SKELETON KEY • heart pirates

TRAVELING DRESS

This is meant to take place sometime in the future in Chimayoi's timeline but can be read as a standalone -- for those following the main story, all plot-relevant details have been left out to avoid spoilers.   

I'm still not sure if this scene will even be included in the main story, as it is written in a more experimental style. It may be re-written, abridged, or only be referenced, which is why I am posting it as a "supplemental" oneshot for now.  If you have any thoughts, please let me know.

Also, please heed the warning below -- this one is rather graphic *hides*

Pairing(s) - Law/Arisa.

Warning(s) - Smut (Explicit), angst.

──────────────────

 The couple arrived by train in the early afternoon. They emerged from the mezzanine to join the flow of lively street traffic – throngs of passerby bustling industriously about, forming pulsing rifts to let through the occasional cart or buggy – and proceeded towards the Plaza Hotel by foot.

Nobody paid them any heed as they hastened down that busy central avenue save a handful of ambitious street callers, whose advances went totally ignored. The couple was dressed inconspicuously in the old-fashioned sensibilities typical to the merchant class at Novolais Island. The young woman was outfitted smartly in a dove grey traveling suit, the long skirt swishing at the tops of her leather boots with every stride. Her pale face was small and feline-like, the high cheekbones framed delicately with wisps of silver hair allowed to escape her updo. A pair of wireframe glasses hung on her nose, round and oversized, the shaded lenses obscuring much of her eyes.

The man accompanying her was tall and taciturn, the stormy expression he kept trained above his starched collar betraying a sullen irascibility. He wore a dark houndstooth suit and a matching narrow-brimmed hat shoved low over his head – perhaps done strategically to conceal the glint of his gold earrings. One gloved hand bore a large leather traveling case at his side.

They walked together with purpose, exchanging few words as they forded their way through that crowded maze of sidewalks and intersections. The woman rested her hand delicately in the crook of the man's arm as they came up the lane of their destination, steering them both clear of the carriages and crowd of jabbering guests hanging around the porte-cochere.

The Novolais Plaza Hotel was built on a riverfront, an opulent property rising above a sprawling lawn and its fortress of decorative iron fencing, fronting a facade of gleaming, whitewashed stucco. Yet such a picturesque view only seemed to have a douring effect on at least one of the pair. The man deepened his scowl, lowering his chin as they passed the pristine white pilasters. His companion hurried to match his strides as he wordlessly marched up the steps.

They went up to the counter together. The man hung back with their bag as the woman rang the bell for a clerk. He seemed more affronted than impressed by the lavish interior – shifting his weight frequently with his eyes glued to the colorful mosaic tiles, as if he couldn't be bothered to spare his surroundings even a cursory glance. The soft Tone Dial music playing in the background did little if anything to ease his rigid posture.

"Your IDs, please," the receptionist droned, and the young woman turned to motion the man closer.

Novolais was primarily a trade island under the World Government's protection. Isolated from the seven main routes through Paradise and within spitting distance of the Tarai Current, it was considered only accessible through an Eternal Pose for most travelers. Its proximity to the old Navy Headquarters was the final word in security, with the last known pirate raid dating back decades. As a result, the place was a regular hive for commerce and a popular tourist destination to boot. Still, as a Government affiliate, the local authorities were painstakingly fastidious when it came to surveillance and order.