cisoriaseams

[cisoriaseams]

The coffee in scent alone perks Chiori up in ways one might think impossible. It's like a child's cartoon, how just letting such bitter warmth waft through nostrils. That first sip is like heaven, and the two that follow, despite a singed tongue, were indescribable. It takes only a few minutes before she's more amicable.

Initially, questions are answered with a faux politeness, only to remember that that was completely undeserved. Even as her temper becomes more apparent, it is leagues more tolerable than it had been. "No, I don't know what any of these words you're saying mean. I don't know what the Reverie Hotel is, I don't know about any barges aside from the ones that bring my materials, and they aren't at the edge of the star system, they are within a relatively large body of water."

She was only here because of that creature. Even if she can take solace in this being a dream, Chiori can only question what that extends to. Everything has felt so real, no pain has woken her. A calm shake of her head once more. "I've never heard of Penacony. I've personally been to Inazuma, Fontaine, Liyue, Mondstadt... do any of those names ring a bell?" The reactions he offers only discourage her further. As if the gravity of the situation is settling upon his shoulders as well. She almost feels bad.

An interconnected dream that was overseen by a group. What she'd have initially called insane feels more true than she wants to admit. Chiori is here, after all. Flaring up at the prospect of being a fugitive, she stops herself from lunging for his collar again. A deep breath, though still effectively just snarling at him.

"I didn't want to come here. How could this be? There's no way to go back without asking them?" Leaning forward, any sense of civility dissipates. She had heard him before, but suddenly the realization that this is far from literal hits. "How can I prove that I didn't break any rules or laws in being here? How can I show you and the family that I was brought here without my knowledge?"

sleepie times

[cisoriaseams]

His smile, impossible to tell whether there is a match or a bonfire behind it. Fire is still warmth, regardless of how long it may burn. The resolve she bears, it does not matter whether he tells the truth or not. He could be insane, with some old technology that'd been rediscovered, talking about fictitious dreams and visions. He could also be completely sane, and speaking the truth. They still stood a countless amount of steps from the base of the mountain.

"Mmm. We'll see about that once we find some." Crossed arms preserve warmth as they march onward, only quirking her head once he's broached the conversation. "I'm from Fontaine, a nation a fair ways away. I run a boutique there. It's a big brand, but I want to expand more, and there's a meeting between some government officials from another nation. Their climate is... more akin to this. Not always but most of the time, and I want to meet some of them and make some connections. And if nothing else, have winter clothing that I can distribute throughout Teyvat as a line. I figured this would be more discreet instead of going directly to Snezhnaya."

A deep breath, aware of just how long she'd talked. Clearing her throat, she turns her gaze back to Aventurine. As if sizing him up, she finally continues. "Some. There were some animals I drew inspiration from. I have a sketchbook somewhere here," She murmurs that last part, hands patting down her heavy coat before revealing a simple, worn, leather notebook. Less mindful of her steps, she flips through the pages, opening up more than she usually would. Sketches of dresses already made and ones never to see the light of day are passed in a second, finding that last couple she's made notes on.

She nearly stumbles as they finally stop walking at an incline, catching herself with relative ease. An annoyed huff, hanging tight to that notebook. Sketched figures with concepts decorating modest proportions, drawing from the fluffiness of the snow, sharp blues of the icy waters below, and even one based off a rabbit that'd be very well behaved. "That cave probably has some," she offers, tucking the notebook back away. "If you want starsilver, in there is our best bet."

♠　creation myth

comm. SWIRL⠀∶⠀heart of the dragonspine.

[cisoriaseams]

Thank The Seven someone (her) taught him how to dress. Well, less that he was taught and more that he was given the tools to succeed. Most people looked better when they dressed well. Thankfully as well, he was most people.

After his bold move during a tense wardrobe malfunction, it was only far that he take her out. It was an apology gift, one that was booked and prepared for by her, but it was his apology to her. Regardless, such semantics proved pointless when they wouldn't leave the confines of her own head. Chiori was well mannered enough to let it be, especially in public.

From the moment they entered, hooked arms grew tense. Walking beside him, she would give cursory glances and polite waves to those she recognized, though these guests were... a mixed bag, to put it nicely. Many were strangers, and those she did know were distant. As well dressed as she may be, it felt as if eyes were on them without pause. The man that accompanies her hardly crosses her mind initially.

Even so, after having found their seat and been offered a variety of beverages, the party seemed to stand still. Sheer boredom struck about 30 minutes afterwards, glancing around to find entertainment of any sorts. Kevin made for small talk, but aside from him there was nothing. Even the music seemed too bland for the standards Fontaine boasted. This felt like going to a restaurant rather than a social outing. It doesn't make sense, though the bouncers by the door pique interest, with narrowed eyes staring one down.

"A few of them..." musing as a glass of wine is swirled absentmindedly in a palm. "We're very well protected for this sort of event as well, wouldn't you say," as her gaze shifts over to the two dreary partygoers. "Hmm," under her own breath, finally bringing glass to painted lips, drawing a modest sip. "Not just them either. Not many here know how to dance with a partner it seems." Though clearly judgemental, awareness tugs at each word.

the writing on the wall

[cisoriaseams]

Her eyes found the girl, staring without any remorse in a judgemental fashion. "Stop looking around now. You're being too obvious." Though blunt, words are laced with concern, as if this one girl may well disappear too. She did not know Seele past her voice and her name, but she doesn't wish for this to be all she ever knew.

That plan is okay, achievable. Just because it can be done does not mean it should be done. The realization comes subtly, lips twisting as eyes linger upon the other. If they were going to get out, they would need to do more than just smash a window, she imagines. With how each entrance and exit becomes more guarded every minute, this would probably entail saving more than just themselves. And doing so in the potential chaos that may ensue...

A grumble. "We should help them. As easy as it would be to flee ourselves, I can't help but feel this would turn violent quickly if they felt jeopardized." Even if it would be more trouble than she'd care for...

"I think discretion is our best bet. If they feel comfortable, in control, they will get reckless, careless. The more intense we get, the more they'll tighten up. Or they could just remove us if they feel we're more trouble." A quick glance over her shoulder, taking a count of suspicious people and routes they could take. "How quickly can you move? Are you fast?"

Eyes find Seele again. "I've done some shows in this venue. That entrance over there, with the two guards, there's a hallway that leads to another show room and that balcony," she motions above, a mezzanine balcony wrapping around the length of the room. "I think getting up there gives us a better vantage point."

Now just came how to get Seele up there, already formulating a plan for herself.

Spinning the Hotel

[cisoriaseams]

Dragging Seele around like she were a small dog, she gets as much distance as possible from the men in just about any direction. Finally letting go, arms cross, sizing up the competition from across the room. They're all looking around, sussing out whoever may be onto them. Another tug, swift as can be, has them sitting again, keeping their eyes away, just in case they may find such awareness to be a challenge.

"Well ideally we want to get out." A drink that doesn't belong to her is quickly brought to sit between them, trying to appear as casual as possible. Simple, obvious, but important. "People are going missing. Look around, but be very careful. Make it look casual, as hard as that may be. The guests are being thinned out and I don't know why."

Eyes find the drink, swirling it absentmindedly. She doesn't know what to make of it, why any of it happening, but the seamstress doesn't bother to pray. Her goddess would not hear them.

"I don't plan on disappearing here," she offers. "My name is Chiori, can I ask yours, if we're gonna be calling for each other, I figure a name is better than help."

She takes a sip of her drink, sighing as the taste is less than ideal. Her face scrunches up, quick to pass it to the other. "If you're a vodka girl... not for me."

Spinning the Hotel

[cisoriaseams]

Weddings were the bane of Chiori's existence. Why, you may ask? Well, every bride should be made to feel like the most special woman in the world on their wedding night, but none ever wanted to break the mold and truly be unforgettable. She liked weddings, she truly did, but she hated the brides in most cases. Too stubborn to let go of tradition, the lot of them. Fontaine was a little more flexible, though her reputation carried her more than she'd like to admit on that front.

She knew exactly what she was walking into when she took this job in Inazuma.

The very reason she left in the first place, these irritating traditions that stifled any sort of creative measure bared their fangs once more. Even so, she packed heavy, even bringing a few pieces that had found success in other nations.

Pleasantries quickly fell into obscurity once Chiori began speaking to the bride properly. The faces she made as "ideas" were offered inspired less confidence. She tried to interject before an argument could erupt...

We can see how well that went.

After a deep breath, a simple, "I see you both still have some things to discuss. If you need me, I'll be at my inn. Thank you." Quick to remove herself, her frustration is clear, despite not having even been made to argue once.

The walk home is calm, the breeze as gentle as she had remembered. When not storming, the islands were beautiful. Even in the rain it felt like little could compare to the natural allure that Inazuma offered. Nostalgia that she had not felt in a long time. She did not miss home, but there was something sad that came from visiting. Nothing could be done about it, she supposed. Her attention is drawn back as another catches up to approach, and already she's got her arms crossed.

"Well you would better hope so. This is a costly trip," bluntly. Shutting shop down for a week, traveling half way across Teyvat, spending several days paying for an Inn. If this didn't work out, there was a very real chance she would never visit Inazuma again. "Did she ever give any indication of what she wanted before you got me, or was she just that insistent to have my name attached to it? Anyone here can make a wedding dress with some rose sash or two." Neglecting to mention any she may have brought in advance, it seems futile when the instructions were white stain with a few white flowers.

Still, she looks up at the sky, calming herself. It was not the Tengu's fault. And considering costs, she could at least find herself getting paid in some capacity. "At the very least, you and your brother have some sort of brain up there." A little harsh. "I'm going to get a drink in the meantime. You are welcome to join me." Not a very welcoming invitation, but an invitation nonetheless.

Wedding Bells RingingーWait Why Do I Hear Boss Music Instead?

⁀➴ main quest ; chiori & sara

[cisoriaseams]

His comment only earns rolled eyes and a cold glove to her forehead. She tries to reason his words, as simple as they may be, to weigh all possible options. It's not out of shock nor disbelief. Her eyes betray the calm, "I'd find it hard to believe," with this guy is a lunatic. But she spends little time lamenting in how she got herself caught up with such a strange man. She only had herself to thank for having walked this far in. No, she continues from disbelief.

"But your technology is unlike anything I've ever seen, you don't know what starsilver is, you don't know who or what The Seven are... While I would have several other questions should that, I must admit that considering how little you know for how advanced you are..." She leaves it at that. Yet at such a revelation, this all just seems to be... a bother to her. Perhaps her answers to him would have been different had she known the rabbit hole she'd have found herself in.

Yet it is just as easy to walk away. At the very least, his sense of style wasn't miserable. There may still be hope yet for her winter line.

She shakes her head, approaching with only a couple of steps. "So then..." Her lips twist. She has half answers, not quite sure where the truth ends nor begins. "What happened to bring you here. Surely you didn't just decide to come here because of a door." As she draws nearer, she doesn't feel threatened at least.

♠　creation myth

comm. SWIRL⠀∶⠀heart of the dragonspine.

[cisoriaseams]

A short yet powerful exhale, eyes honing in on the man at the mentions of food. Appetite hadn't even been a consideration since the fall into this nightmarish trip that part of her doesn't even know whether to indulge. Just then, it is made very obvious to the both of them that the seamstress hungers. Even with her penchant for sweeter treats, the pizza did sound good. "Fine. That sounds good enough."

Leaning onto the bar more, her forehead rests on folded hands. Eyes still remained open, flicking back and forth to other patrons of this establishment. Murmurs deafened by her own conversation suddenly become easier to focus on. The little nudges they give each one another, the way drinks and hands try to naturally cover lips to prevent the possibility of them being read, the insincere snickers at jokes made about them no doubt. It inspires Chiori to pick herself up.

Even in a dream, eyes still found that which did not belong.

"It's certainly better than the mess outside." Fire dimming with each word, there is comfort. Be it the warmth helping to erase the air beyond those doors and its frigid touch, or that her legs may dangle, she is more content than she had been before. Another glare, perhaps hooking onto that 'alive' word.

"Tch, I could really use that right now. It feels like it's been hours, but at the same time not even five minutes. I can't tell if time is moving the same or differently. This feels like one of those dreams where," a hand waves around in a small circle a few times, "where you wake up more fatigued." All she can hope is that food would help.

Drinks are finally served, and a reminder that the food will be just a little longer.

Hands clasp around the small, ceramic cup, lifting bitterness to cracked lips. Despite steam and the jolt of such heat on tongue, the woman is reinvigorated. Eyes more wide than they had been, even she is shocked by the relief.

His question earns a blank look at the counter, trying to discern if any of those words actually meant anything to her. "I don't know what that is. All that I know is that I went to bed in my room as I do most nights. I thought it was just a bad dream, your... whatever it is dragging me here."

sleepie times

[cisoriaseams]

While a long walk through the Liyue country side was not Chiori's initial goal, it did lend itself to a rather thoughtful experience. Fontaine was gorgeous, with sprawling creeks and bubbling brooks that spilled from the edges of mountains or ran through waterways carved, be it naturally or otherwise. Time alone like this was best spent thinking of her own goals, desires, wants.

While usually meticulous, having time to reevaluate any plans was useful. It allowed her to think of orders and how feasible they were given the time period she set for herself. Pondering over the carved necklace, thumbs would run along its edge, pressing gently each time it hit a point, just slide onto the next edge. The shape was simple, but the material was what caught her eye initially. It was expensive, not one a kid would easily be able to afford, especially if of this quality.

The road to the chasm final comes to a steep slope, and down she would gaze, finding the ruins of mining operations and various buildings. Her eyes would find another though, walking in the direction she was headed. It could have been a coincidence had their location been different.

"Hey, wait up!" Voice booming through the largely empty space, she would step with purpose towards him.

As she finally catches up, she can take him in. His attire was close enough, but different than the usual trends. Peculiar, but what she finds most intriguing are his eyes and his expression. He seems lifeless, focused far too hard on whatever he was doing.

"Are you headed into the mines as well? What business do you..." her voice would trail off as her eyes found his hands. A pendent, shaped like a star, made of Cor Lapis. Her own package dangled through her fingers. Eyebrows knit together as she looks back up to him. "Who gave you that?"

@neverendingdeath

is hot to go about pizza?

[cisoriaseams]

These gatherings often presented an ultimatum dependent on whomever was in attendance: an opportunity to make new acquaintances, or an opportunity to drink during the day. This certainly felt like the latter.

A glass raised, gently rotated back and forth betwixt three fingers, watching wine of crimson swish back and forth proved more entertaining than any company that she found herself in. The rich, nobles, aristocrats, artisans, all of which felt themselves larger than reality. If you did not find yourself in their court, then you were simply too small to be noticed.

Chiori didn't play games like that. While of the same goal, they were not of the same mind.

Eyes fell upon a handful of ladies, whispering to each other and growing in nerve. Hardly a thought is given as glass meets her lips. Eyes shut as she takes a drink. Once the glass is set down and eyes open, a look to the other side of the room. Not even 30 seconds, and when she gazes back to the women, they are gone. In their place, a couple of men in suits, menacing in posture and attitude.

Her back would straighten, gazing back around to see these higher ups flocking out as subtly as possible. The glass clinks to the table as she rises from her seat, the thud unnoticed by those around the seamstress.

At a moments notice, hard arm hooks around another, a rougher looking girl with long hair. Before any protest, a quiet, "Something is going on here. Act natural." Then, a nod to one of those grizzly men as they pass by.

"You look like you know how to handle yourself. Can you?" A soft sigh, motioning to the door. However, what stood between them was a wide man, bulky and strong by the looks of it. "Because I have a feeling there's trouble." An irritated grumble, grip loosening on the stranger.

@dream-of-butterflies

Spinning the Hotel

[cisoriaseams]

miss chiori once chance pleasde 🎲🎲🎲

A kiss on the cheek

"Yup, just leave that right over there," she ordered as she hoisted another box herself. A shipment of new materials and mannequins that should've arrived a few days ago led to a lot of headaches. It meant she had to reach out to clients to tell them their own order was delayed, it meant that she had to offer compromises rather than the product she offered.

Chiori was not one to compromise.

She can already tell that these next couple nights would be sleepless. Even as she pedals the boxes to where they'll rest until crunch time is over, she rattles off each order in her head. Being blindsided by incompetence was not something to make a habit of. She was just lucky to have found assistance in a girl like herself.

"I mean, really, where you leave them doesn't matter as much." A resigned sigh, placing the box down with a bit more struggle than she wanted to admit. These were heavier than expected. This was her recompense for ordering bulk. Longer ship times and heavier boxes. Never again.

A deep breath. "Just as long as they're inside." They would work diligently, and soon enough, everything had been brought in. The sun was beginning to set, and as she gazed longingly out her window, she mused over an offer.

A motion to the other girl, beckoning her near. "Would you like to stay for coffee? I'll pay you for your services, of course..." a lingering gaze as Mei seems to look away at the offer. Then, a soft peck to her cheek, poking her right after. "If you don't want to, saying no is fine. Let me get you the Mora you've earned."

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 what's the worst that could happen-

A bloody kiss

I don't think it's that bad but in case anyone gets unsettled or discomforted by mentions of violence, gore, and/or torture. 👍

A new phenomenon, to feel so little in the presence of another. Blades of wind and daggers of ice, static that seeped through veins like the roots of a tree. Such torture bred animalistic urges, thrashing and growling, screeching out each time a blow or stab was delivered.

Hair messily framed ruined features, one eye swollen to the point of not being able to properly close. Busted lips and cuts on her forehead were cauterized in the heat of electrocution, only to be reopened with simple flicks. Each pause would leave the seamstress twitching, gasping and slobbering without control. Breathing made her chest sore. Tears had all but dried up, a sign that despite growing resistance, her body could not stand to her mental fortitude. She was still human.

Such favors seem to have caught up, dragged to some outpost far off in the countryside by some rogues, dawning the Fatui's fits. Any empty threat about what their superiors may do were ignored. Consequences would only find them if Chiori were to escape. Things may not have been so bad if she had not attempted such flight already, now sitting with two blades twisted into each thigh.

Bruises and blows only grew, each member taking their turn in roughing her up. Breaths only grew quicker, drawing as much from the air as her lungs may allow one the prospect of a broken nose presents itself. They realize she can still breathe. Stomach and chest then barraged with heels and fists, her jaw receives so many right hooks one may mistake her for the catch of the day. Blood is spat upon the ground; gasps grow shorter, quicker, trying stay conscious. Eyes begin slipping.

Slipping.

Slipping...

A sudden crash, mere seconds as Deliverance rips through the stone tower. His expression is as cold to gaze upon as he is to touch. Forced awake by the sounds and lack of pain leave her to watch as each member is dispatched with ease. Jerking, arms and legs can't seem to work with each other, wanting to help despite it not being needed. No, she did not want to help. She wanted to break even.

His justice is too quick, too painless.

When he finally comes to her aid, she immediately tries to move forward, rising on her own, only to collapse on the floor. An arm comes forward, so tense that it feels as if the sinews keeping it joined to her are being ripped apart. Even going forward an inch is too much. He makes her feel without weight, hoisting her and carrying her so easily. Her neck craning to keep it upright, eyes cannot focus.

"Kevin. Look at me..." Just shy of hyperventilating, she asks, "Kevin... please..." she asks, reaching up to take haphazardly grab at his collar. "Kevin..." she repeats, until he finally looks down. Lips find his without warning, eyes too swollen to even close. "Thank you," is what she offers when she finally releases him.

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 🤲

A bloody kiss

Chiori had a lot of influence, despite only having one shop. Such sway was arguably not her own however. A list, growing longer with each new client, of people performing less than legal activities that she kept in her pocket. While easy enough to eliminate any competition, be it through sheer sales or other less-than-savory dealings, that was never necessary. Quality ruled the market, and there was no quality higher than that of the Chioriya Boutique.

In exchange, favors were given. So long as nothing illegal passed through the boutique (at least as long as it did so without her knowledge), she would assist in making outfits, mending outfits, mending wounds, providing intel, gaining intel... It appeared shady, but really, it was just friends exchanging gossip at its core...

Then came Kafka.

A rogue outside of any agency she knew of, domestic or foreign. Her words were smooth, like a decadent hot chocolate, coasting through ones throat without any irritation or unpleasant sensation. A mixture of respectful, resigned, and freakish, cocky enough to piss Chiori off yet suave enough to keep patronage.

Tonight came about by chance. Whatever business Kafka was here one found her in the company of some vile thugs. Though her guns were far beyond that of Fontaine's, she only had herself. They had several, with the puttings of rounds ringing out just outside the Court of Fontaine proper.

Had Chiori not been out on a material run...

The boutique's door is pushed open with her foot, leading the limping lady in. Despite how much she repeated that she didn't run a hospital, she treated it like one. Blood trails through, against tiled floors, seeping into grout. Through the showroom to the back, Kafka is left to lay on a couch.

The seamstress is thinking about more than just her. The blood leading into the boutique, the blood in the boutique, her outfit so soaked in red that she looks just as much a victim, the wounds oozing with life. Once the weight of Kafka is dropped, an exasperated, "Ah! Alright. Alright." A scream to vent stress, then pieces collected. "One at a time." Teeth grit, ready to get to work.

Hours pass as wounds are sewn shut, then bandaged. This was what she got, for finding another woman's name on her list. Eyes finally shut, a clean rag rubbing against her own forehead. She hardly notices the weary hand that finds her collar. Tugged down, eyes widen at the sudden display of intimacy. A taste of copper and raspberry, inherently more exposed due to her surprise. There is no tact on her end of the kiss.

Shock does not yield resistance, though. Instead, she lets it go, eyes narrowed, soft, finding support of the others head in her lap. And then, the calmest of thanks. The words that came after hardly mattered, taking in the taste one last time. "Don't do it again..." barely an ember.

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 Take your pick, Mademoiselle Chiori.

Kiss to the stomach

The click of the seamstress' tongue, already on her knees before the hunter. A tooth holds the corner of her lip, ruining the skin that she would normally have been tender with. Emergency repairs are common, between Clorinde and the House of Hearth's reckless agents. It is hidden well, but Chiori is tired. The candle burned at both ends, only growing hotter with the sudden addition to the workload.

"It's fine." Such fatigue need not appear on her features for the other to gather. It's in movement, more sluggish and likely to make a mistake. Even such reassurance sounds strained. It was not her work that was ruined, not this time at least. A bloodied shirt is snipped away, revealing more of the wound.

Chiori knew not why they came to her instead of a medical practitioner. Still, alcohol cleansed the wound, over-the-counter medicine numbed the pain a tad, needle prickling against the woman's stomach each time it pierced, dragging surgical threads through the nearly sutured flesh.

"I don't know if it'll scar, but..." Index and thumb tug her pinkie, then ring, then middle, then index, removing gloves far too nice to be covered in blood. A grunt as eyes find crimson stains, already dreading the wash that would come the next day. The same motion is done for her other hand, just dropping it on the floor for the time being. A deep breath.

Cheek meets thigh, gazing up to the Fontanian for a brief moment. Then, back to what brought her in. It is flesh, practically glowing. Wordless, scarlet eyes just stare, draped over the others lap. Lips find the soft flesh of the navel, only here because she was too tired to drag herself back to bed.

"We really need to stop meeting like this..." eyes shut. "Or bring a coffee next time..."

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 platonic, for one of the most frustrating men you know ;)

A kiss to the shoulder

Though the jaws of death were sharp and cold, the one that held the leash was much warmer. The unfortunate fact of the matter was that it was his lack of care for his dog that led her here, and it was her attention to detail and demands of retribution that found them in this position. After all, it was not often that you found a male model with the a build like that. Though she would much prefer to mend or make a dress, practicing tailoring on suits made for muscular builds was always useful.

"Can you relax? I've not struck you yet," she chides, face hovering over a seam closest to his elbow. "You have large arms, and when you flex, it makes the seam misaligned. You'll have breathing room, I promise." A sigh, pulling her stool in closer to help herself stitch quicker.

Perhaps he was tired of holding his arm up? Perhaps he shouldn't have let his creature drag her here, how about that?

After a few minutes, she would stand, circling him, "supporting" one of his triceps. In reality, two fingers trace down the seam, then back up closer to his shoulder. "Stand up." He follows instructions, a little too well. Too tall. "Stand less up." Better. Her leg extends behind her, pulling another stool to them with her unique heels. She then finds steadiness upon the step up, leaning on him more while she finishes yet another small seam.

Practically hanging off of him, the thirty seconds it takes to finish hopefully felt more taxing. As she finishes, he is released, with her assessing her work. "Good... See, that wasn't so hard? You've got a knack for it. Most of the time people are complaining by now... or..." or you're Navia. A gentle peck to his shoulder, before patting him on the back.

"Come now, let's see what the rest of the bar thinks of your new suit."

[cisoriaseams]

🎲 expects the whole house of the hearth to roll up again to her shop like

A kiss to the back of the hand

For as common as a ballroom dance was in the Court of Fontaine, it was rare to find someone so talented. Everyone knew the basics, but the basics do not make one talented. It is what one does to innovate, to create their own name and reputation, that sets one apart from the rest. Be that in the fiscal world or the social world.

Each step anticipates what is to come next, where they will end five paces from now. It is not reactionary, always on beat and aware of the next note to come after. Dances were difficult to pry from the seamstress for that exact reason. Most could not think to the end of the song, only living in the moment, staggering to react to each note as it came. It was disrespectful not only to the artist performing such songs, but to the artists dancing to them.

At least the Fatui knew how to present their finest. A girl might lose hope with how pitiful most suitors held themselves.

Much like each step, each touch was calculated. Ghosting down triceps, crossing ridges of the elbow, gliding across lacy forearms to raise porcelain hands as a chalice of wine. Another comes down, etching her side like chalk on pavement, except no small crease could stop gnarly appendage, masqueraded as digits. Down further, dipping around a sash, quick to make itself snug on her hip. Each time the harbinger sought to find new purchase on the seamstress' body, modesty tempered desire.

Scarlet eyes could not be deciphered.

Even as the music ceases, exposed back to a decorative vest, a head tilts back. Brunette bun catching just slightly amidst the buttons of the Fontanian as gazes meet. A polite applause, though not directed at them. Simply celebration for finishing a dance. People were truly so easy to amuse.

A step away, pivoting to curtsy. Though her own hand rested comfortably in Arlecchino's, a devious little thought. Not letting go, a thumb keeps a darkened index ensnared. Raised but a few inches so that the Knave's wrist is bent upwards, she catches a glimpse of the back of her hand. Cheek meeting knuckles, storm clouds roll over. Parting lips are quick, a tender offer to a busy woman. Eyes flick from the hand nuzzled against her face to the Fatui's. Lingering only a moment longer, she lets go.

"Satisfactory."

[cisoriaseams]

🎲

A kiss underwater

For as much work as crafting each piece could be, just as much effort must be dedicated to the presentation. The model that dawned the garment, the environment used to compliment or contrast, the time of day, if natural lighting was your preference. For the bags that Chiori had begun to wear beneath her eyes, she feels worse for the Vidyadhara, one so patient yet so obviously irritated with how long this was taking.

This Lingsha girl, she was the inverse of Chiori. Where the customer was as easily discarded as scrap to the seamstress, the alchemist wore a mask. One of positivity and acceptance, even when such a smile was nothing more than a disguise to hurry along an unwanted interaction. If Chiori had more patience, she might find herself in the serpent.

Elegant silks cascaded off toned arms, wearing beads of water that reflected the light in brilliant and dazzling ways. Yet for as stunning as Lingsha was, should the water catch the light ever so slightly off, the entire film would have terrible lens flare. This sort of shoot required patience, one befitting of the woman before her. At the very least, the beach was quiet. No audience to irritate her further.

As minutes turned to hours, waiting for the perfect moment, Chiori would find herself beside her muse, offering different poses and instructions. Treading water in heels such as her own is ill-advised though, as in a mere moment, footing would fail her.

Back she would fall, plunging deep into the waters of the Court without warning. While the swim was not difficult, flashes of red and brown, pure elegance surrounding and enrapturing her, an attempt to help steady the seamstress.

Several feet beneath the surface, damp fabrics bloom upwards, hairs splaying out, rays of light glimmering at angles that even a dream could not capture. She is decadent, surreal and gorgeous. And that smile. Pastels and oils, blues fading into reds with no shades of purple between them. For as long as the artist can view her masterpiece, she need not breathe.

Clothed palms find pale cheeks, soft jaws. Holding steady, air is exchanged between delicate lips. Thanks, for having birthed such an epiphany.

It is only then that Chiori remembers her mortality. Gasping for air moments later, eyes brimming with passion find Lingsha. Only time would tell if the Kamera was waterproof.