ryland had seemed like a safe person to relax around. She needed company, not attachment. Not after the last time.

…And her hair had liked him, which was a miracle. She certainly took advantage of its good mood as much as possible over the course of the night. After the swimming, during helping him cheat at cards over drinks, he’d risked a kiss. When her hair petted him, easing along his neck and shoulders as she leaned in and returned it, he’d actually seemed pleased. Light. Touching someone had felt so good. Since the Void, she’d been starved for it, even though she usually actively avoided physical contact. Which was pathetic, but… it hadn’t been enough to keep her from throwing herself into the night and having some fun for once. Blessedly, her hair didn’t try to ruin things. In fact, it had seemed to enjoy his skin almost as much as she had.

At this thought, she reached out and ran a hand lightly along his bare arm, letting her nails trace his skin. He stirred with a deep, sleepy breath. When his eyes opened, she smirked at him, and he gave her that gorgeous smile in return. “Morning. Ah, afternoon, actually. Want lunch? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

[rethea-emberfall]

TMIT: What is the most bizarre thing her tentacles have ever done?

((Pause for me thinking for a week because congrats, @turning-through-the-never this is the hardest question I've ever gotten for her! Let's proceed.))

"Ah." Her lips press into a thin line at the question. "This is..." She settles back in her chair and pushes a tentacle back over her shoulder where it belongs. "Bizarre is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. I think most people would find my tentacles bizarre on principle, especially because typically, my hair is violent. It refuses to be brushed, hates having clothing pulled over it, and the like. I can't tie it back or cover it. It has thrown rocks at seagulls. And if it gets wet, it tries to escape it-- like a cat might. It also once tried to strangle me in the bathtub. I'm actually increasingly convinced it has a mind of its own, at least for one of them." She points at the second tentacle on the right. It immediately curls around her finger, and she scoffs.

The fingers of her free hand rap on the table, nails clicking lightly. "So with that context, imagine my surprise at this scenario: I'm waking up next to someone I cared about very much, and I can feel my tentacles moving. He and I both had long hair, and while we were sleeping, they had braided our hair together."

"He thought it was funny, at least, instead of creepy." Reth snorts. "But my hair predicted that one wrong, if the braiding was supposed to have higher meaning. I haven't seen him in months. So now I don't listen to anything it sa-- well. 'Says' isn't the right word, but it gets the point across."

[rethea-emberfall]

Laundry

Warnings: nudity

thanks to @themagictrick for the scene idea and for loaning out Ryland!

Rethea slipped off the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the wooden floor of her room. The contrast between the planks and the warmth she’d just left made her shiver as she reflexively made sure that her bracers were still in place over her scars. Yes. Good. Her hair did one brief, dissatisfied creep across the back of her shoulders before settling down and behaving. The voices were nicely muted due to alcohol, and as far as she could tell? Her hair had been enjoying itself tonight.

Light, I have some notes to make later, she thought to herself. And no, that is not encouragement to act up now, she thought at her hair, just in case. She padded over to her Laundry Chair and started rummaging through its contents.

“...Are you getting dressed?” asked an amused voice from behind her.

Reth glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Ryland, who still looked content where he was naked and sprawled across the bed. “No,” she said, musingly tossing aside a set of panties and digging deeper into the pile. “Not quite. I just like to feel nice. Comfortable pillows, good food, pretty underthings. I recently bought a new set of lingerie and–ah, there it is!–it’s my opinion this sort of thing is better enjoyed in appreciative company.”

He shifted, rising up enough to rest his back on the headboard, and reached for one of the tankards on the end table. “I’ve liked all your underwear so far.”

“Thank you.” She nodded and turned around fully, holding a strapless fuchsia bustier up against her front. “I’ll have to dig for the bottoms still, but this is the new cut. Not a new color, I’m afraid, as it’s my favorite. It matches nicely when I’m the way I look now, and it contrasts well when the illusions drop.”

“I can see that looking great on you when you’re not illusioned.” Ryland grinned, and Reth felt a faint flush creep across her cheeks. Light, she used to be so much better at taking compliments.

“Thank you,” she said again. She undid the hooks on the back of the bustier and wrapped it around her, pausing with a soft, “Move, please,” to her tentacles. Blessedly, they shifted over her left shoulder, leaving her back free. She exhaled, and then began rehooking the back, moving from the bottom to the top with nimble fingers. “What’s your favorite color, if I might ask?”

The answer was immediate. “Blue. Any blue, really. And silver, too.”

She stifled a smile. That was a good answer from someone who liked the sea. Reth studied him for a moment, eyes cutting from his hair to his eyes to his skin. She nodded as she did the last few hooks and inhaled to settle everything nicely into place. “Excellent choices, both. I’m hard-pressed to think of any blue you wouldn’t look good in. You have good taste.” She winked and then turned around, resuming rummaging for the matching bottoms. The fact that it was a thong was making the hunt a bit of a nightmare.

Reth started piling the rejected underwear rather vindictively on top of the unfinished work contracts Ryland had been so kindly helping her forget, burying them from sight. At the halfway point of the mess on the Laundry Chair, she uncovered an underbust corset and pulled it up for inspection with a soft sigh. It was as close to voidblue as cloth could get, with silver hardware and stars embroidered like fireworks across the front panels. In the flickering candlelight of the room, she even noticed something she’d never realized before: the stars were giving off their own soft white glow, just enough from each to make the entire piece look slightly ethereal. She felt her head cock, and one of the voices slithered up from its stupor and into the base of her skull. That thing sure turned out to be a waste of money, didn’t it? No wonder you buried it.

The room around her had just begun to dull when Ryland’s voice brought her back. “Hey, since we’re dressing up, can I try that on?”

She laughed happily and turned around again, to find him sitting up, arms resting on his knees, inspecting the corset with interest from his perch. She held it up and looked between him and it before nodding. “Oh, this would be perfect for you. It’s your colors, right down to the trim. And it’s never even been worn.”

Reth walked over and didn’t bother asking if he knew how to get into it as she handed it out. She wasn’t about to insult the man. He held it, looking over the front, and then the back, before running his fingers along the stitching of the panels themselves. “This is really well-made.”

“My friend is the best tailor I know when it comes to sheer versatility. It also helps that she doesn’t sleep much. I’ll pass the compliment along.” Reth was about to resume her search for the elusive fuschia thong, but before she returned to the hunt, she paused and bit at her lip. “...You realize I’d love to lace you into it myself, though, yes?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him and smiling faintly.

He grinned and looked up from the corset. “By all means, help. Does it have bottoms?”

She nodded, grin turning wicked. “Yes. I’d tell you to give up on those, but you’re not flat-arsed as the average man, which means you can probably fill something out meant for me. Get those laces loose, and I’ll get us our bottoms. You can decide if you want to try them when you see them.”

The sound of laces slipping through grommets came from the bed as she did one last look through her clean laundry. The corset’s matching bottoms were located more easily now that she knew what to look for. She held a deep blue thong out by a single long finger, showing where the crotch and back waistband met. The designer had placed a star there, so it would sit directly above the cheeks of whoever wore it and draw attention to their arse. Like the other stars on the corset, it too shimmered faintly in the light.

“Here it is! I’m still not sure it will be the most comfortable, since it was measured for me.”

Ryland held out a hand anyway, and she tossed it over with a chuckle.

“Laces are ready when you are,” he said with a grin, setting the thong down on the bed.

Light. Where was the bottom to hers? Reth stared at the Laundry Chair for a moment, and then shrugged and walked towards Ryland. “You’ll be happy to know that you’re far more intriguing than resuming the hunt for my missing underthings.” As she drew near, she held out her hand for the corset, and he offered it out.

Reth rested a hand on his shoulder and walked around to his back, taking a moment to lean in against him and enjoy warm skin before laughing quietly. “You handle the clips, and I’ll work the laces?”

He nodded, and she unfastened the front, removing the hooks from their eyelets with practiced fingers. Once the front was open, she held it against his middle, wrapping him in a sort of hug, and let him take the sides. Reth ran a nail along his shoulder as he exhaled and began closing it up. As it shut, it became clear just how she’d need to lace the back to make it look right and sit evenly. As she waited, her nail traced along his shoulder blade, then down to the top of the corset, before running across his upper back.

“All good up here,” he said, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder.

She’d honestly lost herself in petting for the moment, and had to take a breath and reorient herself. Touch was still so unusual; it was nice to know he didn’t mind.

“My turn. One should never have to get into a corset alone.” She slipped two fingers into the top lace and tugged, pulling it taut before moving down the line, one by one towards the middle. “You know, I think you might look better in this than I would have.” Tug, tug, as she pressed her other hand into his middle back to brace him where the laces met. “You’ve got that natural grace that a corset can’t get in the way of.”

He chuckled. “Thank you.”

Line by line, she laced him in, only asking once if it was too tight before taking the ends and tying them at his mid-back. “Let’s see you,” she murmured, putting a hand to his shoulder and tugging gently to encourage him to turn.

The end result was lovely, if she was absolutely honest. The blue was a tiny bit darker than she would have personally chosen for him, but that was her fault: she gravitated towards saturated colors these days. The cut accentuated his arms and chest, and the faint shine from the stars only brought out his muscle. It sat around his waist very nicely as well, in a way that made her want to run her hands along his skin. Instead, Reth pointed towards the mirror in the corner of the room, and followed along behind as he went to inspect the final result.

She looked at him in the mirror, head tilted from behind him to see around his shoulder. After a moment, she bit at her lower lip and smiled. “You look phenomenal. Do you want it? I can introduce you to the tailor who made it. I’m sure Indy can alter it so it actually fits you.”

Ryland slow-blinked in the mirror, meeting her eyes. “Indy made this?” He held a hand over his head, indicating height.

Reth saw the recognition, and then started laughing quietly. Of course he would know of Indy. That was just her luck. “I see you know her. Ah, well. What a small world.”