The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette snorts. "Did you see those fingers? I could do far worse, I think. And he didn't seem nearly as bad off as Nathaniel."

[The Iron Bull]

He nods, eyebrow waggling for a few seconds. "Bit surly, which takes some of the pretty off," he admits with a shrug, lip quirking up. "But, well, given things, I certainly can't blame him for being wary and prickly."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"We'll give him a couple days to settle in before I call him to my bedroom. I want to get the lay of the land before I decide how to proceed with him. If he wants to be Sai's, he can be, but I want dibs before she gets her hooks into him."

[The Iron Bull]

Bull nods easily, though he can't help but think yet again about how much the idealistic young woman who rescued him from the fighting pits has changed in the last decade or so. Ten years ago, you'd never had even thought about getting your cunt filled before befriending him. Granted, she's not wrong about her Bitchiness. She's damn good at worming her way into people's heads-- and beds. Or should that be into their heads by way of her bed? "You want I try talk him first?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"No," she says, worrying her lower lip. "But tomorrow, ask Shisou what he thinks of him. I'm not sure the kid can lie worth a damn, he'll have a better insight as to what his character's like when he's not facing The Mistress." She then rises up onto her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on Bull's cheek. "Right. Off to the cook."

[The Iron Bull]

Hoping for a laugh-- well, a playful scold or glare-- Bull steps forward quickly and gently slaps her ass when she turns away. "On it, boss lady," he says quickly, already backpedaling away from her. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

She giggles, covering her mouth with one hand. "Dumbass," she teases. "One of these days you're gonna get caught." Still, she doesn't mean it. She knows how careful he is to act proper around The Mistress. 

[Varisia Primfana]

'Only by you, my heart,' he thinks as he tips her a salute and pivots around the corner to head off.


"Verdlauna."

A soft whisper, a throaty purr, one that sends oh so very familiar shivers across her skin. Knowing what that name, heard alone in the halls, means, Coquette smiles and lets herself be pulled into the room she'd been passing by on her way to the solar. Smooth, soft hands grip her wrists and hungry lips capture her mouth as the smell of leather, witch hazel and Varisia's own scent clouds her mind. Strangely, it only lasts for a minute-- ten at most-- before her wife pulls back.

Resting her cheek against Coquette's temple, she sighs. "I'm sure you have questions," she offers in the sharper, more rigidly complex form of drow used by nobles. It's perfectly possible for someone only familiar with one to understand the other, but unless they're a very quick study or are experienced with dialect shifts, there'll be a few details lost in each direction. It's good then that Coquette has all three qualities, as it's the only thing that Varisia will speak while they're alone since the older woman taught her in the beginning of their marriage. Varisia taught her a lot of languages, finding them an invaluable tool and one that cannot be taken away from a person like things of metal or wood.

Though she still hasn't so much as confessed which blasted language that nickname or endearment is from, much less what it means. She could simply use magic to translate, almost certainly, but by this point, she'd sooner grit her teeth and ignore the nagging puzzle than give up and take the easy answer.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Always," she purrs, but rather than reach for the question ready on her lips -- what did you promise to get Zevran? -- she indulges her pride and asks instead, "How was your trip?"

[Varisia Primfana]

"Profitable of course," her wife replies with a teasing arrogance. "But terribly dull," she admits. "Sweetwater is surprisingly quick to hire those of my skill set for such a placid, staid people. I picked up a few things for the girls, of course, and managed to find two new corset-makers to try out. Hopefully one of them is able to fill the void Goddy Dannaport's passing left in our wardrobes." The glint of teasing remains in her eyes, though now it's clearly about dancing around reporting about how well Coquette's lesser-wife appropriate magnitude business suggestion had turned out.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Ooh, what did you bring me," teases her wife, playfully grinning. "One of my favorite corset ribbons snapped clean in half last week, I will have you know."

[Varisia Primfana]

With a chuckle, Varisia darts in to peck her lips. "Is that 'for you' on me or 'for you' on you?" She kisses her again before continuing. "I got a dozen new corsets, most for me to wear as one of the makers-- this really sweet human girl with the most adorable eyes-- loathes making clothing for people without measuring them personally, or at least having a personalized model. If we decide we like her work, I'll send her a mock-up of you so you can order some as well." Hopefully her 'divorce' will be over by then so she can focus. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"You know if you are interested in tight-lacing," begins Coquette for the umpteenth time. Tight lacing is impractical but oh so attractive to the younger merikos, and so has been the subject of ongoing debates for some time now.

[Varisia Primfana]

Deciding on a new tactic, instead of replying, Varisia steps back and yanks her shirt over her head in one smooth motion to reveal a distinct lack of underthings. Smooth, smokey grey skin, toned abdominal muscles that are just shy of forming ridges, lush breasts tipped with dark brown, almost purple nipples from which gold hoops gleam invitingly are all point on brazen display. Running her hands down her sides to rest on her broad hips, just over the tattoo of the entwined dragons chasing a lightning bolt, the merikos drow gives Coquette a challenging stare. 

"Does this," she stamps her foot minutely, causing her assets to bounce and sway, "look like it can be squeezed into more of an hourglass?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Yes," says Coquette, with a laugh. "I know, your assets are bounteous and wonderful. But I love the feel of a tight-laced waist under my arm."