The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

She gives a small curtsey, pretending to have a skirt, and nods. "I do not know what to wear," she whispers. "Cindy prefers the black and Noire the red and we do not know how to make the effect we wish to make."

[Zevran]

Zevran nods slowly, gaze returning to the milk but his attention still somehow very much on her. "Hmm. Would you care for a suggestion then?" At her affirmative noise, he continues, "something sedate, not innocent but approaching so. But then, underneath that; pure, tantalizing sex."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Sqweetheart nods, and, with another curtsey, exits back into her room. 

When she emerges, a surprisingly long time later, she's wearing a sedate gown, something like she might have worn in Glaley: full-length skirt, scoop-neck collar. 

[Zevran]

By then, Zevran has finished the heat part of his project. He's poured the milk into two separate mugs, each near a seat. There's a brown stick in each one; a close look shows it to be almost like a very short scroll made from rough but thin tree bark. "Spiced milk, a counterpoint to sweet milk teas in Glaley or hot chocolate from Alessia," he explains, looking Sweetheart over. "A fine choice, love. May I do up your hair while you relax? And eat a little," he adds, drawing attention to the small plate of sliced cheese and fruit.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Yes, please," she whispers, sitting and beginning to nibble some cheese. 

[Zevran]

Cute as a mouse. Smile even warmer, softer, he moves behind her. He doesn't go right for her hair, instead running his hands along her arms to her shoulders where he massages the tense muscles there briefly. Gently kneading the balls of his thumbs into the base of her neck, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "How're you doing, Sweetheart?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Bad," she whispers. "The brain is bad today."

[Zevran]

Fuck. "What's wrong?" he asks, voice still low and soothing. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Guilty," she whispers. "Sad. Scared. Ashamed."

[Zevran]

"What do you feel guilty about?" Zevran asks, intending on taking them one at a time and in order.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She is quiet a moment, then, "we got mad. We said bad things. Got in trouble."

[Zevran]

"Getting in trouble is rough," Zevran agrees with a sigh. He kisses the top of her head, then reaches around to hug her loosely. "But I think you were right to be mad. She did really mean, hurtful things. Evil things. Good people should be mad about things like she did."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"....are we... good people?"

[Zevran]

"I think we are," Zevran says without a hint of hesitation, deceit or doubt. "Even when you were being hurt, when you were caged and crushed down... you still cared. Loved. Helped. Hoped." Another kiss. "You are a wonderful woman, Coquette. As a whole and as you, Sweetheart."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I don't think... I don't think Noire is a good person. I think she's a scared person who is sometimes mean."