Bouquet, for Femslash Bingo 2016 by Urloth

15th July - O37 Carnation: Fascination. Anaire/Earwen.

Set in Amber verse.

“It’s alright,” Anairë reminded her, “not unheard of for a rich noble to have a few on the side. Even Finwë had a few on the side at that fancy brothel we sent the children to to learn how to fuck. We can be each other’s.”

She was just so blasé about it. Not a damn euphemism to be found. Out with things that most people politely pretended not to know. Her lack of guilt was just so stunning. Was there a way to monetarise Anairë saying completely scandalous things? Eärwen would pay to hear her read out a list of local scandals with her nonchalance.

She just did not care. It was amazing.

Eärwen twined their fingers together and just nodded, noticing that there was a pale eyelash amongst the black of Anairë’s eyes. She wondered why that would be.

“I’m not going to get any prettier if you keep staring,” Anairë teased her, kissing her neck but Eärwen just tugged her head up again so she could keep looking at her.

She was so plain, Anairë, bordering on ugly. Such a thin, sharp face, thick brows so wide they almost met in the middle, prominent nose. Her mouth was too wide. It smiled too freely, even when she was in pain. She had not been a court beauty, she had not even been born of the court, and Eärwen had wondered if Arafinwë had knocked his head when he had come rushing in to tell her that Ñolofinwë was marrying the daughter of a prostitute and a crippled carpenter.

She had not bothered to put two and two together from Anairë’s teasing lettings, and course she’d rushed to Tirion to see this new spectacle, only to find it was someone who had captured her attention years ago. How far they had come from their first meeting on a unfinished bridge. The former chief engineer of Tirion’s engineer corps had once again ascended rank and status without anyone realising it until it was too late

Her lips were soft for once instead of cracked. She had been using the lip balm Eärwen had sent her. It was so soft to kiss now. Eärwen took her time till she was caught yawning against Anairë’s mouth who did nothing more but laugh.

“Go to sleep love,” Anairë kissed her cheek and rolled away, standing up, her shoulders below the line of the mattress. There was a click, then another, a grunt, and Anairë stood at the original height that Eärwen first met her, towering over her by a foot and a half. Anairë sighed, stretching with the thin long lines of old scarring pulling white against ochre-gold skin, and as she walked the elegant and complicated gears and weights of her lower legs clicked and the sound of their weight just was not the sound of the long elegant feet and shins Eärwen first met.

There was a bruise over her left elbow. Where had that come from?

“What are you thinking Eärwen?” Anairë looked down at her, steadying herself on the dresser as she redressed. Baies, breast-band, then an underdress covered up her sinewy form; erased small curves behind straight cloth lines. Stiff collar to her chin, her dress proper covered in a fractal pattern of red carnations, then her hose, boots, gloves.

Her boots had carnations tooled into the leather as well. Eärwen raised her eyebrows. How unlike Anairë to coordinate her day to day outfits. She’d only ever cared about her court outfits. Outside of court she usually resembled a mismatched scarecrow. Eärwen would have suspect a maid but Anairë had dismissed all her household staff, again, and was resisting all attempts by Nerdanel, Indis, and Eärwen to restock her contingent with people to actually take care of her.

What was going on that Anairë had put thought into her daily clothing?

“You are as fascinating as you were when I first met you,” Eärwen could see the young woman who had charmed her; frightened her; rough hands, rough clothing, so tall and wide shouldered for a woman, accent still stubbornly clinging to the very darkest and dirtiest streets of Tirion though she had been doing her best to train herself to speak like a lady.

That accent was returning after a long vacation, forcing refined court speech to co-share Anairë’s vocal cords, after the years of muteness trying to adjust to what had happened to her during the Kinslaying.

Anairë was remaking herself again. Eärwen was unable to look away, wondering what she would become this time.