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[rhymingteelookatme]

In Abundance, Ch. 4: Sweetest Fool

For sensory prompt no. 33 from the list here: the feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade. :} Thanks yet again to @eremiss for beta reading!

Words: 1979 

-

Gogoha takes several seconds too long to realize that she is not touching ground at all. Instead, she finds herself seated in the most exquisite of chairs, consisting of two long arms upholstered in finely embroidered indigo sleeves: Livorette has neatly caught her in the midst of their descent. Which also means she is in the perfect position to look dazedly into her wife’s (my wife’s!) softly smiling face.

“Hi,” Livorette murmurs.

“H… hi,” Gogoha manages to reply.

Then Sélysette and Monsieur Farouche are there, clasping both brides from either side; next moment, Liv kneels to deliver Gogo into the embrace of her own mother and father, who clutch their daughter tight before pulling their new daughter-in-law down for her share of parental affection. Next a small staircase is whisked in from somewhere, allowing Gogoha’s ascent to the altar table that she might be of a height to receive further congratulatory gestures. The Fortemps family, including the younger one’s manservant, each bow over her hand and Livorette’s in turn. So too do Francel and Laniaitte de Haillenarte, whom Gogo only recognizes by Liv’s greeting. 

Alisaie contrives to be first of the Scions to reach the newlyweds, but then seems to run out of initiative when they turn to face her; only when Liv reaches out does she allow herself to be pulled into a one-armed hug. Urianger offers a bow so deep that Gogo fears he might fall over, while Y’shtola favors them both with her warmest smile. From that point everything seems to blur together- all smiles and handshakes and countless variations on the theme- until the blessed sound of a ringing bell signals the well-wishers  to fall back. Somehow Claribel has rescued the bouquet; she hands it back to Gogoha and retreats with smooth efficiency as the recessional music begins. Applause and cheers fall like rain as the brides retrace their steps.

The Sanctum doors swing open ahead of them, first to the foyer, then to the veranda. Cool breezes swirl into Gogo’s face, lifting her veil out behind her. She tallies each new detail of the approaching view. The yellow glow of lamps along the stone walkway. The massive white chocobo waiting on the landing with its handlers, its feathers gleaming. A glimpse of sky through the trees, its rosy blush giving way to purple dusk. 

“Nearly there,” Liv murmurs, her voice aglow with anticipation.

“Nearly,” Gogo repeats. She feels the sudden desire to throw decorum to the winds and simply run full-tilt ahead. If only these lovely silk skirts weren’t quite so long. If only there were an aethernet link directly to their rooms…

At which point Liv glances down with a most mischievous glint in her eye. “You know… I am strongly tempted to simply scoop you up and carry you off.”

“And I’m strongly tempted to let you.”

“Is that a hint, wife of mine?”

Anything to be alone with you at last. Gogo bites her lip. “…Yes it is.”

Liv’s face lights with a wild grin. “As my lilybell commands.”

She sweeps Gogoha off the ground and into her arms, spins around, and then sets off as if voidsent are nipping at her heels. Her long legs eat up the remaining distance in the twinkling of an eye, making the waiting chocobo flap and shuffle in place with a startled kweh.

“Have a care, miss,” scolds one of the handlers. “If this had been anyone but our Cloudmallow, you might have had a kick to the chest that’d tear you up but good.”

“Beg pardon,” Liv pants, breathless but still grinning. “Bit carried away.” She backs up a pace or two to let the bird settle back down until the handlers indicate it is safe to approach. Then she lifts Gogo into the saddle with great care, swings up behind her with a flourish of leg, and… there they sit.

Gogoha’s confusion is quickly followed by suspicion. She cranes around to look behind her. “Livorette. Light of my life. Dhalmel of my heart. Why, pray tell, are we not leaving?”

“Have patience but a moment or two longer,” Liv answers. “Our guests deserve the full effect of our grand exit. Also, my darling, are you terribly attached to this bouquet?”

Gogo frowns. “I’m not, but…”

“Excellent.” In the next minute, the more energetic attendees join them on the landing.

“Friends!” Liv calls to them. “Family! Assorted fine folk! We love you all dearly, but we cannot stay—any longer tonight, that is,” she adds over the subsequent noises of protest. “The ceremony is done, we’re well and truly wed, and so we bid you all good night til it be morrow!”

So saying, she plucks the bouquet from Gogo’s hand and hurls it overhead into the throng. There is, naturally, an immediate scramble over it. Livorette laughs loud and long from her chest, slaps her thigh, and off they ride into the deepening night, the first night of summer… and of the rest of their lives.

-

The wedding chocobo proves as good as his handler’s word. He carries his passengers swiftly and smoothly out of the Sanctum’s grand gates, straight through the East Shroud, and back to the ferry dock in what seems a matter of moments. Liv swings down from the saddle and helps Gogoha to alight, then consigns the bird to the care of a nearby Twin Adder soldier. 

By mutual impulse, they teleport straight to the aetheryte plaza mere moments after stepping off the boat. Side by side they walk down the slope to the Roost, and thence back to the bridal suite. In their absence it has been made all spic-and-span, festooned with flowers and draped in white. Sély’s things have been removed; she is to join their father in his rooms for tonight, Gogoha remembers her—sister-in-law, now—saying the day before. They will have all the privacy they might desire.

But is it private, really, if everyone knows what they’re up to…?

Nope. No. None of that, Gogoha scolds herself. Thankfully she is not given further time to get tangled up in her thoughts; Livorette stops only to turn on the hall light before scooping Gogo into her arms once more and kissing her soundly.

They proceed all the way to the bedroom like that, scarcely breathing between kisses. Liv is obliged to open the door with her elbow, and kick it shut after them. When they reach the bed she breaks off to whisper, “Brace yourself,” before dropping to sit on the petal-strewn covers.

Things might have gone on in that same headlong vein, except that the brides soon realize they have no idea how to safely remove Gogoha from her wedding dress. While the silver brooch at the neck proves easy enough to undo, there is not so much as a telltale seam below that point. Both Livorette and Gogo are thoroughly puzzled until a chance fumble reveals hidden hook-and-eye clasps amid the lace at the back of the neck, leading to a subsequent line of minuscule black-silk-clad buttons that run from mid-shoulder down to the small of Gogo’s back. For a further complication, they lie near flush against the gown.

“I must say,” Livorette murmurs, fidgeting open each button in turn, “I deeply regret not having been in the room when you were being helped into this thing.”

“Tataru did insist it was the simplest operation on earth.” Gogoha rolls her eyes.

“That’s because Tataru is a seamstress to be reckoned with- there we go,” Liv interrupts herself, with satisfaction. “Tricky bastard, that one. Two more to go—there, and… there. All complete. And we didn’t even have to cut you out of it.”

Gogoha exhales a laugh as she slips her arms out of the sleeves, one at a time. “We wouldn’t have. Not if we wanted to live to see our honeymoon.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Liv muses. She traces a cool hand up Gogoha’s newly bare back, making her shiver. “It might have been worth it. I can think of far worse ways to die.”

With the bodice thus loosened, Gogo hides her burning face by slipping to the floor and lifting the dress off over her head. She wishes it were as cool inside as it is outside. There is a lot of skirt, with far too warm a lining. When she emerges, Liv emits the softest of gasps.

“What?” Gogo looks herself over. Strapless camise, short lacy underskirt, tall snow-white stockings with pale blue ribbons round the tops, and matching snow-white boots with tiny blue bows at the heels. “It’s nothing I haven’t been wearing all afternoon.”

Livorette swallows hard. “Have I mentioned I deeply regret not being in the room when you first put this on? Because I do. Truly, truly I do.”

Gogoha’s face flames hotter than ever. “I’m sure,” she mutters. Then, more firmly- “Now if you’re quite done regretting, it looks to me like you’re overdressed.”

Instantly Liv stands up, steps out of her sandals, and slips the quan off her hips, allowing it to crumple round her feet. “Better?” she inquires, breathless.

A half-smile twists up one side of Gogoha’s mouth, though her cheeks still burn. “There’s still room for improvement.”

Before she has half finished speaking, Liv reaches back and tugs her long sash loose. Well, looser. Several subsequent tugs are necessary to undo it completely, whereupon it flutters to the floor like a cut banner. Its erstwhile wearer follows, sinking to one knee as the yukata falls open around her. “And how now, my love?”

How now indeed. Livorette’s skin looks more golden than ever against the yukata’s vivid indigo dye; her camise is revealed to be naught but a network of lace, woven in a pattern of- yes- tiny butterflies, each one no bigger than Gogoha’s thumbnail. Her smalls are as yet hidden, but Gogoha will not be surprised if they match. The wedding band sparkles on her finger as she presses her left hand to her heart, just as she had done in the ceremony—Gogoha finds her breath catching in her throat.

“That,” she starts, only for her voice to skew high and crack. “That’s better, yeah.”

Liv bows low over her raised knee, sweeping her other hand out to the side. Looking up, she breathes: “I am, may I say, at your service. Now and forever.”

At which point Gogoha’s last shred of reserve dies, and she lunges forward to claim her wife’s lips with her own.

–

Later. Gogoha is roused from her doze by the light touch of fingers on her shoulder blade, lovingly tracing the lines of her back under the covers.

“Ah,” Livorette whispers when Gogo rolls over to face her, eyes still heavy with sleep. “She wakes. Joy of my heart, she wakes.” 

The lamps are off, and the fire is banked down to embers. Moonlight glows through the high windows over the head of their bed, dappling the ceiling with soft silhouettes of the foliage just outside. And Gogoha is too happily tired to be flustered at... whatever time this is.

“Have you slept at all?” she whispers back.

Liv gives her a little smile. “It would take an enchantment to make me close my eyes, when I share a flowery bed for the first time with my wife. To whom-” she catches a yawn behind her teeth- “I have just been married…”

Gogoha scoots forward and kisses her as firmly as her drowse will allow. “Is that enchantment enough for you?”  

“I…” Liv blinks slowly in the dark. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She kisses her again, lingering this time. “Now close your eyes, my sweetest fool, and wake not til dawn hath well risen.”

Only when Livorette has followed the first part of this command does Gogoha do the same. She thinks she hears Liv whisper something, but it is lost as she drifts off once more.