ιѕαвєℓα (rivaini) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-04-14 09:36:00 |
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Maker’s buttcrack, and by the grace of Andraste’s freedom-flavored nipples, what was someone even supposed to wear when they eloped? Isabela didn’t know - she’d been through a wedding once before, something tied to her mother’s Hindu religion that pulled out all the silks, all the bells and whistles, all the rituals, all the cows. But that was different, and she aimed to get as far away from that as possible. Vegas was a way to do it. In a flashy way. Bela had been researching the very best chapels and hotels to stay in once they were done tying the knot - the best part was, the marriage licence in Vegas was an easy thing, no wait time or blood test needed. Which seemed helpful - who knew what would show up on that, from her scruffy mage. He’d probably be recruited for real-life Hogwarts if people knew the truth. She was wearing something from her dreamscape today, in fact, the black corset that she favoured after she and Hawke became an item - her outfit in general was darker - and with that she had on a pair of tight leather pants, the crimson scarf that she usually wore as an armband wrapped ‘round an updo and spilling down the back of her neck, over one shoulder. There was a mission on her agenda - find shoes. Good shoes, for their impromptu Vegas wedding - the more extravagant, and the more hypodermic, the better. She didn’t often sport hooker heels, but now seemed a good occasion to do so. Walking into Shoegasm, and past the display of glass slippers in the window, she adjusted her handbag over her arm and kept ginger-coloured eyes peeled for her favourite redhead to come and assist the customer. No one else would Bela trust to help her pick out weapons - or, ah, shoes. Right, those. Wedding shoes. Ah, Shoegasm. Cindy-lou’s project passed into her hands. It became Leliana’s too, not that there was nothing ever to fix about this place - it’d always been run seamlessly, and she learned to take the reigns on her own quick. Perhaps arrange things to her liking (she was very anal retentive about shoe organization), but she dove in headfirst and rolled with operations from there. It flourished, as always - March, April and May were always prime wedding season, so the focus for these months was to cater towards wedding parties. Brides, bridesmaids, grooms and groomsmen. Even the itty-bitty shoes for the ring bearers and flower girls. They were so precious. But there was tasteful diversity, from traditional to simple, from vintage to more sleek and modern styles. There was always something for everyone, assuming their tastes weren’t nauseatingly atrocious. It was hard to say what truly was her calling: shoes or assassinations. Sometimes it really depended on her mood. There came the little ding when someone entered, the sound of the bell, and from around the corner of a rack (that particular section was more of the animal-inspired footwear, from zebra print to peacock feathered heels) came one formerly sinister hand of the Divine. It was a casual sleeveless dress she wore, something violet with lace trim, nude wedges, and the polished tags around her neck - she wore that with every outfit, the sentimental fool. “Halt, fiend,” Leliana greeted, hands on her hips. “There are no booties for you to loot here but mine.” Oooh, so cheeky! Isabela laughed, stepping further in and adjusting the spillage of tits from the cups of the corset top - her infamous staple, but at least she had on something to cover her bum this time. Which wasn’t always the case in Kirkwall. Whatever, she thought she looked nice - to hell with anyone who disagreed. Aveline would probably call her gutter trash, which was a way of expressing affection - anyone else got stabbed right through the eye. “Hmm, tempting,” purred the Queen of the Eastern Seas, the Sharpest Blade in Llomerryn (monikers well earned, and she’d be glad to show you why). “I thought you might be able to help me with shoes first though? I do believe I’ve come to the right place for them.” There was no better mecca for footwear than a store with -gasm dirtily attached to the end. You couldn’t convince her otherwise. “And how’ve you been, love? Last time I saw you it was for dark and depressing things.” Leandra’s funeral, for one. But the Hawke family was doing better - day by day, that’s how they took it. They were survivors though, so they’d make their way. Leliana was going to get a feel of that cleavage, in the most platonic way possible no doubt - mainly by bringing Bela in for an embrace, a bit of breast on breast action there for the both of them. It wasn’t often she got suprise visits, and she adored surprise presents. Pleasant ones, that is. “I’m well, thank you - and you look much better. Less dreary.” Yes, she even captured her face between her hands for a proper lookover. Isabela’s eyes were less puffy (Leandra’s funeral was nothing less than emotional, it was a wreck how things ended), there was an odd sparkle in them. Maker, she wasn’t pregnant, was she? “And I’ve love to help you with shoes, you know you came to the right person. What’s the occasion?” A night out around town, perhaps? Something summery? Breast-on-breast action was always appreciated. A shame Hawke wasn’t here to see it, but Bela would be sure to tell him all about it later! While reveling in her shoe purchases (yes, multiple, because the unspoken rule was that you walked in here and got hypnotized into buying more than one pair). “Oh, you know...” She grinned a bit, bright-eyed, certainly not so morose. Many tears had been shed for Leandra, for the family in general, at the loss - but there were good things to look forward to, and Leandra would have been delighted by them (the marriage itself, less so much the Vegas and elopement part). “I proposed, sort of?” she explained sheepishly. “In bed, because where else would I! But we’re planning to go to Vegas - just a quick thing, nothing churchey. Then we’ll come back and open the Hanged Man!” But spontaneous elopement first, which she clearly needed shoes for. What in Andraste’s-- No, no, Leliana would not refer to some crude part of the Maker’s Bride in any way despite the immense bomb that Bela dropped, all with that dopey sort of lucky-in-love expression. For a split second she was tempted to ask if it was a prank (Bela wasn’t above being a little trickster sometimes), but… The sound, so high-pitched it could almost shatter all of the boutique’s display windows, was certainly not human. “Congratulations! Are you - is he - when is this happening, and you’re seriously here for wedding shoes??” Well, even if it was in Vegas she still needed to look rather stylish, no doubt would she make sure the pirate walked out with the perfect shoes for her occasion. Hell, Leliana would buy them for her. Or gift it for free, code it under ‘promotional item’ when it came to finances or something. She ran the place, who cared! Balls, was that a nug whistle or something? Isabela’s ears were ringing! Still, she was going to assume that her redheaded friend was happy for her. “I seriously am here for - “ Gulp, swallow, say the actual word, “...wedding shoes. We haven’t picked a date to drive over yet - I’m looking for a chapel in Vegas that’s pet friendly, so he can bring Dog and let him slobber on everything.” There were a few options though - she really wanted the Mabari to be the Flower Girl, even if he was a boy. But he’d look so adorable. She wasn’t one for guests, really, since the point of elopement was to do this all quick and dirty but they’d be sure to take pictures of the happenings. Then throw a glorious party when they were back in Orange County - perhaps at the Hanged Man, for its grand opening. Things would line up so very nicely. How exciting. Leliana was visibly enthralled, but wanted a little more details aside from ‘I proposed in bed’ (which was, oddly enough, to be expected). Leading her over the bridal section of the store, with its white and lace and ivory, she had Bela take a seat with her on one of the benches. It was a slow period right now and they had time to properly chat. “The word relationship always gave you a shudder with a hint of rash, my friend, how did you progress from that to taking this next major step?” Nightingale was pleased that it did - Isabela had always been a little more resistant when it came to commitment, heavily guarded. Wanting to protect herself and others because she was convinced she was equivalent to the foul human excretions that couldn’t be flushed in porta-pottis. “Was it a dream thing? Did you two finally dream of the Arishok?” That was a tell renown among the Freemarches, even Ferelden. It was how Hawke had become the Champion, and no doubt would any storyteller leave out Isabela’s role in the entire debacle. Personally, this redhead thought it was utterly romantic. What a way to literally fight for someone you loved, no? All this white, it was something that might give Isabela hives all on its own (because she certainly didn’t expect to be near any portion of the lighter side of the colour wheel, when it came to her Vegas elopement outfit - virgin she certainly was not, nor was she a traditionalist) but she managed to settle on the bench with relative ease. Hopefully Leliana would help her find something more shimmery. Bela definitely desired sparkly shoes. “It was partly because of the dreams,” she admitted. “We dreamed of the Arishok at the same time and he woke up all beaten. So while I soothed his bruises with a bag of frozen veg, I brought up the marriage thing. Because, you know...” How did she get to that point? Felt like a long and arduous journey at times, but she’d been ready and that was the most important thing. In addition to the decision being her choice. “That, plus Leandra. It just showed me that life is short. Everything’s going to hell in Kirkwall, even after he killed that horny zealot, but here it’s...I want to have that here. What we probably won’t get there.” Marriage wasn’t exactly a thing for love in Thedas, not all of the time. Mostly for political alliances or convenience - Hawke’s mother and father had been the exception, but really, Isabela didn’t know many who married for love. If a couple was together awhile, and genuinely in love, they usually never even bothered. Her past love even made the mistake of proposing to her, so she ran - but maybe Isabela just needed to be the one doing the asking. She was stubborn like that. Isabela’s points were valid, and true. With how things catapulted in Thedas there wasn’t a lot of time for those involved in the thick of things. Her relationship with the Warden had been strained, but ongoing despite the events - even after the events of Corypheus and the Breach, the Chantry frowned upon the freshly elected Divine in a relationship but she was quick to land a swift backhand on silencing those voices. And from what she knew about the Champion and his pirate queen (eyes and ears everywhere, throughout the country), marriage hadn’t been in their cards. A togetherness remained, yes, but no one exactly had the luxury of settling down for a happily ever after just yet. Taking the chance to do all that couldn’t be done here was wise. “I’m so proud of you,” Leliana chuckled, clasping her friend’s hand into her own for a squeeze. “You’re doing this your own way and your own pace, and that is exactly what you should do. As long as you two are happy, no? Who cares how you want to do the entire ordeal.” The hand squeeze was returned - and, hell, Bela was feeling particularly sentimental. She added another hug and more of that breast-to-breast action while they say here on the bench. How heartwarming! “We are, we’re happy, despite everything,” she said, and fuck, Thedas was just awful - no other place would you turn a corner to find frozen, rotting bodies or monsters in the same vicinity, literal bloody camps and creatures that would suck your soul from your body. It was also shit no matter where you were in terms of social class, in every country - but being on the lower rungs of society anywhere sort of meant it was one-hundred times worse. No wonder her and Hawke didn’t marry there. No opportunity, what with the constant idiots trying to end the world and all those crises. “He’s just glad he gets to bring Dog along,” she laughed. “Well! Help me pick out some fabulous shoes, then? I’ve no idea what colour my dress will be, just definitely not white.” “Of course, wouldn’t a wedding without a man’s best friend,” Leliana mused, all smiles. After all that tragedy thanks to the cruelty of the dreams, they could definitely use a dose of happy. Bela being the one to propose the idea herself made it that much more impressive - it meant she was serious about all this, and Hawke was the one. No one else could match her crude level of cheekiness but the beacon of the mage revolution. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to throw Bela some kind of surprise lingerie party? Something bachelorette-like. More corsets for that impressive chest, and sexy shoes! And penis candy, delicious penis candy. But, yes, the shoes. Hmm. Anything traditional was out, obviously. “If your dress isn’t white your shoes could always be, it’s a color that goes with everything,” Nightingale hummed thoughtfully, looking at the selection. Obviously the entire store was at her mercy, not just the bridal section. “Something classy, that also screams ‘I’ll make you come so hard you’ll cry while wearing these’?” Such words, with that delectable French accent too. But this was also the Lay Sister that participated in group sex in Thedas, so it wasn’t too surprising. And Isabela was there for that group sex too! What a wonderful threesome that had been, her and the Warden all rolling around for a romp. She rather liked making the Nightingale sing - what a pretty voice the former bard had too. But anyway, let’s not get sidetracked. “If they can be associated with orgasms, all the better,” she stated cheerfully - never one to really censor her thoughts, Isabela could appreciate the fine nuances of dirty humour. “Cheeky shoes though,” she added, standing to go peruse the aisles of the ‘bridal’ section a bit. “The strappy kind. Maybe peep-toe, but definitely with a heel that could gouge an eye out. Just in case things get nasty.” Well. It was Vegas. You never could tell, could you? Heels that could gouge an eye out! How perfect. Described about just about most of her own personal shoe collection, to be frank. These roguish ladies thought alike. “You know we’re of no shortage of those,” smirked the bird-boned redhead, letting her fingers pass through a row of footwear. “Texture? Something silky, something lacy, something…” Sparkly, perhaps? Rough to the touch but caught the eye, which was fitting for a woman whose priority was to often loot anything that wasn’t moving. Good thing Leliana had things organized the way they were - there was an entire row of shiny heels, then subcategorized by the inch of heel. Short to tall in a seamless transition. “Whatever you pick, Isabela, I’ll happily cover. No ifs or buts, understood?” “Oh, alright,” Isabela sighed, as if it was such a hardship to let a friend buy her shoes - really, she was flattered, even if it wasn’t necessary. A sweet gesture, though! She was very appreciative. And she did enjoy the oodles and oodles of glittery options - Maker’s breath, the quips she would get from Lady Man Hands if she wore these shoes out. It was enough to make the pirate positively giddy. “I suppose that’s fair enough, love.” Her honeycomb eyes fell upon a pair that were white on the upper portion, a thin bit of trim, the shoes decorated with what looked to be Swarovski crystals - but considering the price, they were probably just rhinestones. Louboutin’s adorned with actual crystals went for about three grand; that was a bit much, for a gift. These beauties were perfect though - the heels were also high and thin, about four-and-a-half inches. Lovely. “Look at these, aren’t they beautiful?” She picked them up to get a better look, watching the crystals catch the light. Might as well wield that selection as a dagger, no? It enforced the opinion that it was perfect, though it’d be put to the test once Bela actually tried them. “Go on, I think they’re in your size?” If not she could eagerly rummage through the back storage room - which was also meticulously arranged, a project she convinced Gale to stay late and help her with (that included proper payment against a pile of boxes, too). Price wouldn’t be an issue, even if she had to dish out some personal funds for it. Leliana liked weddings, and didn’t think to skim around when it came to her friends. If Bela wasn’t going to have something like a bridal shower, or anything extravagant that involved spending some heavy money (like most weddings did!), she’d at least have excellent shoes, damnit. “Ohhhh, you can do a catwalk for me in them. I’ll pretend I’m Hawke.” That’s when she draped a curtain of copper hair around her face like it was a beard. Isabela just started laughing. Oh, Leliana, she was such a goofball sometimes - when the moments were more lighthearted, that is. Otherwise she could be a deadly drop of poison in your sugared-and-creamy breakfast tea. “That’s actually very authentic,” the pirate grinned. “Alright, here...” She just had a good aura about those shoes - they were only priced in the hundreds, as opposed to thousands, so she wouldn’t feel a smidge of guilt about accepting them (sometimes she had feelings and concern for others, sometimes). But they seemed to be in her size so she slipped them on instead of her heeled boots and had a look. Naturally, they made her quite a bit taller - and Isabela was no shortie to begin with. Then she pranced on the make-believe catwalk for a few steps. “What do you think? They look powerful, don’t they?” “They make your legs look like they could snap spines,” Leliana whistled, offering her nod of approval. Not to mention it’d be remarkably painful if Bela ever had to step on someone with them, too. It’s potential for the something dangerous made it so appealing, because who knew what could happen in Vegas - hot messes seemed like it followed the two eloping troublemakers. “I imagine you can use them at any time too, aside from your own wedding.” See? A good investment! “Doesn’t hurt to be a little spoiled on your big day. Weddings are all about the bride and groom getting spoiled to even out the stress, so I’ll make sure you get spoiled in some regard. At least with these.” The box that held the shoes was reached for, so she could package it up for the bride-to-be once she felt ready to remove them. Snapping spines and stepping on faces - the requirements for any good pair of shoes. “It’s true, they sort of go with anything, I think,” Isabela hummed, getting a better view in one of the mirrors hanging up in the store. The rhinestones were very versatile, which she liked - so they really were a good investment, these puppies. “I’ll definitely take them! And since we haven’t really got any wedding-related stress, just fun, that works out nicely,” she added as she gracefully hopped out of her new weapons and gave them to Leliana to be put back into the box. Maker, no, no wedding stress - otherwise Bela would break out in hives for real. “I’m looking forward to the honeymoon, above all else.” Neither of them had been to Vegas, and it was prime for a weekend or so of nothing but getting drunk and fucking and cheating at the card games in the casinos (they’d splurge a little and earn quite the haul, thanks to Isabela’s rogue skills). To the register, then, for proper processing! There wasn’t much of an actual transaction. Leliana had to process a couple things in the computer for inventory purposes, list the ‘buy’ under a certain code for accounting purposes, that sort of thing. “Please refrain from getting arrested, putting yourself in monumental debt or breaking something so important you end up on the national news.” The two of them had been at the core of Kirkwall crumbling down to ash all around them, who knows what sort of shenanigans they’d somehow find themselves here. And she’d been briefed about the Deep Roads story, too, all that spider-fighting and so forth - of course it’d be them going down there, fornicating on the treasure and then bringing it to the surface. “But there you go, all yours. You’ll let me know when you’re leaving? I can always check on the houses for you two, unless the twins are doing that.” “We haven’t asked them yet, but I wouldn’t want to put them out or anything,” she said, following to the register. Here’s where Isabela would whip out her credit card (or wads of cash, depending - sometimes she earned a lot of tips during a night of bartending at the Rear End) but the transaction, such as it was, already had been taken care of. What sexy shoes she just found! She took the handles of the bag, once her sparkly beauties were all wrapped up and packed away. “So I suppose if you wouldn’t mind, things could use a quick look-over? Though we really won’t be gone too long, whenever we get our bums there.” Nothing wrong with an in-and-out type of thing, followed by loads of debauchery. It was their pace, their style - and Bela was content with everything being like that. “When the time comes around, let me know what you need and I’ll take care of it, hm?” Leliana leaned against the register counter, chin propped up by her knuckles, a gleeful sort of mischief in her eyes. “You two can worry less about your homes falling into a blackhole of destruction. Roll around in the bed sheets without a care in the world. Enjoy the moment.” Tradition thrown to the wind, it could still be a special, sort of intimate thing between two people - it was announcing the intent of a lifelong commitment. Something everyone knew Bela was never fond of, but things changed when you met the right person. People changed, too, and this one was a good change. |