The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

Speaking of greeting Varisia properly...

In the past, after that first eventful night, Varisia had big plans for what to do with Coquette. Unfortunately, those plans were stymied by simple biology: Coquette spikes a fever, drenching her in sweat and forcing her to stay abed.She drifts in and out of consciousness, waking to find Varisia cuddled up to her mopping sweat from her brow, to find her wife forcing alchemical potions down her throat, anything and everything that might help ease her pain and help her survive. 

[Varisia Primfana]

"--peel an inch of skin off for every--"

Cool, damp, soft. It's the nicest sensation Coquette can identify, so despite the mundanity of it, the clothe draped over her forehead seems to be half the world right now. 

"--don't care about the fucking cost you stupid--"

The faint breeze, steadily building and ebbing in a gentle rhythm, that brushes over her bare skin is nice too though. Bare skin? Why is that strange to think?

"--she dies, I'll remove every bone in your arms and legs, then--"

A soft touch of skin against her cheek, the flesh cool and supple. Soft murmurs of concern and support. A kiss on her cheek, then her brow as the cloth there is replaced. 

"--healer is a damned fool. Useless, utterly useless. No curse, no disease, no poison. Oh, my wonderful wife, what ails you? I--"

More touches, this time all over her body. A cloth, sopping wet and delightfully cold, is run across her body with obvious care, every inch of her being wiped down. It's intensely intimate but not sexual, even when the cloth runs across her privates. Her mind drifts, lost in the soothing sensations, only to abruptly surface again when her body reports their absence. A whine of protest slips from her lips unheard by anyone.

"--perhaps if your master had given any kind of care or support for her, she would not be so frail and susceptible to whatever ailment she is suffering from. I have had the care of her for less than a week, you lying shit, so if you wish to assign blame to someone for her condition, look up from the boot you kiss and glare! Now--"

Soft, gentle tugs on her hair. A brush? A low, husky voice speaking. No, singing. She can't make out the words, can't even be sure they are words. It's nice though. 

"--very put out if you die on me, Coquette. This wasn't my plan, wasn't my idea. Death ends, I'd planned to create a familia of course, but not this soon. Nor to a noblewoman. Not even sure I would marry, though I think I would have. But... But I want this to work out, my she-wolf, my little bitch, my wife. So many sides to you, so much to discover and hone. I will reach you, find my way past your hate and fear and take your heart into mine. I won't let that bastard take you back. You deserve so much more than that cramped, gilded cage. You'll get through this fever, I'm sure of it. Even if the healers here are hacks and slime. Fucking bastard though-- Coquette?"

Silver hair fills much of Coquette's vision, along with a dark grey skinned face filled with concern and tentative hope. There's something soft and warm under her head and that cool breeze is back, whisking away at least some of the heat Coquette can still feel pouring from her body. "Are you awake? Truly awake this time? Coquette? Hey, come on, can you say something?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Hot," she whimpers, shifting a little across the pillow. My wife. Varisia. Caring for me? Angry because of me? Do not want. Head hurts. 

[Varisia Primfana]

There's a soft gasp from Varisia, then she clears her throat. "I know, little she-wolf, I know," she croons, leaning over to grab something. The way she moves, the angle of it... Oh. Not a pillow but a lap. "It's coming down, thanks be, just stay strong a little longer, alright?" That blessedly cool cloth makes another appearance as Varisia gently runs it across Coquette's forehead and cheeks. "There we go, that's better, right? Do you want more breeze?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Yes," she whimpers. "My head... My head hurts." 

[Varisia Primfana]

"You have a bad fever," Varisia says quietly, dabbing at her neck and face methodically with the cloth. "Our wedding was two days ago; almost three, I think. The sun set a few hours back but I haven't really been keeping track of the time."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Oh," she says quietly. "I'm so tired... can I sleep now?"

[Varisia Primfana]

"Just a moment more, little she-wolf," Varisia says quickly, twisting at the waist again to freshen the towel, the movement causing the older woman's breasts to sway under the dark red silk shirt she's wearing. Cool, almost cold, water drips on Coquette's face, then the cloth is draped over her bare chest. "Can you tell me your name? Tell me mine?" As she finishes speaking, the breeze starts to pick up slowly, going from the force of someone blowing on her from a few feet away to a mild summer breeze.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Cindy black," she says sleepily, as her eyes drift closed. "And you're Vari... Var... Something."

[Varisia Primfana]

Black? What? Is Cindy... short for Coquette somehow? "That's... close," she says supportively, then frowns as she sees Coquette drifting off. Not thinking twice about it, Varisia twists the towel around her fingers, then uses the chilled fabric to pinch her left nipple firmly. "Not yet," she croons softly.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Her eyes pop open, and she gives a little shriek, eyes wide with terror, breathing quickening. "Wh-- where am I?" she asks, eyes darting left and right. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Whoops. Too much? "Shhh, shhh," Varisia whispers gently, whipping the cloth away. "It's okay, you're safe. It's okay, I have you. I'll kill anyone that tries to hurt you, little she-wolf. You're safe here at home."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Home... yes. Home. I am your little bitch," she says, breathing slowing a bit as she looks up at Varisia. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Oh my. I doubt that'll stick all the way down but... oh my. Varisia has to fight the urge to gently roll Coquette over so her mouth will be just where it's best used. "That's my girl," she agrees, voice husky and low. "Hmmm. What month were you born in? And... do you remember your mother or sister's names?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Ermin. Alisenne and Melindre." She lets out a little whimper, shifting onto her side and cuddling up to Varisia's leg.