Revolting Relations

Chapter 1/Part 2 ~ Snuffle Crumble

But that fellow went beyond nature. He was unnaturally gorgeous.

"I have grown weak with anticipation," Vrye said, bowing his head to the Lady. It was a smooth recovery if he had to say so himself.

"Your nose is bleeding," she replied with more concern than he thought her folk capable of.

"...such anticipation," he said and put his smile to good use.

"Please, can someone escort my attendants to your servants quarters? I did not mean to overwhelm." With a deft movement of her hand, the whole cohort of Tyvern clustered around a Wyverkess and expected her to know what to do.

"Follow me," Merlo announced and stepped in to save her.

"Now, Alphonse—" the Lady of Darkness started, but her fine attendant did not miss a step.

"I'll get a sample and make sure it's not contagious."

Before Vrye knew what was happening, he had half a handkerchief stuffed up his nose and he was on his way back down to the floor without Merlo there to catch him.

He woke some time later, stripped of his jewels and half his garments, in the soft embrace of his bed. His face felt oddly fuzzy along the chin and under his nose. Then there was a sharp pain, like a needle jabbing into his skin. At first he was too out of sorts to respond, but after a few more pokes he found it in himself to utter an ouch.

"Keep still," urged the voice of the Tyvern who had rendered him such an embarrassment. He sounded ever so cheery.

Vrye tolerated a few more pricks for the happy fellow.

"Has he come to?" The door opened and the Lady of Darkness came swiftly to his bedside. "Alphonse, what have you done?"

"I knew I shouldn't have left one of you alone with him!" Merlo roared.

Vrye could just hear the whispers of Bordo trying to calm her.

"I improved him. Now when he bleeds, his new moustache will catch it," said sweet Alphonse.

"How thoughtful of you," Vrye gurgled blissfully. "Please continue."

"Don't you dare!" Merlo had the nerve to block the fellow from his work.

"Yes, I think that is quite enough of that. What of his illness?" the Lady replied. She had Vrye's hand held between hers but he was too feeble to free it.

"No idea what caused that," said Alphonse with an amused scoff.

With great effort, given he felt as limp as over-boiled cabbage, Vrye sat up and caught his reflection in the dressing-table mirror.

"It's simply magnificent! It's just what my face was missing. A mouse-stash, you called it?" He ran his fingers over the fine line of hairs that adorned his lip and chin. "My good fellow, you are an artisan!"

"Please, remove it before it causes an issue," the Lady dropped her voice to a murmur, "and remember to ask permission before you start altering anyone."

"Don't you dare, Mister Alphonse. I appreciate the gift." Vrye gave the moustache a twirl, which seemed the right thing to do with it. Then he risked another fainting spell and had a proper gander at Alphonse.

He throbbed from neck to knickerbockers. His heart leapt. His cod danced. Such vivacious cerulean eyes glistened under an explosion of azure hair, as wild and fibrous as strands of pure Nonsense. Accompanied by a nose long enough to spear a turnip and the grin of a wolf's granny. Vrye almost begged to be devoured.