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[demandsatisfaction]

« LadyHollow » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION Lilias Hollow ✦ Tabletop OC
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ooohhhhhhhhh rip to my html, a christmas miracle that wasn't

[valkyriens]

[Ophelia doesn't jump to answer the summons, but she does move quickly. Even without praise, to be relied on even for something so small scratches a deep itch to be useful. It has nothing to do with the switch or its lingering brand on the back of her legs (though it does help. It really, really helps).]

Of course. [Her head bobs; there's a glitter of her own golden qilin scales in the firelight that shifts as she moves to stand behind the sofa.] Ma'am. [There's sincere deference in her voice, but it lilts up slightly at the end, an implicit question in it: Was that the right one to say?

Ophelia dresses well, and she's used some of her leisure time to better understand the fashion zeitgeist in Sumarlok especially, but she's always prioritized practicality over beauty. Little things, like the stars embroidered into her eyepatch, are indulgences. She has to ponder sincerely what would look nicest as she tenderly combs Lilias' hair into place. Painstakingly gentle, Ophelia sometimes runs her fingertip or knuckle along the scalp beneath the hair, gradually sectioning strands out before starting an orderly Dutch braid along the side of her head.]

It's been a while since we've last met, hasn't it? [The last time had been much messier - a bloody, magical adventure in the middle of an unforgiving wilderness. But the snow, it would seem, is the same regardless. It would be inappropriate to mention the new additions to her appearance, but at the very least - ] You look really striking tonight, ma'am. [She hasn't considered that she might be speaking out of turn; there have been no instructions indicating otherwise, but the correction would mortify her regardless.]

[demandsatisfaction]

[Doing her hair is a little more difficult with the horns currently springing from Lilias’s brow, but that’s why she wants Ophelia to do it instead of her—that, and because she wants to feel her fingers on her scalp. Lilias closes her eyes as Ophelia begins to comb and separate her hair, though her posture remains straight-backed. It’s been a long time since she had anyone else to do her hair for her; she hadn’t realized until just now how much she missed the sensation. When Ophelia speaks a second time, she replies without opening her eyes.]

You may address me as “my lady.”

[She says it firmly, but without any particular condemnation. After all, this is only the first time Lilias has instructed her on terms of address. As for the rest, she decides that the compliment is a welcome one. There is no one else present for her to speak with, so although she isn’t inclined to tend to Ophelia’s whims, she’s not remotely inclined to ignore her presence. If anything, she thinks she’d like to hear more.]

You think so, do you? [A hint of amused pleasure curves her lips.] How striking am I? Tell me.

[valkyriens]

[It isn't a chastisement, luckily, so any breath Ophelia was holding about disappointing. Nevertheless, the pressure to overachieve does leave her slightly cowed once the information is given. She can do better next time. The added stress just thrills her more. The horns do present unique challenges, especially for someone who's rarely touched anyone's hair but her own. In the absence of friends to share these little intimate gestures with, she could previously only imagine what it was like not just to be so close to someone, but invited.]

Of course I do! [Her hands readjust slightly to encourage the braid to lay neatly, grip tightening as she guides it neatly along behind her ear, trying to be as firm as possible to discourage any stray hairs. There are plenty of things about Lilias' outfit and makeup to admire, but it's the woman herself that she ends up fixing most of her attention on.] You have a very noble demeanor; regardless of the room you entered, all eyes would be on you immediately. You've chosen perfect jewelry for the occasion, but no one will be able to focus on that for long.

[She's beautiful in all ways, but it's her presence and demeanor that Ophelia keep coming back to. Sheepish, her voice trails off.]

Frankly, you're shining quite brilliantly. [Lilias likely won't understand the deeper, sincere meaning behind the compliment, though it's paid in earnest. Ophelia doesn't even need the lost power of her eye to see - or appreciate that radiance. She wouldn't normally speak so openly, and there's something strangely liberating about it - as embarrassing as this will be to reflect on come the end of the month, if only because she likes it more than she should.] Thank you for allowing me to help with this, my lady.

[demandsatisfaction]

It seems that tonight there is no one else to appreciate my brilliance. It’s just the two of us.

[The words are pretty, flattering in their own right, but what makes Lilias smile is the sincerity that bleeds through Ophelia’s compliments. Anyone can use pleasant turns of phrase to sweeten the mood, but the surety and lack of hesitation in the woman’s answer makes Lilias think that it isn’t just she who’s been gifted with the pleasure of this snowed-in little dream meeting. The pleasure of having Ophelia cater to her desires is one thing; the prospect of the woman’s desire to submit to her is heady in and of itself.

She wonders what Ophelia was thinking when she chose her outfit for the evening, whether she wanted to impress—or entice. The disappointing thing about having her do her hair like this is that Lilias can’t look at her while she does it. But she lets herself linger on the feeling of fingers carefully moving over her hair, working the braid along the side of her head. And she focuses on the cadence of Ophelia’s voice as she continues to speak, satisfaction warming her like a good, strong drink. She really has been so diligent, so dutiful. Good service deserves to be recognized.]

Is this all the privilege you might wish for? The chance to be of service to me.

[valkyriens]

A shame about the storm. We might have been able to have some company if it weren't for the snow.

[If the overall...everything of the various domesticity around them is anything to go by, the house has been made up to receive company. A party, perhaps, or at least some intimate gathering for a few people. The weather in the dream contrived to keep them here alone, but that shouldn't be anything to complain about. A shame about the storm, maybe, but she sounds content with what she has here. If only she could quite articulate how difficult it once was for her to accept these limitless, tenuous moments of quiet. Perhaps it's this small purpose, serving her will, that makes accepting that gap all the sweeter.]

Whatever you saw fit, it would be enough. [It's another statement made in earnest; even for Ophelia under different, less altered states of mind, her loyalty comes with few expectations of reciprocation. Lilias may not have walked through fire to pull her from the blaze, but that doesn't diminish the intensity of her sentiments now.]

... However, I'm not one to settle in my ambitions. [Ophelia isn't exactly winning any brat competitions any time soon, but she's getting better about letting the strength of her will shine through, about giving some voice to what she wants. Submissive or not, someone who fought with the energy of the woman she met in another dream probably doesn't mind a bit of a challenge.] I'm equally able to enjoy your company like this, right? [Under the pretense of gathering up the remaining hair at the end of the braid to pin it, she also brushes her knuckle along the nape of her neck. It's subtle enough to easily explain away, enough plausible deniability given her task, but her finger lingers just a little too long and traces the skin just a little too deliberately. She's blushing, being this bold, but luckily Lilias is faced away from her.] Would you care for a drink when I'm finished? I'd like to sit and share one with you, if it pleases you.

[demandsatisfaction]

[Lilias smirks a little at the deliberate stroke of Ophelia's fingers, subtly at odds with her rather demure replies. The way her hands move to brush against skin suggests that a drink isn't all she'd like, and despite Ophelia's claim that she isn't one to settle, to Lilias, she gives off the impression of one who is harbouring desires that she isn't quite ready to voice. But the evening is still young, yet. There will be plenty of time to see if she can coax a bit more out of her, and a drink is an excellent place to start.]

Hmmm.

[Lilias hums, pretending to consider the request as Ophelia finishes up with her braid. She waits until it's pinned in place before she makes her decision.]

Yes, I think I would like a drink. You may pour some for us, once you've finished your current task.

Oh—and fetch something light for us to eat, as well. Something sweet, I think.

[valkyriens]

Of course. I've been baking nearly all day; I'm certain I can find something to your liking.

[No wonder. In the waking world Ophelia has already been doing her share of baking. No wonder it's bled into the fantasies here. She must have done more baking over the past few weeks than she ever has since taking an interest in the art. A weakness, a failure to adhere to her goals...but she's been so content, keeping the oven warm as she finishes treats for parties and gifts. Thinking of sharing her accomplishments warms her, and she hums a few times, deep in her throat. She's fortunate that the black, lupine features that have characterized her previous few transformations are absent, replaced by the familiar golds and whites of the qilin - save the horns, at least, which appear to have shed for the winter. The wolf features so often betray her thoughts and feelings. At least the feathery lashing of her tail now might be easily explained away as more than excitement or happiness.]

I'm nearly finished here, my lady. [There's still a thinner group of loose strands remaining unbraided, closer to the shorn side of her head, that Ophelia gathers up now. These strands she works into a quicker, even tighter braid, which she brings up and around the larger one, both secured behind one of the devilish horns Lilias sports now.] That should do it. Now, with your leave...

[She has something she needs to fetch. Ophelia takes a certain pride in running things smoothly: Just because it's a household tonight doesn't make it any less important. She moves quickly, lightly, through the ambiguously laid out floor plan of this dream cabin before she can return balancing two glasses of sparkling wine and two thickly sliced pieces of tightly rolled bûche de Noël, one of each she offers over immediately. The sofa is small but still enough to seat the both of them if they were to squeeze in together, and though her imagination quickly runs off with the fancy, she knows the thought is an impetuous one.

She kneels instead, balancing her weight over her heels on the rug next to the couch. Tail still going.]