Archive of Our Own ^beta

These are a couple of the many things he just learned about the place she calls London:

1. Women, regardless of their status, are expected to maintain their elegance and decorum whether it be in thought, speech, or deed,
2. Another commonality, though not openly admitted, would be the pursuit of preserving natural beauty - whether rich or poor, any lady would put in some effort to maintain or enhance her appearance for her own purposes (and through her own means), but;
3. While makeup - powders, lotions, creams, rouges, lipsticks, you name it - was admittedly a valuable aid to the relentless pursuit, the sheer fact that it was masking one’s true beauty led to the use of makeup eventually frowned upon.

So maybe, just maybe gifting her an elaborate makeup set was not appropriate - oh no, it was totally fine if just not to upset her - never mind the fact that he just spent at least five painstaking hours in the finest cosmetics shop of the Diamonds Quarter, selecting from shelves and shelves of exquisite products with only her in his mind, urging him to focus on picking the most charming of colors and the most suitable of scents that were perfect complements to her loveliness. 

It was just eight bottles of cream and lotion, three different powder jars, six varied shades of rouge, three lip salves and two lip glosses. Not a big problem at all.

True, she hardly needed the aid of any makeup to make herself even more dazzling than she already was in his eyes (though any more effort on her part was something he’d always appreciate), but in Cradle, a man giving a woman makeup as a gift carried different implications:

1. To give powders, lotions, or creams suggested a budding interest, for the items were for the lady’s daily use. It gave off messages along the lines of ‘remember me’, or ‘I support you’, for example.
2. Lipstick and rouge had more intimate meanings as both items were applied to the woman’s face - gifting the latter implied that the man was drawn to sight of her and if worn in return, it meant that she was also interested in him and was open to the notion of courtship.
3. The former was applied to the lips, so this was more of a confirmation: if she wore it, it meant that she accepted his affections entirely and was ‘claimed’ by him; but if not, it meant that she couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, and finally;
4. Giving a personal and complete makeup set carried all the messages and implications of the aforementioned items but even more than that, it also signified that only he was worthy enough to influence the beauty of his recipient; a clear cut sign of a romantic relationship in bloom.

… Well, it’s not like he wanted her to know that and maybe it’s better if she didn’t; for what truly mattered was her opinion on the subject: did she frown upon the use of makeup as well? Now that he mulls it over, her vanity was spotless, save for the bottles of perfume he gave her in the past and a vase for flowers. 

Or rather than frowning upon it, was she not accustomed to using makeup? She was a confectioner, so perhaps she didn’t bother buying herself any of the sort when she already knew that she’d be too busy in the kitchen all day with little to no chances to mingle with her customers at all.

During their so-called dates the month she landed in Cradle, she didn’t look like she put any trace of makeup on, either. Then again, they were still on… unsavory terms back then, so… 

… Did London also place meanings into certain gifts? If yes, did she ever receive an item conveying -

Jonah Clemence scowls, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of any more trifling questions in his mind. To vacillate is not characteristic of a Clemence, and if he had any more time to fret, then he might as well head over to her and hear what she had to say about the matter herself. 

He gets his answers that night:

• Contrary to his fussing, no, she wasn’t upset receiving a very ornate case filled with his five-hour exhaustive effort of fine makeup choices. Instead, she was flustered and taken aback, but after some convincing she takes the box into her hands with a winning smile that makes all those five hours worth it,
• She didn’t disapprove of makeup at all and if anything else, she was honestly curious about the whole thing: she tells him that she thinks of it as some form of painting or even decorating, similar to what she did with cakes and pastries - the sudden reference to food was very like her and he snorts at that,
• She had a bit of knowledge on how to use certain types of makeup thanks to her friends but true to what he thought, she admitted to rarely using makeup because her job aside, there wasn’t much reason for her to frequently use it in the first place, and;
• Yes, London also attached meanings to certain gifts. When he surly asks her if she had been offered gifts with special intentions, she twiddles her thumbs and she stutters, so -

- pinning her against the wall and watching her cheeks flush a shade of pink akin to the rouge he picked out for her, he lowers his lips to the shell of her ear, intentionally allowing his breath to fan over the flesh before whispering in a low voice:

… Were those gifts so wonderful?

Teeth nipping onto her ear, she lets out a small whimper.

… Ah, yes, he did get his answers that night.

She finally, finally makes good use of his gift for her appearance in the Red Army’s annual ball as his official partner, and he takes it upon himself to observe her in the art of applying makeup on herself.

He did ask her beforehand if she required professional help, but the sheer twinkle in her eyes when she told him that she’d try doing her makeup on her own was an… unfair move, in his book. How was he to say otherwise when she looked at him like that? Well, he’d like to believe that she really did have an inkling on how to use cosmetics, but just to be sure; he insisted in watching her in case she needed help - thankfully, she accepted without question.

Now, seated in the couch of her room where he could also see her reflection clearly in the vanity’s mirror, perhaps he didn’t need to be so critical of her skill at all.

He wasn’t able to properly see her process when she started with the exposed skin of her collarbone, but he’s left staring as her fingers cheerfully and repeatedly traced the curve of her neck to apply a fair amount of the vanilla-scented cream thoroughly, then followed immediately by patting it down lightly with some of the lavender dusting powder. He raises an eyebrow when she extends the same treatment to the nape of her neck - the wavy updo of her hair did leave that part visible to prying eyes…

Next she went about applying rouge onto her cheeks, and he quietly hums his approval upon seeing the color of her choice lightly dust her cheekbones: he had to hand it to her, out of the six rouges in her set, the pastel pink shade was the most suitable pick to complement both her dress and the overall image she was exuding so far - a youthful yet elegant look, the former defined by the light colors of her whole ensemble while the latter through the style of her outfit paired with her tasteful selection in jewelry.

And last but not the least she began to paint her lips, the tip of her index finger somewhat hesitant as she dipped it into a small jar. He sees the fingertip leave the jar tinted with a light crimson stain that she brings up to her parted lips but to land on one corner of her bottom lip, dragging slowly to a center point - she does the same for the other corner and he’s transfixed on her reflection, or rather the way that her finger moves oh-so carefully, oh-so gently across the smooth curve of her lip.

When she smacks her lips together, pulling her lips inward for a brief moment only to release them with a pop, he hears himself swallow a lump down his throat.

He’s still entranced as she continues to add some paint to her upper lip and before he knows it, she was already done with her makeup and had turned around on her seat to face him.

… What do you think?

Eyes snapping back into focus, he did his best to study her from head to toe: lengthy blonde hair tamed into an updo held up by lovely butterfly-shaped adornments, light pink cheeks a nice contrast to the vivid blue of her eyes, a complexion that still appeared natural even under the light, dangling earrings and necklace with beautiful pearls similar to those sewn on the front of her bodice, a tailor-made dress in varying shades of pastel peach flattering her curves in a most discreet manner, dainty feet slipped onto pristine white heels.

Yet…

He rises from his seat to stalk over to where she sat, briefly looking into those expectant eyes gazing back at him before looking down - back down, to those crimson lips.

… Unbelievable.

He barely gives her any time to react when he takes hold of her shoulders and swoops his head to capture her lips urgently in his: a little noise manages to escape her when he presses the tip of his tongue to that same corner of her lips where she first applied the lip salve, then drag slowly to trace the curve of her lips carefully like how he had seen her fingertip do earlier.

If he recalled correctly, the shop owner absurdly stated that the crimson lip salve was a delicious new product made out of a magically brewed concoction of plant butter and oils, then mixed with in with an organic blend primarily made out of strawberries - he dismissed it as nonsense but true enough, what tickles his tongue is a tart, so pleasantly sweet taste as he keeps his lips pressed to hers.

But as delicious as it was, nothing could ever compare to the taste of her so he coaxes her to let him in and she readily complies - as she received the taste of her own lips, he’s again reliving the taste of her mouth.

And she’s still as perfectly sweet unlike anything else in the world.

When they part for air, their foreheads are pressed together and their heavy breaths mingle, lips only a small distance apart - she meets the heat of an amber gaze with the haze of her of blue, but she does manage to lift a hand up and tenderly touch the delicate skin of his bottom lip with her thumb; wiping away at the faint crimson stains she saw there.

Voice a breathy whisper, she asks:

… Too much lip salve?

He laughs softly before setting her hand on the back of his neck, then leans over to kiss her again.