The Taisho fire

Inukimi

It's been a while, and I apologise. My life is, as usual, pretty hectic. I hope you like this rendition of Sesshomaru's mother, I had a lot of fun writing this. She is the only one that can actually fluster her son.

Dinner shall suffice.

Sure. But that was one hell of a dinner !

Tōga stared blankly at the display of seafood before him, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cutlery that littered the table. Fine wine, both white and red, was available; one gesture, and the waiters standing at the corner of the room would fill his glass with the most expensive beverage he'd ever tasted.

Waiters... at the shiro. Both Tōga and Gwen had been asked to dress up for the occasion, surprised to stay within the confines of the property. But instead of sitting down at the breakfast table, they'd been led to another part of the estate overlooking the lake. Better than any high-end restaurant, the setting was stunning. His former mate, standing by the pond, equally so as she stood next to her son. It was one thing to remember her pale skin, long silky hair and refined features. Another to gaze upon her ethereal elegance and grace once more, the crescent moon on her forehead a statement of her power.

The house of the moon, once more, condescended to walk the earth to greets its mortal creatures. Namely, Gwen and now, Tōga. A strange sensation swirled in his guts, the uneasy tug of someone who was way out of his depth, who should have known more, been more. What was expected of him now ? It was only by the grace of Gwen's little hand squeezing his arm that Tōga remembered who he was, now.

The reincarnation of a former general who had been, already, a tad inadequate with etiquette. At his debuts, at least, until his mate drilled manners of the court into his head, and followers created a circle of support around him to ensure the Top Dog remained thus. A thousand years had been enough to shape his charm into a killer weapon at court.

Tōga's hands reached for Gwen at the crook of his elbow, and he caught those keen grey eyes watching him. Awe painted her features, not for Kimi, for him. The former general grinned, grounded by the sheer adoration that reflected in those stormy depths. Gwen did not expect him to be anyone other than himself, a man with some strange quirks that she accommodated without fear. Reassured, Tōga's gaze returned to the table laid out to accommodate four seats.

Dinner indeed ! He should have expected it; Inukimi always loved the finer things in life. Even in his past life, he'd been tremendously less refined than the princess of the skies. How her affections had stirred to him had baffled him at the time, but below the fine layer of her evening dress, Tōga knew that Kimi was feral in more ways than one.

Greetings were exchanged, cold words with hidden warmth, formalities that seemed so out of place for such an extraordinary reunion. As they sat, waiters filled up their glass, and dinner started eerily. The conversation revolved around his new life. The former general kept his smiling façade, by the coils of his mind ran fast.

He feared, more than anything, what his former spouse would ask of him. If he was now a man of the 20th century, Sesshōmaru's mother was still the daiyōkai born in the past millennia. For the moment, Kimi's golden eyes were appraising Gwen. To her credit, his little lady conversed with the thousand-year-old demoness with the ease of someone who knew formality. He shuddered to think how such a dinner would have gone had Gwen not been so thorough in her studies of feudal Japan.

"There are perks to modernity," Kimi chattered, her manners so alike Sesshōmaru, but her voice filled with mirth. "Once you've lived a millennium without central heating and proper insulation, you'll find that the occident brings many comforts."

"I can understand that."

"Do you, really ? Computers existed when you were born already, mm ?"

Her tone was light, her golden eyes intense and playful. Like a great cat playing with a mouse, Inukimi kept her conversation 'in between ladies', keeping him at bay with subtlety. Testing the mettle of his future wife. Butting in would be rude, at this point, and even Sesshōmaru's silence was more subdued than his usual 'hnn'. On edge, Tōga struggled with a pair of tongs and a nasty langoustine that refused to be pried open.