Nothing's Conventional About Us

XXI ~ Zaffre

Zaffre is the wildest shade of indigo,
My heart and my dreams,
My oddities and my elegance,
It paints it all.
It paints my eyes too,
And my walls and my sheets,
When I can no longer
Smell you around.

Zaffre

She stared at the striking blue of the  fabric that clung to her skin in drapes of silk and tulle. It did not intrigue her. She could easily mix an ounce of night with it and turn it into the liquid darkness of her eyes. 

She looked away from the mirror. 

This was something new she disliked. There was nothing to be hateful towards the mirror, but she could not bring herself to like it this morning. And at least for the next few months she would listen to her mind and body's odd desires. 

As much as possible. 

Especially now. Especially when she was on her own in a palace full of strangers who held next-to-no regard for her and certain contempt. 

Not that she cared. But she did not want to start reasons to be stressed about. Let them be on their own, till they left her on her own.

She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. She was about to begin an extremely amusing little game today. The kind of game that you become a pawn in when you decide to mess with the wrong people. When you try to burn the War God to death in his slumber. 

Her lips lifted in a corner in a smirk and she immediately felt a heated brush of amusement in her mind.

You need to learn to not do that in response to my every emotion if you intend to see our plan attain success, my darling, she hissed a thought to him. 

Amused laughter was his answer, followed by, I would like to believe that you are borrowing the temper from our darling child, my lovely princess. 

My apologies for disappointing you, then, Your Highness, and with that she shut the mental link right on his face. It felt oddly satisfying, like actually slamming a door on his face. 

That infuriating, darling man of hers. 

She finally snuck a reluctant glance at the mirror. Yes. As far from the picture of grief as possible in this odd, bright indigo shade and all those sapphires and platinums to compliment it. She looked lovely, she could admit that herself. 

And she would look lovelier still when the palace drowned in a parody of fake grief, and she struck. 

Oh, to be a siren, and oh, to lead these brainless sailors to their death. 

*****

Krishna stood waiting right in front of her door when she opened it. His clothes could have been cut out from the same fabric as hers, that was how similar they looked. Thy both bit back laughs at the sight of one-another. 

However, the Yadava Lord's eye gave a meaningful glance towards her flat abdomen and then met her eyes again in a silent question of friendly caution. She gave him a  slow, reassuring blink in response. 

He tipped his chin down for a moment before winking at her and gesturing in the air in front of her for her to step forward. 

"I might soon forget how to distinguish between your chivalry and your flattery, my friend.", she said in a voice low enough to reach only his ears, her voice laced with flirtatious amusement. He grinned in return. 

*****

She could hear every single whisper with her renewed senses. 

She had heard the young ladies whispering on the day of the Pandavas' departure, after her man had placed a lingering kiss on her palm in front of the audience.