[Zephyr's request is met with a mysterious silence.
At first, nothing in their home appears amiss. The furniture is where it should be, there is no sign of forced entry, but the living room is empty. Dohalim is not where he said he would be, and the only hint as to his whereabouts is... a trail of discarded clothing leading towards their bathroom.
There are other small details something isn't quite 'right'. Lit candles on every surface. The distinct scent of honey and rosewater. Their empty bed strewn with rose petals, from a plant Dohalim keeps on their small terrace.
All is explained when the door to the bathroom creaks open, and the lord himself, glistening with rose-oil in the candlelight wearing little more than a wrap of white silk so sheer the fabric does little to hide the dark skin beneath it. If anything, it highlights every edge and curve of Dohalim's body.
One hand on the doorframe, the other on his (very) long bare leg outstretched in front of him, the Lord's eyes are lined for the gods, red curls perfectly arranged around his face. Which is tilted at just the right angle to show off the length of his bare neck and sharp line of his jaw.
How long has Dohalim spent crafting this perfect image for Zephyr's eyes to feast upon? All day, with a week or so of planning. There are few people trained in the art of mani-pedis in Copalli.]
Welcome home. Talking can come after. First, I intend to render you speechless.
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At first, nothing in their home appears amiss. The furniture is where it should be, there is no sign of forced entry, but the living room is empty. Dohalim is not where he said he would be, and the only hint as to his whereabouts is... a trail of discarded clothing leading towards their bathroom.
There are other small details something isn't quite 'right'. Lit candles on every surface. The distinct scent of honey and rosewater. Their empty bed strewn with rose petals, from a plant Dohalim keeps on their small terrace.
All is explained when the door to the bathroom creaks open, and the lord himself, glistening with rose-oil in the candlelight wearing little more than a wrap of white silk so sheer the fabric does little to hide the dark skin beneath it. If anything, it highlights every edge and curve of Dohalim's body.
One hand on the doorframe, the other on his (very) long bare leg outstretched in front of him, the Lord's eyes are lined for the gods, red curls perfectly arranged around his face. Which is tilted at just the right angle to show off the length of his bare neck and sharp line of his jaw.
How long has Dohalim spent crafting this perfect image for Zephyr's eyes to feast upon? All day, with a week or so of planning. There are few people trained in the art of mani-pedis in Copalli.]
Welcome home. Talking can come after. First, I intend to render you speechless.