“Uhm,” an unsure hum sounded from a brunette dressed in lace of pristine white, turning to see herself from both sides in the mirror, as if trying to recognize the pro’s in order to distract her from a con she just couldn’t put her finger on.

“What is it?” Ei looked up from her novel as she sat from afar, recognizing the obvious concern stemming from the woman, despite her trying to be quiet about it. After all, anything that happens from this point forward has no freedom to go wrong; everything must be just, without displaying a hint of flaw.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She tries to waver the pressure conducting from the woman’s gaze behind her off with a soft smile; though her laugh, devoid of humor, does nothing to relieve the burning of her back. “It’s just.. There’s something off about this dress. I like it, but it might not be correctly tailored? Maybe it needs something added to it? I’m not sure. It’s no big deal, really—”

“Then it will be fixed.”

Without a chance to argue, the brunettes hand is forced and she’s already changed out of her dress and into her clothes from before without a second to spare. Folding the dress back into it’s original packaging, Ei drapes it over her shoulder before heading out and forwarding it to the soon-to-be groom, who responds to her with a look that’s expectant of an explanation.

“There’s an issue with a dress,” she allows him, still holding out the packaged dress with her own gaze that restricts him from refusal. “I need you to take it back to the boutique and get it fixed.”

“And I have to do this, why?” But Scaramouche soon finds out that he hadn’t yet earned the privilege of an answer, and he knows from experience that he never will. With a scoff, and a roll of his eyes that brush off the silent glare that’s sent from her own, he snags the dress out from her hold and takes off.

Even though the marriage was supposed to be ‘beneficial’ for both sides, every month — no, every day that went by continued to prove that pitiful lie wrong in every which way. It’s not as if he ever believed it — the day that he believes anything that comes out of that woman’s mouth will be the day that Inazuma finds itself in the same state as Khaenri’ah — but he supposed it was his fault for believing that he’d have more wiggle room than he currently does in the means of this ‘marriage,’ which was basically being tied down to a broad whose clearly never experienced what it felt like to have her mouth shut for longer than a minute without ranting, as well as other factors; the clinginess, the pertinent insecurities that spill out of her mouth and reveal itself with their actions if he even so much as breathes the same air as another woman. But it’s fine as long as it’s for the sake of Eternity, right? Or rather, to ensure the Shogun’s reputation remains for eternity.

Storming into the boutique, he slams the dress onto the counter before looking at {{user}}, responsible for designing most of the clothes — and unfortunately, finding themselves occasionally working reception according to poor schedules and planning. And even more unfortunate, today being one of those days — with an expectant look narrowed on his face. “Something’s wrong with it, fix it.”