16. A kiss on the hand for Semiri and Scourge :D
“Are you honestly going to make me go change in the guest room, Jedi?”“Out, Sith! I have to get ready. All your things are already in there.”
Scourge inhales deeply, standing out on their plant-crowded patio. It rained sometime the night before, but the day of the biggest social event in Imperial history has dawned dry and light, albeit with perhaps weaker sunlight than is ideal. He touches soil in the pots under the eaves, picks up the watering can and trails water over them.
Behind him, Semiri clears her throat; he turns and nearly drops the can on his shoe.
She’d guarded the dress Kryn’s couturier had chosen more strenuously than the Republic guards its planet-killer weapons (though perhaps that wasn’t saying much); he hadn’t even been able to wheedle the color out of her, and now he can see why.
Composed entirely of twilight-violet velvet, a wide choker covered in gems circles her throat, the two strips of cloth attached to it flowing to either side of the bodice and out behind her in a cleverly designed cape. The dress itself hugs her curves, with two slits stretching from hem to mid thigh revealing her legs and the matching heels, their straps crisscrossing across her feet and up her calves.
She’s pulled her ebony hair up into what looks like a complicated coil, her only jewelry a pair of earrings made from the same gems at her throat and the ring he’d given her when they’d moved into this house in the Garden District.
Uncertainty flashes in Semiri’s blue eyes. “Is it ... okay? Celinin was insistent on it.”
“Well, one, I would never argue with Celinin Maifarr,” Scourge chuckles, “and expect to survive the reprisal. Two, it is not okay.”
He crosses the space between them, lifting her hand and bending to press a kiss to the back of it, looking up at her from under his lashes before he straightens. “It’s perfect, Semiri.”
