𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 | GRISHAVERSE OC FIC

𝟏𝟏

Dionne slipped out of her clothes and bathed herself, scrubbing herself free of all the Ketterdam muck that had seeped into her pores. Then, she tied herself up in a pillowy bathrobe and perused the closet again.

It didn't take her long to find a dress she liked. It was an overly grand thing; pearly white with gold trim to match her eyes. What did take her long was actually slipping into the damn thing. She wondered a thousand times over if she had estimated the size wrong.

Then, she helped herself to the extensive line of expensive beauty products that lined the vanity. They were brands she had never heard of, but they glided smoothly on her skin. And they were all somehow the same pale shade that she was, in a stroke of luck.

Lastly, she dug through the accessories. She put on some earrings that she would never be able to afford and tugged on a pair of matching heels.

She grinned at herself in the mirror. "Exactly fifteen minutes."

Dominik was waiting at the end of the hall, eyes fixed on his watch. "That's more than fifteen."

"Oh, you little shit, it's close enough."

"Fifteen minutes and one second. Two seconds. Three."

"I hate you."

Dominik's eyes darted up from his watch, and his heart leaped. He cleared his throat. "You, uh."

"I don't look bad, do I?" Dionne asked. Maybe she should have done more with her hair, or found a less grand dress–

"No!" Dominik exclaimed quickly. She looked anything but. She looked like a Saint, ripped straight from the books of lore. "No, you look... fine. More than fine. Really, really good."

How eloquent, he grumbled to himself. All those years of poetry and vocabulary classes and the best he could come up with was really, really good.

She grinned, and her smile could have put the sun to shame. "Great. That's what I was going for, you know."

He cleared his throat again and offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

They walked to lunch as if they were going to a ball. Dominik felt underdressed. He could have done something with his hair in that time, or changed into something nicer than shredded formal clothes.

At the very least, Dionne didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked perfectly content. He stole a glance over at her and smiled softly.

He wanted to kick himself. Girl who's going to kill you, remember that.

As they arrived, he didn't miss the way Dionne's jaw dropped. He had set the formal dining room table with as much lavish food as he could manage. She nudged him.

"You could be a cook."

"In another life, maybe."

Dominik, by sheer force of habit, sat at the end of the table. She plopped herself right next to him, reaching for a plate. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make him feel not as alone in the palace.

They ate in silence, as neither was willing to break the comfortable tranquility they had going. Dionne was positively stuffing her face. Dominik did his best to uphold what little table manners he remembered. After all, he was a literal volcra now. On top of that, he didn't have visitors often.

Dionne sat up straight and swallowed her food. "This is really good." She said; she at least remembered Lua's scolding that she shouldn't speak with a full mouth.

He beamed. "You think so?"

She proceeded to stuff her face for a while before she lifted her head again and nodded. "Mhm!" Her cheeks were filled to the point where he worried she would choke.