A Glamorous Garden

The very tip of Beryl’s finger glances across a soft leaf, delicately lifting one of the many pink and violet petalled flowers sprouting from this handsomely trimmed hedge. “These look ta be growin’ quite well, despite the colder climate up ‘ere.” She idly comments, glancing towards the girl guiding her through these gardens. “Just ‘ow did ya lot manage tha’?”

That young maid nervously shifts her weight from side to side. “Uh... I –”

“Ach, right. Sorry.” A slow, and slightly disappointed, sigh passes through the Wood Elf’s lips. “Ya’re not one o’ the gardeners...”

“Maybe we’ll find one somewhere in this maze?” A faint bit of boredom can be heard in the barbarian’s voice, her emerald eyes trailing across these trimmed shrubs. The various plants in here do look nice, there is really no denying that, but they’re all kind of blending together in her mind. One fancy bush is pretty much the same as the next, one colourful flower is pretty much the same as another.

“Surprised we ‘aven’t already.” Beryl’s brow knits together, just by a bit. “A garden o’ this size would need quite a few people tendin’ ta it...”

The corner of Krvavy’s lips curls upwards. “They must be avoiding us.” She not so seriously states, some life returning to her. “And that is probably for the best too. They wouldn’t be able to get their work done with you burying them in questions~.”

Beryl pays back that bit of teasing by lightly elbowing her Draconic lover in the side. “Ach, if anythin’ it’d be the other way around.” She scoffs, smiling a little smugly.

“Oh~?” Krvavy quirks her brow, gaze glimmering with amusement. “Feeling arrogant, are you~?”

“My dearest love,” an exaggerated sigh accompanies those loving words, making them sound almost condescending. “Ah am a Wood Elf. A stewardess o’ nature, a daughter o’ the forest.”

The Drakling’s black-scaled fingers dance with her sweet berry’s more dexterous digits. “And that makes you more of an expert than some Human professionals~?” She cheekily asks, all but forgetting about the increasingly embarrassed maid who has been made to witness this shameless flirting.

“Aye, o’ course.” Going by just her tone alone, someone might think that Beryl was being completely serious right now. But her hardly hidden grin shows that she is just joking around. For the most part, at least.

“Is that so~?” A mischievous twinkle enters those emerald eyes, meeting their equal in a bright blue-green pair. “Then how come your garden isn’t as nice as this one~?”

“Tsk, tsk.” This tanned tomboy of an Elf simply clicks her tongue, pointy ears wiggling and waggling as she tries to keep a relatively straight face. “It takes time fer a seedlin’ ta grow inta a tree. Ya are comparin’ a new sprout ta a forest. Which is ‘ardly fair.”

Sunlight gleams off of Krvavy’s sharp and carnivorous teeth, a wide and teasing grin spreading across her face. She reaches over and grabs onto Beryl’s other hand, thumb brushing against a caramel coloured wrist before slowly sliding back, those fingers hooking onto each other. “Now that just sounds like an excuse to me~.”

Beryl slowly shakes her head, chin-length strands of bark-brown hair swaying with those soft motions. “Ach, it’s like explainin’ somethin’ ta a rock...”

“Oh, I’m a rock now, am I~?” Krvavy looms over her Elf, leaning in to such a degree that their noses nearly touch. “Do you usually sleep with rocks then~?”

“Aye, or ‘ave ya forgotten about Inanna~?” This tomboy’s slightly smug smile drops the ‘slightly’, her eyes shining so bright that they may as well be casting light. “But even if ya don’t want ta count ‘er... we do live in a cave, remember~. Plenty o’ rocks in there~.”

The Drakling stifles an amused snort. With hardly a thought, her fingers slip away from those of this Elf, facing no resistance as they cross the short distance towards Beryl’s body. Nothing but a blue-green sundress stands in Krvavy’s way as she gently grabs hold of her lithe lover’s hips, helping that tomboy rise onto the tips of her toes.

Their lips meet a mere moment later, fluttering hearts beating as one.

“I’m glad to see that you are enjoying the gardens~.” A melodic voice dances through the air, underlined by a lively and barely held back laugh.

It takes a couple more seconds for Krvavy to end her kiss, reluctantly separating from her sweet berry’s even sweeter lips. She calmly glances back over her shoulder, looking at the two figures approaching along the ornate garden pathway.

Rina elegantly waves towards those lovers, a warm smile filling her face. A pair of moon-like pearls dangle from each of her ears, swaying with each graceful step she takes, heels clicking just beneath the silver-trimmed hem of her undoubtedly expensive dress. She is the picture of aristocratic authority. Beautiful, elegant, adorned with a few purple gems... one on her forehead, another so close to her cleavage. And yet, she still looks so approachable and friendly.

Which cannot be said about the albino maid by her side.

Pale pink eyes glower behind a pair of glasses, the white brow above them furrowed with a mix of annoyance and anger. Vera’s gloved hand tenses, tightening its grip on the black lace parasol held above her head. Shade surrounds the albino, shrouding her in darkness, but hardly reaches Rina.

While neither Drakling nor Wood Elf seem surprised by the Countess’ sudden appearance, that is unfortunately not the case for the young maid by their side. Lynda nearly jumps in place, quickly clutching her skirt as she goes to curtsy. “M-my La–aaAH!”

A pair of spectral hands suddenly manifest in the air, their glowing purple fingers gently grabbing onto the clumsy maid’s shoulders.

“It is alright, Lynda.” Rina reassures her flustered servant. Once the girl is steadied, the Countess dismisses the magically summoned hands with a simple gesture. “It will take some time, but you will get used to your new legs. So do not stress over the occasional tumble.”

A red hue fills the young maid’s embarrassed face, growing just a bit more intense as she turns to look down at the ground. “Th-thank you, my Lady...”

Rina’s warm gaze shifts towards the two guests in her garden. “Apologies for making you wait on me. I hope that you have enjoyed the scenery in the meantime.”

“This whole place is quite beautiful,” Krvavy honestly replies. A sudden urge wells up within her... and she immediately succumbs to it. “Though someone,” her lips twist into a mischievous smile as she gently nudges her Wood Elf in the side, “had some different thoughts~.”

“Ach, throwin’ me ta the wolves, are ya?” Beryl narrows her eyes, glaring up at the Drakling that she calls her dearest love.

“Why, I would never~.”

The tanned tomboy just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, smiling widely as she does so. “It is good ta finally put a face ta yer name, Lady... Alexandrina.” She politely curtsies, graceful despite being quite a bit out of her element. “Ah’m Beryl. It is a pleasure ta meet ya.”

“The pleasure is mine.” The half-Elf noblewoman returns an elegant nod, her amethyst eyes meeting Beryl’s blue-green. “And please, call me Rina. I am sure that Krvavy has told you enough personal details about myself to afford you that level of intimacy.”

“She ‘as and she ‘asn’t.” Beryl playfully shrugs back. “Krvavy isn’t always the best wit’ descriptions. Fer instance, Ah didn’t think tha’ ya’d be quite so... Elf-ish. Ah’m almost ‘avin’ a ‘ard time believin’ tha’ ya’re only ‘alf an Elf just by lookin’ at ya.”

“Oh?” Rina raises a single delicate eyebrow. “Is that so?” Almost as if a little self-conscious, she brushes aside a long lock of her raven-black hair. “What gives you that impression?”

“Yer ears, mostly. They’re a bit longer than Ah’d expect from an ‘alf. Not quite the length o’ a full-blooded Elf though, see?” Beryl wiggles her own pointed pair, gesturing vaguely at them with her left hand. “Maybe closer ta two-thirds? Or three-quarters?”

That delicate eyebrow remains arched as it is, inquisitive and interested. “Have you met many Half Elves then? Or Moon Elves, even?”

“Not many, no. And never a Moon. They don’t come ta the woods all tha’ often.” The tanned tomboy easily answers this curious Countess’ question. “Tha’ said...” She pauses for hardly more than a second, her perceptive gaze giving that noblewoman another look over. “Yer skin is also much more vibrant than Ah expected. Ah thought it’d be pink in the way tha’ ‘umans can be. Soft and rosy, ya know? So tha’ is another thing tha’ makes ya look less like an ‘alf...”

“Interesting...” Rina idly replies, before audibly exhaling, earrings jingling quietly as she softly shakes her head. “Apologies, my curiosity got the better of me. Have the two of you eaten yet?”

“Not since lunch.” Krvavy answers, stomach rumbling at just the thought of being filled with food.

The pink-skinned half-Elf nods and turns her gaze towards the young maid, who still looks rather embarrassed to have nearly fallen over in her presence. “Lynda, I will be having dinner with these two guests on the lily terrace. Please inform Izolda of my decision, and then take a well earned break.”

“Yes, my Lady!” The clumsy maid quickly curtsies, just barely staying on her feet, before carefully hurrying off.

“Come,” Rina warmly orders. The silver-trimmed hem of her darkly coloured dress hovers over the paving stones as she walks along the path, passing by Beryl and the barbarian.

That albino maid closely follows behind her Countess, all while glaring at the Drakling through the glasses resting atop her dainty nose. The shade cast by her black parasol covers her completely, adding to her menacing aura.

“I understand that Krvavy was just teasing you,” the Countess speaks in a friendly and welcoming tone, her attention focused on Beryl. “But I would still like to hear your thoughts on these gardens.”

The Wood Elf lightly bites her bottom lip as she falls into thought. Idly, she grabs onto Krvavy’s hand, their fingers interlocking once more. “This garden is amazin’ fer wha’ it is.” That diplomatic reply comes after a few long seconds.

Rina glances back over her bare shoulder, a single delicate eyebrow raised. “How so?” The pink-skinned half-Elf sounds, and looks, genuinely curious and not even remotely insulted as she awaits a more detailed explanation.

Beryl trails her gaze alongside the decorated pathway, taking in the sights of this manicured garden. “It is too orderly. Beautiful, aye, but clearly arranged fer tha’ sole reason.” Her free hand reaches towards a nearby bush, outstretched fingers gently brushing across that soft and leafy shrub. “The occupants o’ this garden aren’t sufferin’ from tha’ decision, but they aren’t thrivin’ either. They are stagnant, ‘eld captive in their little plots. Those whose ‘ealth would benefit from bein’ grouped are instead placed apart, paired wit’ others fer appearances sake alone. Those who could stand ta grow are kept from reachin’ their full potential, instead ‘avin’ their natural beauty trimmed away and replaced wit’ pleasingly tidy shapes.”

A thoughtful look fills the Countess’ half turned face. “And I presume there is little to be done about that?”

“Aye.” The Wood Elf simply nods. “Nothin’ short o’ diggin’ up and movin’ around near everythin’ would ‘elp, but many o’ these delicate lives would be lost in the process. And while it is natures course fer the weak ta be culled so those more fit ta survive can thrive, this place isn’t in natures domain. The rules need not apply. This garden serves its purpose, so let it continue ta do so.”

“Getting a bit philosophical now, are you~?” Krvavy teasingly asks, giving Beryl’s hand a light squeeze as she draws her Elf’s attention. “Or are you just trying to live up to some plant-loving stereotype~?”

“Bein’ out and about ‘as gotten me thinkin’, ya know tha’.” The tanned tomboy’s lips twist into a slight smirk as she meets her Draconic lover’s emerald eyes. “Besides, Ah ‘ave got ta show the Countess ‘ere tha’ at least one o’ us ‘as somethin’ goin’ on in our ‘eads~.”

“I have plenty of things going on in here,” Krvavy taps her temple, effortlessly maintaining a mock serious tone. “Thank you very much.”

“Oh, is tha’ so?” Beryl clasps onto the barbarian’s hand with both of her own, smug smile shifting into some poor attempt at looking innocent. “And just ‘ow many o’ those ‘things’ are appropriate fer a civilized conversation wit’ a refined noblewoman, my dearest love~?”

A playfully predatory grin meets that tomboy’s teasing. “Depends on just who our audience is~.”

“Ahh... So none o’ them.” Beryl slowly sighs, giving the hand she is so lovingly holding a tight but brief squeeze.

The albino maid’s scowl only deepens as she is forced to listen to that playful conversation. Vera’s pink eyes glare from within the shadow cast by her parasol, remaining locked on the two guests that she appears to legitimately detest.

In stark contrast to her maid, Rina seems to only grow happier as the two lovers banter in front of her. The Countess’ smile may be a little subdued as she maintains her regal composure, but that doesn’t make it any less genuine.

The Drakling scoffs, channelling her beautiful brat as she exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you are any better.”

The Wood Elf woman quirks her brow, that thin line of bark-brown hair arching so wonderfully as she meets Krvavy’s teasing gaze. “My dearest love,” she plainly begins, “Ah was just talkin’ about the ‘ealth o’ this garden. Ya couldn’t’ve forgotten tha’ already, so are ya tryin’ ta prove me right about wha’ sort o’ things ya ‘ave goin’ on up there~?”

Each beat of the barbarian’s heart sends waves of warmth flowing through her body. She hardly even cares that Beryl is technically insulting her, playfully implying that she is nothing more than a sex addicted idiot. That is just about the most accurate insult to ever be levelled her way, after all~.

“Nothin’ ta say ta tha’~?” An incredibly smug smile spreads across this sweet berry’s face, her long and knife-like ears wiggling with joy... only to suddenly twitch upwards, going completely still. The very tips of those pointed things flush the same rich, rosy hue that is quickly filling Beryl’s caramel coloured cheeks, that blush burning bright as her barbaric lover’s pale lips press into her forehead.

As tempting as it is for Krvavy to drag that kiss out, or to escalate it into something better... She is forced to cut it short, gaze turning towards their destination.

Just a short distance away, the paved path that they are following opens up into a small square courtyard. Beautiful beds of lilies backed by trimmed hedges border three quarters of this cozy clearing, surrounding it with walls of lively green covered in splashes of pink. An ornate railing stands at the one edge of the courtyard not penned in by a hedge, separating this terrace from the calm pond that it overlooks. A single fountain resides in the middle of that body of water, gently raining onto a number of water lilies and circular pads.

Beryl tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to act casual and not at all flustered. “Not the most original name fer this place.”

A warm light glimmers across the Countess’ amethyst eyes, more vibrant than the purple gems of her jewellery. “Would you believe me if I said that this terrace was named after a girl called ‘Lily’?” She almost idly asks, her painted lips curling upwards at their corners.

The unfriendly, scowling maid wordlessly steps away from her Lady and these guests, bringing the shade of her parasol with her. Those pale pink eyes of hers narrow into a brief glare, directed both at Beryl and the barbarian, as she pulls a cloth from a pouch on her apron. Vera heads over to the terraces edge, where a table with a large umbrella skewered through its center rests against the railing. Without letting the two guests leave her sight, she begins dutifully wiping down the surface of that table, and then the seats around it.

The Wood Elf considers her answer for just a couple seconds. “Tha’ is somethin’ Ah tha’ could believe...” She trails off while glancing around at the various flowers, most of which are white or shades of pink. “But,” Beryl’s gaze returns to the Countess, “Ah ‘ave a feelin’ tha’ isn’t the case.”

Rina slowly nods her head. “You would be right. It is simply a descriptive name. And not one that I came up with either, so I do not mind if you feel the need to mock its lack of originality~.”

“I think it’s a good enough name.” Krvavy idly shrugs. “Not fancy, sure, but not bad either.”

“Ach, ya aren’t one ta judge tha’, my dearest love.” Beryl playfully rolls her eyes. “Ya call our ‘ome ‘the cave’ or ‘the grotto’. If we ‘ad a place like this, then ya’d call it ‘lily terrace’ too.”

“It isn’t easy coming up with good names, alright?” The Drakling defensively replies, only slightly exaggerating her reaction.

“Always excuses wit’ ya~...” A long sigh escapes past this Elf’s parted lips, that exasperated noise made teasing by the genuine smile dancing across her face.

Vera continues to scowl as she places some fancy cushions onto the seats, having just retrieved them from a small shed set into one of the beautifully trimmed hedges surrounding this private courtyard.

“Come, come. Let us sit and relax.” Rina’s amethyst eyes fill with warmth as she turns to her grumpy maid, her gaze alone enough to add a pink hue to that apparent albino’s pale cheeks. “Thank you, dear.” The Countess’ voice drips with affection as her personal maid pulls a chair out for her.

Vera struggles to keep an angry expression on her face, having to focus her attention towards the Drakling to even slightly maintain her antagonistic aura.

Krvavy completely ignores that glare, occupied with trying to not look awkward while lowering herself into one of the seats. She does not do a good job at that. Not only does her thick tail want to be in the same space as the backrest, but the chair itself is a bit small for her. Both in its height and in its actual size.

“Apologies,” a slight bit of guilt enters the Countess voice, as if she were to blame for that. “These chairs are not built for a woman of your stature. Or of your race.” The pink-skinned half-Elf glances back over her shoulder, looking to the maid standing behind her. “Ve–”

“Ach,” Beryl cuts the Countess off, crossing her arms as she remains standing by Krvavy’s side. “My dearest love is used ta sittin’ on rocks. But if ya are goin’ ta make a fuss about this seat, then why don’t Ah show off by growin’ ‘er a better one?”

Rina raises an eyebrow, her attention returning to that tanned tomboy. “The two of you are my guests, so I should see to it that you are comfortable. That said...” A curious gleam fills her alluring eyes, growing by the second. “It would be rude of me to turn down that offer, as you could solve this issue much faster than I.”

“Bein’ coy, aye~?” The Wood Elf woman teases, her lips spreading into a smug smile once more. “Don’t want ta openly admit just ‘ow interested ya are in seein’ a true daughter o’ the forest do ‘er work~? Well, no matter~. Watch and be awed~!”

Those words have hardly passed through Beryl’s lips before green sprouts begin to reach out from the nearest hedge, twisting together and moving through the air like a snake slithering through sand. The vine touches this Elf’s outstretched hand, caressing her caramel skin and the leafy bracelet around her wrist as it continues on down towards the ground, its tip splitting as it begins to form a frame.

The braided vine withers at its origin, shrinking into nothing and separating from the hedge, while its other end swells with life, growing thicker as the chair comes into shape. Vibrant green darkens to a rich brown as the plant matter hardens into solid wood. Gentle arcs dominate the increasingly grand visage of this chair, branches intertwined with sturdy trunks in a show of natures beauty and splendour.

Knots appear on the otherwise smooth bark, a lively bud bulging from the center of each one. Some buds spread out into leafy fans, others bloom into rosy flowers whose exquisite elegance puts the lilies around this terrace to shame. A carpet of soft moss spreads across the seat and backrest just as the final remnants of the vines pull away from Beryl’s hand.

“Tada~!” The tanned tomboy exaggeratedly gestures towards the imposing tree of a chair, grinning widely all the while.

Rina’s inquisitive gaze trails up and down the Wood Elf’s work, taking in every little detail. “Impressive,” she slowly exhales, her voice filled with genuine awe. “You have such fine control over the ebb and flow of your mana...”

“Aww, no need ta compliment lil’ ol’ me~.” Beryl’s humble words are completely undermined by how pridefully she is holding herself, preening underneath that praise. “This is just a chair fer my dearest love. And speakin’ o’,” she turns her smug gaze towards the Drakling, “sit, sit~! Go on, ‘ave a seat~!”

Krvavy lets herself get pulled over and then pushed towards the freshly grown chair. Her thick tail easily slips through the arched hole beneath the padded backrest as she pulls the heavy thing up against the table, entering the shade being cast by the large umbrella. “Did you need to make it look so much like a throne...?”

Beryl’s blue-green eyes twinkle playfully as she ignores that sighed question. Without any hesitation, she wraps an arm around Krvavy’s shoulders and all but jumps into her Draconic lover’s lap.

“Rea–” the barbarian briefly pauses as she receives a quick kiss on her cheek “–lly...?”

As before, that complaint goes completely ignored.

“So, now tha’ we’re all seated...” Beryl nuzzles into the barbarian’s body, treating her lover’s pale breasts as little more than a pillow, making herself more than comfortable atop this throne of her own.

The albino maid grows tense as that shameless Elf’s still rather smug gaze turns towards her Lady.