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[sunmon]

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[sunmon]

[ it would look good, making an appearance. and alina has a lot of catching up to do with looking like a respectable dominant. damn him. ]

Fine.
Clean yourself up first.

[morozova]

Do you want me in anything particular?

[sunmon]

There's a navy suit for you in the downstairs. And a yellow shirt.

[ he isn't the only petty and spiteful one. alina has been an apt pupil. ]

[morozova]

I'll be ready.

-> action

[sunmon]

[ when he gets home from the studio, the navy suit and gold shirt are gone. in their place, alina lounges in a blue recliner in a white dress, legs crossed beneath it. beside her is a black garment bag. ]

Change of plans. [ she gestures to the bag. ] You'll be wearing white. We all will.

[ this is about city compliance. there will be a time and a place to make him wear her color for a change, but it's not this. the sour expression suggests that she doesn't like that she has missed her chance for this. ]

[morozova]

( dark brows lift, attention shifting quickly to the bag. she must have picked it out herself, then. )

Why white? ( it's not a refusal, not really, but it is definitely curious. her expression suggests that the change of plans wasn't her doing, so either this has something to do with the celebration or she's dragging him to some function where there's a dress code.

his fingers slip to the buttons of his shirt, deciding that the specifics don't really matter. )

[sunmon]

Festival tra—

[ oh. he's. taking his shirt off right here. at first alina straightens, then thinks better of it and tries to somehow undo her startled reaction. to sink back into her seat. to blink away her surprise and pretend she had not averted her eyes for a moment.

she has lost her train of thought. ]

... It's festival tradition. We wouldn't want to insult any locals.

[morozova]

It's not really my colour.

( it's idly said. he's much too pale, as it is. the white will probably wash him out, make him seem even less human than he already does.

still: tradition is tradition. )

Though you do look ravishing. ( a sweeping look, taking her in from head to toe. )

Is there anything else I should know?

[sunmon]

[ she opens her mouth, not quite mustering response right away. once he has stripped off his shirt, she is left only to stare, a long-dead ember burning a little brighter in her chest, as if breathed back to life with careful fanning in the form of one simple compliment.

she shuts her mouth, swallows, and tries again. this is going to be a more difficult three months than she had realized. ]

Don't eat anything. We can order dinner later, but I won't have you losing control of yourself while we're out.

[morozova]

That would be unfortunate.

( especially given the form that loss of control generally takes at these sorts of gatherings.

he doesn't drop the shirt on the floor. rather, he sets the shirt carefully on a hanger and places that hanger back into his new closet. )

Though, again, it does lead one to question why they would have their festival colors be white. Given its tendency to stain.

[sunmon]

Tradition is seldom logical.

[ she studies him. the meticulous way he navigates the space. it's so different from jessica's manner, which had the haphazardness better suited to inn rooms and war tents. the darkling is controlling what little he can in a different way, but alina supposes it's ultimately the same habit. ]

We're going to dance. Watch a wrestling match. Make an offering to the gods. That's it. [ the things that people will be looking for good dominants and submissives to do. ]

[morozova]

( an incline of his head, acknowledging the point. )

Well said.

( he returns to the bed, plucks up the new shirt and shrugs it on. fingers going to the buttons, again. nodding along as she talks — though he does make a soft, amused noise at the mention of the wrestling match. that doesn't sound like her style at all. )

And will you be leading? ( a curl of amusement might've slipped through. )

[sunmon]

[ she pushes herself to her feet, leaving the armchair behind. ]

You should watch your tone.

[ she's already put on golden heels that give her a bit of a height gain, but it's not enough. she's too small beside him for her menace to mean much. even with that brand in the center of his chest. ]

[morozova]

( ah, he's struck a nerve. )

My apologies.

( his head dips, looking and sounding suitably chastened. then, his head tips, taking in the full effect of her outfit, heels and all.

one of the few advantages of this place, he thinks, is their tendency toward more revealing forms of fashion. )

I've just never seen you dance.

[sunmon]

You never asked.

[ of course not. he'd never needed to. she was easier to delude than all that, and he had not had any genuine interest in her. not then, anyway.

truth be told, alina hadn't done much dancing in her life. of any kind. she couldn't possibly lead on the floor of a ballroom. fortunately, ] It's community dancing. Like harvest festivals. Someone will teach us both the steps.

[morozova]

I'll have to fix that.

( not now, obviously, but sometime in the nebulous future. )

Believe it or not, but I've not been to a great many of those. Even before the war.

[sunmon]

You just join in with what other people are doing.

[ it feels like he's trying to wheedle pity out of her, some kind of sympathy that will make her underestimate him. the truth is, though, that she hasn't been to many either. a few carnivals had come through keramzin, and she had delighted in them, but in the way of a sickly child. watching others. never joining in herself.

she'd never known it was her grisha power stopping her. ]

[morozova]

Except eating.

( it's a tease, but the sort of tease that you have to know to look for. he won't be eating or drinking, given the choice, no matter how inviting it might look.

shirt buttoned, his fingers are already slipping down to his belt, plucking at the buckle idly. )

[sunmon]

[ the movement, the sound, both draw her eye. she finds herself considering the front of his trousers, knowing what's underneath. her mouth goes dry. she straightens her back. ]

Come find me when you're finished. [ despite her best efforts at authoritative, something about her voice just sounds small. it's made worse when she hastens for the door like he's preparing to let some kind of beast off its leash. ]

[morozova]

( surprise quickly gives way to acceptance. he nods, making no move to stop her departure — not because he's ever been particularly modest but her need to leave at this moment is already telling.

he dresses with his usual brisk efficiency. his old clothes are set aside carefully before he steps out of the room, his shirt open enough to expose the column of his throat and the collar that encloses it. )

Do I meet your satisfaction, printessa?

[sunmon]

[ alina looks up from junk mail on the counter when he comes downstairs to the middle floor's living space. the envelopes linger in her hand a moment as she drinks him in. he is too pale for the white. he looks like some foul spirit. and isn't he? he has haunted her well enough.

she drops the letters to the kitchen table. alina wills steel into her stride as she moves to him, reaching up to touch the collar around his throat, admiring the stamp of ownership of that tiny pendant sun. she had left a tie for him, but it doesn't matter that he had foregone it. the purpose was to reveal the collar, and if he'd done it to please her — well, it worked.

she withdraws her hand suddenly, as if burned by the gold piece. ]

It'll do. [ she clears her throat. ] Don't call me that. [ it only reminds her of nikolai and vasily's offers. rule ravka. they were as power-hungry as the darkling. even nikolai. especially nikolai. ]

[morozova]

( it had absolutely been done for her benefit. strange to think that he could ever find himself in a position where he almost welcomes the collar.

almost. )

What would you prefer?

( no endearments at all, obviously, but she's not getting away with that. for all her claims to the contrary, he doesn't think she wants him totally obedient. )

[sunmon]

You can call me what the rest of the Grisha do.

[ she arrives upon this after a moment of thought, lifting her chin stubbornly. ]

'Moya soverennyi.'

[ in case their discussion of tactics had given him any delusions as to whether she would treat him like an equal. ]

[morozova]

I see.

( rather than take offence, he's amused. for all that she has seemed so determined to distance herself from him and all that he represents, she's still styling herself in his image.

does she even realize?

but then he dips his head, decides to accept this like he has everything else she's set before him. if nothing else, humouring her will prove interesting. )

Very well, moya soverennyi.

[sunmon]

Come on. Quickly. I want to get this over with.

[ she doesn't relish his company. she moves quickly for the door, not touching him as she does but keeping her hands close to her sides. the white dress swishes behind her, long and draping and elegant in a way that alina is simply not. ]