❰❰ HAND KISS ❱❱
A shade of hair he hadn't expected to see, he'd hoped to, of course, yet falling into the role of retainer is just as easy as flipping a switch, arm tucked behind his back as another reaches for gloved digits. Its familiar, the routine that takes place as the back of her hand is pressed against his lips, a familiar mirth that shines within chartreuse hues, speaking to the homesickness that is so easily calmed by the presence of one surely missed.
"My Lady." A term wrapped in affection platonic, in familiarity that surrounds the young woman to whom a great portion of his life had been devoted to in service. A release of the digits, stepping into lockstep with a great familiar ease as his mind races in recollection of all that things of which he could speak to her before settling on a topic wrapped in calm familiarity. "I've procured a sizeable quantity of exotic teas of late, would you do me the honour of allowing me to brew you some at your convenience?"
self-indulgent meme
( still accepting! )
Not for vapid reasons, such as the convenience his attentiveness brought to her daily routine, or the way he answered her every beck and call. Perhaps there was comfort in it—a certain stability... but what was truly missed was the way he seemed to always have a pot of tea ready whenever she was in a poor mood, or the ease with which they could slip into conversations about the weather, the sights, the happenings of the day.
All of it so beautifully—mercifully—mundane.
His presence at her side was an immeasurable joy, the moments they shared together an accumulation of much smaller ones. The yawning chasm of his absence, the weight of it, had not been truly registered until she felt the familiar slip of her hand into his, and against her knuckles, a smile that never failed to soothe the soul.
"Louis." Céline greets her retainer in turn, hand slowly drawing back as he releases it, "It gladdens me to see you well, my friend."
The princess gives a slight smile at his offer for tea, trying not to betray the flutter of excitement at what was probably her greatest joy. "Is it even a question? Your taste for leaves are second to none—let us sample them together, as you update me on what you've been up to."
