((Starter for @thegracefulragingtempest ! ))
It was early afternoon, and Queenie had come to visit Tempest to try on some of the dresses she was making. Queenie didn’t mind standing around so much; being a model for the outfits was enough incentive, and Tempest certainly seemed to view it as her ‘helping out’. The main draw was getting a dress of her own fitted for the trouble. Her arms and legs were getting stiff, though, and being pricked by the occasional pin wasn’t so wonderful, but she could bear it.
When Tempest tightens her corset a little too much, however, Queenie seems to have reached her limit, and squawks a pained cry. “AaiiiEEee—! Good goddesses, woman! Are you trying to break my spine? I know beauty is pain, but it would be preferable to have an intact ribcage!!”
She takes a few short, shallow breaths to calm herself, anticipating some slight loosening or, at the very least, some reassurance. After recovering, she decides it would be better to converse than stand stiffly in silence. There was something she’d been meaning to press about, anyway…and it was only fair ‘revenge’.
“Tempest, would you mind terribly if I asked you a rather personal question?” Queenie doesn’t wait for an answer. “It’s about your parents.”
