19018/A Moment To Unwind

A Moment To Unwind
Date of Scene:	05 September 2024
Location:	Genoshan Embassy - 3rd / 4th Floor
Synopsis:	After hitting it off at a fundraising function, Queen Polaris and Princess Amethyst retire to the privacy of a room in the Genoshan Embassy to discuss sensitive matters and lay down the foundations for a deeper alliance between their nations. They more or less succeed.
Cast of Characters:	Lorna Dane, Amy Winston

---

Lorna Dane has posed:
She approached Lorna with a graceful smile, her steps light, yet purposeful. "Your dress," she began softly, her voice a touch intrigued, "it's beautiful. But there's something more to it, isn't there? A quiet pulse of power woven into its threads... How clever."

~*~*~

With a flash of pearl, she unknits her fingers from Amethyst's out at their sides in favor of laying her hand on her fellow noble's waist, rather than relinquish her gentle hold on the rose-- or worse still, spurn the hand that holds it there. Even though she's largely content to cede to the princess' seemingly inborne grace, she still elects to give a gentle push against that rose, a heeled foot slipping forward-- a careful, controlled dip, and an unspoken promise to support her newfound peer - and perhaps future friend? - in her plight, distant though it may be.

~*~*~

Her smile deepened, a touch of playfulness entering her expression. "Once the formalities are out of the way," she said, her voice laced with promise, "I'd love to take you up on your offer. A moment to unwind... just the two of us."

~*~*~

There's something more to Lorna's dress.

The impish tinge to her pre-dip smile all but screamed it, even as her tongue held fast; the soft and unyielding tension of its peerlessly smooth and light-catching surface, the buzzing hint of electricity coursing between its threads were all the evidence the Queen offered.

Because there were duties to tend to, and - more importantly - first dances to wind through. There's a proper order, a way things are done-- and that includes holding a thing or two back from the first brush, so as not to spill oneself all over every initial impression.

Also - and this is crucial - Amethyst is one-up on her several times over in terms of intriguing secrets held back for true privacy, so it was hard NOT to want to maintain a little bit of mystery for later.

Which is... now.

"... though it's 'my' room, it's more or less the same as all the others-- equity, and all," Lorna muses, leading the Princess of House Amethyst through one door among many on the fourth floor of the Embassy. After sharing a dance... or two, or three...

... it was time to face their duties. For Lorna, this meant more mingling; more tips; more hustling for better options for a generation of human debris from the conflict between evolutionary branches. More champagne.

"I'm just a little uneasy with the idea of just-- anyone lounging around on 'my' furniture, cooking in 'my' kitchen when I'm not there, you know?" With one arm around Amethyst's waist for guidance's sake and the other outstretched for idly gesturing in the darkness' sake, lightbulbs illuminate in a sweeping wave throughout the suite, accompanied by soft *klk!*s. "Nevermind 'my' bed," she remarks with a sideways glance and playful grin. Away from the ballroom, lubricated just so by the introduction of a couple more flutes to her system, there's room to loosen the royal facade.

The threshold splits. A couple steps lead down to a sitting area with contemporary furniture and soft, burgundy carpeting. There's a small bar off against one wall and a flatscreen mounted against another, facing a plush convertible sofa. Off to the left from the threshold, a door leads to the master bedroom, while the right runs into a short corridor terminating in a small, but well-equipped kitchen area.

"Obviously, since I'm here: feel free to make yourself at home," she says with a broad sweep of her free arm. "Get comfortable: I want to learn all I can about how the nation of Genosha might be of aid to the people of Nilaa."

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy's eyes, glittering with intrigue, traced the electricity that seemed to hum through the threads of Lorna's gown, almost as if the fabric itself were alive, pulsing with energy. The sensation wasn't unfamiliar-she'd worn more than her share of enchanted attire; but this, this was something more subtle. The Queen of Genosha was holding something back, playing a game of reveal and conceal. Amethyst couldn't help but admire the craft behind it.

With Lorna's arm wrapped lightly around her waist, Amy allowed herself to be guided through the embassy, the gentle glow of the camera flashes illuminating more than just the space-they were pulling back the layers of their earlier dances, the soft steps that had been more than steps, the quiet hum of unspoken thoughts shared in each subtle glance. And yet, there was still so much more beneath the surface, as with Lorna's gown, a puzzle piece yet to be turned over.

As they entered the suite, Amythest took in her surroundings with a thoughtful eye, her mind half on the plush comforts of the room and half still dancing through the hints Lorna had scattered. A soft laugh escaped her lips, low and teasing, as Lorna mentioned her discomfort with anyone using her bed.

"I think I can understand," Amy replied, her voice carrying that regal warmth, underlined with just the faintest touch of challenge. "There are some spaces that should remain... private. Sacred, even, until invited."

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the master bedroom door, then returned to Lorna with a smile that was both knowing and playful, as if the unspoken rules of their game were well understood. Amy could feel the subtle shift in atmosphere, the royal masks slipping ever so slightly, the tension of formality easing. And yet, there was always an undercurrent, wasn't there? A ripple of something unsaid, a thread of electricity that sparked in the air between them.

Lorna's casual invitation hung in the air, and Amy took a graceful step further into the room, fingers trailing along the smooth surface of the bar counter. She turned back to the Queen of Genosha, her violet eyes sparkling with the same playful light as before, but with a deeper current of thoughtfulness. "Make myself at home?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly. "I think we both know... there's a little more to that than meets the eye. But I'll take you at your word..."

She stepped closer, closing the space between them, her voice lowering just enough to turn the air between them into something more intimate, more charged.

"You want to know how Genosha might aid Nilaa?" she mused, her fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of Lorna's dress as she passed. "That all depends, doesn't it? On what we're willing to share... and what we keep just for ourselves." The words were soft but full of meaning, spoken with a smile that promised as much as it concealed.

Amythest turned then, her cape brushing softly against the carpet and across Lorna's hands, and seated herself gracefully on the edge of one of the contemporary couches, crossing her legs with the same fluidity she'd shown on the dance floor. "But I think we've both held enough cards close to our chests for one evening, haven't we?" she added, her eyes locking onto Lorna's with that unmistakable mix of royal charm and something far more personal. "Let's see what we can really learn from each other... no holding back. Her hands smooth the silk in her lap. We can even discuss the remarkable abilities of this cloth - a starting point of negotiation if there ever were one?"

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna's eyes are right there, waiting when Amy's make it back from the bedroom door. The challenge she issued is reflected; unspoken, even as it glimmers in emerald eyes:

    'There are some invitations that should remain held, until sought.'

In the wake of a lesser one - meaningful, sure, but eminently less portentous - a broad smile lingers. Another invitation, this one opening the way for Amy to draw what conclusions she likes, put the pieces together as she will--

"Nevermind royal etiquette: what sort of host would I be," she murmurs after the princess' trailing bait, low and warm and lilting, "if I offered anything less than utmost comfort to an honored guest--?"

And then the princess comes closer, as if calling a bluff. The air between them hums and crackles too powerfully to be ignored as delicate fingers graze one of the lacy, faintly floral sleeves sweeping down her arms.

The remote, knowing cast of her smile slips into something a little sharper, a bit more intimate-- grounded.

The tone of her voice as she murmurs, "I think you'll find Genosha to be every bit as generous an ally as her Queen," is less 'warm' than it's 'heated', ignited by the charged atmosphere.

"And her Queen to be every bit as open," whispers alongside a crooked finger grazing a short ways up the princess' mist-silk gown to brush across crystalline petals once again, "as her kingdom, when it comes to accepting new friends." Just as her finger skips from the rose, and the tip of her nail flicks against Amy's clavicle, the princess turns and treats her to a mist-silk kiss that leaves her hands tingling.

She's got no sensitivity to magic, or even any facility with it; power, however - at least, that which in some way or another links back to the fundamental force that courses through her - is another matter. The woman wearing the cape has the lionshare of her attention, but that ineffable current thrumming between them adds a touch of haste to the Queen's steps as she paces after her-- and detours towards the bar.

"More than enough," she agrees of cards held in reserve, circling around to fetch glasses and bottles. "If we're gonna be friends -- allies -- it's critical for us to let our hair down, if only here, in private--"

A chorus of soft, clattering metal briefly precedes a cascade of tumbling green curls falling out of having been pinned up, braided together, or otherwise bound in-- what was a lattice of platinum chains. Now, those chains just slither down her neck and shoulders until they eventually slough from her body, gathering themselves in neat piles along the bar top.

"-- where we're safe from any judgment but our own."

For a few silent seconds, Lorna fills tumblers with large, perfectly square cubes and a couple fingers of rich, deeply smoky Genoshan whisky. When she's done, one glass floats towards Amethyst's hand on an invisible pad of electromagnetic force; the other's cradled in Lorna's as she circles back around to lean back against the bar, crossing one arm beneath her breasts and propping the other atop it with her glass.

"It is," she then remarks, running her eyes over the mist-silk and tracking Amy's hands as they smooth across it, "a remarkable fabric. Exotic textiles - materials in general, but textiles in particular, given the wide range of Mutant anatomies out there - are a field we're always eager to explore. It's like touching air, but I can feel something more in it."

Amy Winston has posed:
Amethyst's eyes caught the reflection of Lorna's gaze, the challenge shimmering in those emerald depths, unspoken but impossible to miss. A silent invitation, one not yet fully offered, lingered between them, waiting for Amy to decide just how far to take it. She wasn't one to rush. No, teasing the tension, playing the game, it was far more enjoyable to let the moment simmer. But a hand does extend. There is plenty of room on the couch that Amythest has perched herself on, perhaps the Queen would appreciate her company. "I'm told my touch is soothing, if you wish me to rub the shoulders of a Queen that carries so much?"

Lorna's words, rich and inviting, echoed in the air between them. Utmost comfort? Amy's lips curled into a soft smile, catching the warmth, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.nd something sharper, beneath the Queen's tone. The playful spark had transformed, becoming something heated, more intimate. The touch of Lorna's finger tracing up her mist-silk gown, brushing crystalline petals, left a lingering charge in its wake, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all. soft shiver that the younger Princess shares with the Queen, letting Lorna know she may have a foothold. And when Lorna's nail flicked across her clavicle, Amy felt the faintest shimmer of magic hum through her, responding to the pulse of energy coursing between them. Her smile deepened, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.mused and intrigued all at once.

She watched as Lorna moved toward the bar, those striking green curls spilling free of their platinum chains, tumbling down like a cascade of freedom. Amy couldn't help but admire it all, how effortlessly Lorna shifted between her royal poise and this more personal, more grounded, more intinate presence. And yet, there was always a sense of control, of knowing exactly what she was offering and what she was withholding.

"Letting our hair down, hmm?" Amy mused, her voice a velvet purr, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.s the whisky floated toward her on that invisible pad of force. She accepted the glass with a light touch, the mist-silk of her gown brushing gently against her fingers as she brought it to her lips. A rich, smoky taste settled on her tongue, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.nd she let it linger before speaking again. "Well, I suppose there's no safer place for honesty than here, is there?" Her tone was light, but the look she gave Lorna hinted at something more. There was a game being played, but beneath it all, there was a question; how much was Lorna willing to reveal, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.nd how far was Amy willing to push?

Amethyst let her eyes roam over the room again, settling momentarily on the bedroom door before drifting back to Lorna. "As for this fabric-" she began, smoothing her hands along the mist-silk with deliberate grace, feeling the way it responded to her touch, how it whispered against her skin. "It's not just exotic. It's alive, in a way. Connected to me, like the magic of Nilaa itself."

As she speaks, she runs her hand over the silk of her dress, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.nd it shifts and changes beneath her touch. By the time the transformation is complete, she is in a soft lavender gown that is more suitable for the bed chamber that polite conversation. "Perhaps I should start with a history lesson, how a blonde girl came to learn she was a Isekai'd Princess of a Fantasy World. Or of the war that has driven me here - the second war after a group from Earth, many of which no longer remain, helped that Princess win her first war, but now she seeks help again because a threat has risen stronger than before. Or of the girl that is a bit lonely for company, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.nd is tired of her pedestal above and wants to be with someone that knows how she feels and wants to be treated? There are more truths than those - but it is a small starting point. And like your door, this silk is not shared lightly. It is earned."

She let the statement linger, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all. teasing edge to her voice as she took another sip from the glass. The bedroom remained unmentioned, but her gaze, ever so briefly, before offering the comfort of closeness once again on her little couch.

"I wonder. What else you might be able to feel besides the fabric," Amy added, her voice soft, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.lmost a whisper, as she leaned just a fraction closer, her breath brushing the space between them. But she didn't press further. Not yet. There was still plenty of mystery to tease out, after all.

Lorna Dane has posed:
Letting our hair down, hmm?

"So to speak," the Queen answers with a smirk as invisible waves ripple through her hair, tossing it just a bit.

"There's nobody here but us tonight, after all."

Nevermind the last embers of the party downstairs, the stragglers hanging off of each other and making liquid promises that'll evaporate in the sober morning.

Lorna takes a long sip from her glass. Past the rim, her eyes flick towards offered, empty space and linger too long, too obviously to be anything but wholly deliberate while Amy talks about her dress-- about the history behind it, of a people between worlds, lashed over and over again by war.

About how that fabric is part of her, practically; so much so as to be changed by her touch, her will.

Her wants, her needs.

She listens, intently, as the princess tells her surely: that miracle cloth, that ephemeral piece of Amy flowing down her body in softened, sheerer lavender is never offered lightly.

Soft crackling emanates from Lorna's glass as frozen faces are exposed to air. The ice cube clatters when she finally lowers her largely emptied tumbler, revealing a smile brimming with warmth and utterly devoid of politeness.

"Your honor me yet again, Princess-- now with your generosity, atop the rare and precious light of your presence."

Full, green-painted lips split to bare a peek of teeth, punctuating her tongue-in-cheek manners before she dips her head to concentrate on refilling her glass. "Your faith," she adds over sloshing liquor, "is to be commended. Rewarded, richly--"

Upon topping off the glass, she takes the tiniest of sips to keep the whisky safely below the rim before stepping-- gliding, practically-- towards Nilaa-occupied territory. Folding her legs beneath her, she climbs onto the cushion beside Amythyst; rather than show the other woman her back or offer up her shoulders in light of the princess' offer of relief, she drapes one arm along the back of the furniture so it's stretching past Amy's shoulders. She edges closer as she settles in, 'til freshly freed green locks bobbing past her forehead come within an inch or so of grazing the other woman's skin.

"Genosha is a nation looked on with equal measures of pity and caution, by most of the world," she quietly tells the princess. "Faith is a valuable commodity; alliances are as good as gold, in a world that would rather you broken and helpless than thriving..."

Abandoning her glass to another invisible pad of force, the Queen reaches for the lavender skirt, gathering a little of the hem between her fingers and letting it slip through them slowly with pursing lips.

"... so I don't take it lightly," she whispers, thumb running along the hem, "this opportunity to learn one another-- to experience a taste of something beyond what I thought possible--"

Rather than pull away when the last bit of mist-silk slides away, she drops the backs of her fingers near the hem and begins grazing upwards, brushing against Amy herself in the process, now and again.

"You said that it's connected to you," she softly wonders, flicking her eyes down the gown for just a beat.

"So you tell me: what else am I feeling, besides the fabric?"

Amy Winston has posed:
Amethyst felt the energy between them thicken, as palpable as the magic coursing through her veins. Lorna's gaze, steady and deliberate, seemed to strip away every layer of formality they'd maintained. The Queen's words weren't just an invitation, they invited Amythest's surrender, one that Amy found herself drawn into without hesitation. There was no more hiding behind the pretense of royal duties or diplomatic exchange; here, it was just them, and the charged air swirling between them. Her finger played along the bare flesh of Lorna's shoulders, feeling her softness, her strength, as the Princess bows down and her lips brushes across Lorna's neck in a light puff of heated breath.

Lorna's fingers played along the mist-silk hem of her gown, each touch sending a ripple through the fabric, but more so through Amethyst herself. The dress, more than mere clothing, responded to her magic and her desires-something that even now was beginning to slip into Lorna's hands. As her breath caught, Amy realized that this connection was no longer a dance of words but of something deeper, something they both understood without needing to say.

When Lorna spoke of Genosha, of the fragile alliances and the weight of a nation barely holding on under the gaze of a world that would rather see it crumble, Amy understood more than the Queen might have known. "Nilaa isn't so different," she mused. Her kingdom, too, had been lashed by war, torn apart by those who would seek to control its magic and bend it to their will. It was a realm caught between two worlds, just like Genosha, a place of beauty, but also of constant danger. She ruled with the knowledge that at any moment, peace could fracture. She saw the same burden in Lorna's eyes, the same weariness hidden behind the confident facade of a ruler.

"I understand what it means to hold faith in something others wish to break," Amethyst murmured, her voice soft yet resonant, the weight of her own responsibilities threading through her words. "Nilaa has known that same precarious balance. Faith, alliances-they're everything." Her violet eyes locked onto Lorna's, the shared understanding between them tightening like a string, vibrating with tension. "And like you, I don't take them lightly."

As Lorna's fingers continued to glide along the mist-silk, Amy felt the warmth of the Queen's touch seeping through the fabric. The gown was a part of her, connected to her very essence, and as Lorna's touch lingered, Amethyst felt the magic within her responding to it, growing stronger, more focused. Lorna was more than a simple ally; she was a kindred spirit, someone who understood the weight of a crown and the loneliness that came with it.

Her gaze flicked briefly down to where Lorna's hand lingered, brushing against her thigh, before she returned to those emerald eyes that seemed to see through everything she tried to hide. A slow smile curled at the edge of her lips as she leaned in just enough for her breath to ghost against Lorna's skin. "What you're feeling, Your Majesty," she whispered, her voice low and warm on Lorna's skin, "is me. My magic, my will, my kingdom... all bound together in this fabric, and all at your fingertips."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the quiet heat between them before continuing. "The mist-silk... it's part of who I am, connected to my very core. It responds to me, to my desires." A playful glint danced in her eyes as she added, "And right now, Lorna... it's responding to you."

Amethyst allowed herself a brief pause, her gaze trailing down Lorna's body, noticing the way her green hair shimmered in the soft light, the way her breath hitched slightly as her fingers brushed over the gown's hem. This wasn't just about diplomacy anymore, or even about two rulers forging an alliance. It was about something far more personal, far more intimate. It was about two women who understood the weight of power and who, for a moment, were willing to let it all fall away.

Her lips curved into a teasing smile as she caught Lorna's eyes again. "Tell me," she whispered, leaning in just enough for her voice to barely carry, "what else do you want to feel, Lorna?" The question hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in warmth, daring the Queen to take the next step, to cross the final boundary between them. Amethyst wasn't rushing, there was no need to. She was savoring every second, every lingering touch, waiting to see just how far Lorna would lead them into this new, uncharted territory. "For your aid, I lay my land bare in your hands."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Heated air pulls a soft hiss through Lorna's teeth. It sets her head rolling absently to make way; it tilts her half an inch closer and draws her arm away from its idle perch so her fingers can thread through the Princess' hair.

It means that when she remembers to tip her chin back down - to at least make a polite effort at eye contact while appearances continue to hang on by dwindling threads - she meets Amethyst's murmured ruminations on faith as the mortar for a delicate kingdom with fluttering lashes: there is a need to reset. Stabilize. Breathe, leaving her lips parted as a secret about mist-silk whispers against her skin.

"Then you feel divine, Princess," she purrs in reply, leaning just a little bit further so that her warm sentiment's teasing the tiny hairs covering Amy's ear. Grazing exploration evolves into leisurely caressing, playing mist-silk and her own fingers, both, against the Princess' thigh. "And Genosha is fortunate indeed to know the will of Nilaa lapping at her shores-- the strength of House Amethyst coursing over her hills-- the vital warmth of Princess Amethyst rolling through her..."

Tell me, whispers through the space Lorna left for luxuriating in newfound bonds and the undeniable heat catalyzing them-- and the silken touch of the Princess' hair cascading through her fingers, the softness of the woman herself, at once distinct and indistinguishable from the peerless fabric draping her--...

Lorna sits a little straighter; opens her eyes a little wider. She focuses through rapid blinks and cracks a faintly sheepish, wholly unremorseful grin; it's time for negotiations.

What does she want to feel?

With all the lush and inviting territory of House Amethyst before her, the Queen of Genosha only spares bare seconds for surveying before locking her gaze right back to vivid purple eyes.

"And in return," tickles the other woman's jaw as Lorna shifts her head and tracks her fingers upwards, teasing over Amy's stomach and sternum briefly before finally catching beneath the royal chin, "I promise that Nilaa will forever have a friend in Genosha, bound by ties strong enough to stretch between worlds..."

She doesn't so much finish as she gets tired of talking, for the moment. Amy asked her a crucial question, and it would be rude not to answer: thus, the tender graze of one set of royal lips against another.

"... and ever ready to provide aid and comfort in the lush warmth of her embrace," she then concludes, sealing the pact with a warm puff against the other woman's lips.