The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

"I do not think she is the marrying type," Zevran rasps out, lips smoothing out into a a feeble though sincere grin. One eye cracks open, just enough to look at her. "'sides, she'd not survive the engagement."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Don't you murder my wife, no matter how bad she is. I don't want to get a bad reputation. Whomever she picks, I will bear it."

[Zevran]

Zevran pouts, then sighs deeply. Well, starts too, as he stops abruptly, a pained expression showing for just an instance. He pushes past it quickly though, saying, "as you command, my love." No killing your wives. Fiancés on the other hand...

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Rest, love. I will handle things from here." Her voice is tender, kind. 

[Zevran]

Zevran closes his eye and settles his head back into the pillow. "...she knows," he murmurs. "That you drugged her. She seemed... impressed, in a way. Excited. Rival?" His voice is slurred with fatigue, nearly incomprehensibly so, by the end of his sentences, but he fights to stay away to warn her.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She reaches down and strokes his hair, gently. "Alright, love. Sleep now."

[Zevran]

Lips curving in a fond, sleepy smile, he turns his head to brush his lips against the pulse point of her wrist, then visibly relaxes into sleep.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette straightens, turning to Claudia. "Right. Let's get me dressed and ready for the meal."

[Claudia Emerison]

Closing the book she'd been pretending to read to give the couple some privacy, Claudia bobs her head. "Right, yes." They really do love each other. And... Alydra's name, the Matriarch wouldn't marry her off to... No. Of course not. Right? I mean, she'll want her married close but surely not... "Right," she repeats, trying to shake off her sudden fears. "Scents first, then silks."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette is quiet during the dressing process; she acquiesces to Claudia's opinion on scents, then layers the new outfit atop them: a contraption of primarily lace, a solid black fish-net over top of a silver fish-net, with a knitted shackle design across the chest that just so happens to cover both nipples with a bit of chain-like lace. It's subtly evocative of Junon, whom Noire pretends they worship; Cindy actually worships Ciren, and Cedric Vangal, though they don't often speak of such, especially to the Drow. 

[NPCs]

Her hair is braided into two long plaits that circle the crown of her head and then join together before falling free down her back. The use of an enchanted comb had grown Coquette's hair out so that even with the braiding, the end of it brushes the ground as the merikos drow walks barefoot towards the Matriarch's private chambers. Mint and woodsmoke are a strange combination, one that would cause a social scandal in Alessia, but the handful of drow she passes all seem to approve of her ensemble if their thirsty glances and envious glares are any indication. 

Perversely, hatefully, she finds herself grateful to Varisa; if her ex had not pushed her to burn out most of her Glalian prudeness she'd never have been able to make this walk with any degree of serenity or gracefulness. The lace hides her nipples, mostly, but her bottom half is unobstructed by anything but the shimmering fish-net. It's just thick enough to prevent people from making out any details but it implies so very, very much. The fact that it's so tight against her skin, the way it clings to her legs and ass, the way it cups and lifts her breasts, the way that the neckline is very clearly a collar... That's just salt in the wound really.

She's just down the hall from the door to Feythal's private domain when a pureblood drow steps out from some shadows that shouldn't have hidden her from Coquette's eyes. "Well well, look at you," Paerle murmurs, giving Coquette a blatant once and twice over. "Clean up rather nicely for a whore."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Step aside," she says, simply. "I have a meeting with the Matriarch."

[NPCs]

"That's your problem," she replies sweetly, eyes sharp. "I have questions for you that you're going to answer first."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I don't think so." She starts to walk around Pearle. 

[NPCs]

As she'd more than half expected, Paerle sidesteps to block her. "I care not for what you think, degenerate filth," the drow hisses, half-unseen sparks of green in her eyes. "You will answer my questions, be it with your mouth or your blood."