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Brunch at the Rose Garden means getting to enjoy one’s food while surrounded by the freshly-misted roses that give off a wonderful smell. A true delight to one’s senses, especially when paired with black coffee dusted with cinnamon, various offerings of crabs, and delicate desserts laid out on the table.
“What a wonderful offering,” Dazai says with her lace-gloved fingers on her cheeks, an expression of awe on her face. “I’m honored that you’ve welcomed me so nicely.”
If one isn’t particularly looking out for it, it’s easy to miss the snort that Chuuya lets out behind her. However much they like to play games on who can annoy each other more, that’s reserved for their private dealings. When out in public, meeting other nobles who have designs on her power blocks: they present a united front.
The sweet, beautiful, cunning princess and her loyal, brutish, tiny knight.
Out of anyone’s view, Chuuya pulls out a chair for her, all the hallmarks of showing off chivalry, while stealthily pinching her waist. An unspoken, “I can sense you thinking bullshit about me, oi.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” the greasy duke tells her, an effusive smile on his face that doesn’t quite succeed in hiding his terrible thoughts about using her as a pawn.
Society these days likes to dress itself up as being progressive enough to acknowledge equal rights for all people. Dressing up in beautiful layered clothes is fun, but there’s no disguising the rotten core—dukes from ancient lines of nobility still think that women are inherently weaker.
It’s something that Dazai likes to take advantage of. Nobody would be wary of a fragile princess who looks pale from not being out in sunshine much, and is covered in bandages and the scent of medicine. Nobody would suspect that she’s the leader of the city’s most powerful intelligence network.
In their eyes, she’s “only” part of the so-called “double black” – a fashionable term coined for her and her ever-present bodyguard, the two of them stomping down on societal norms by wearing funeral black regardless of occasion.
Her, in complex black lace gowns that balloon enough that Chuuya can stash herself and an entire armory of weapons underneath. Chuuya, in a black silk suit that cinches her waist nicely, as well as accentuating the fullness of her chest that not even tightly-buttoned silk shirts can handle.
It makes for a nice contrast, really. Chuuya in her straightforward suits that mean business, all streamlined lines that hug her form clearly. She can’t stash too many weapons in her person because of how tight-fitting her clothes are—at least, that’s the expectation that she gives off to those who look at her. Chuuya doesn’t need weapons, because she prefers to fight barehanded, but in the moment that she does use a dagger or a gun—well, it’s always a pleasant experience to have Chuuya slide a hand up her thigh and take out a blade that she’s strapped in her garter.
Even better, that one time Dazai hid a blade between her breasts—Chuuya’s expression had been hilarious, to say the least.
In any case, the term “double black” is applied to them without any weight beyond something related to fashionable aesthetics. Like they’re merely a pair of women who wanted to shake up the acceptable color choices when it comes to their usual attires.
Oh, if only everyone knew that they should be mourning their misfortune for crossing paths with them. Then, they’d understand that the black is made with their pitiful ignorance in mind.
…Not to mention, all the black does look really nice on Chuuya.
She’s so flashy with not only her moves, but also in her looks. Bright blue eyes and bright red hair and bright loud disposition—she’s far from being the ideal of a proper knight: meant to act as a faithful shadow, camouflaging into the darkness so they can protect their masters efficiently.
Chuuya’s powerful enough to not need stealth.
Thinking about what tricks she can ask Chuuya to do later—all in the name of inspecting her form and making sure that she isn’t slacking off in her training, of course—does make the passage of time feel more bearable.
A brunch invitation at such a romantic place is a signal from this duke that he wishes to add her as a mistress. A princess getting into the graces of a duke with relatively good standing isn’t such a scandalous affair, but—
That’s assuming that he isn’t using her as a shield for a wave of scandals cresting up his estate.
“You’ve even prepared my favorite food,” she says with a small smile on her face. It really is the visual feast. It’s such a shame that such a lovely spread of food is tainted by unsubtle poisons.
Just judging from how the colors of her favorite food have been altered slightly, a cheap paralytic, plus something that’s being experimented on as an aphrodisiac and a brainwashing drug. Truly a shame. They have such lofty ambitions, but they lack the creativity and pizzazz to pull off a grand plan.
“I’ve always admired you from afar,” is the other party’s confession. “I’ve long wanted the chance to speak with you privately.”
This is followed by a pointed look towards where Chuuya is standing behind her chair.
They’ve known each other for years. Even without actually seeing her slug, she knows how her posture is, as well as the micro-expressions that must be present on her face. Chin raised, eyes bright but lids half-lowered because dealing with such idiots is truly beneath her. Gloved hands inside her pockets, shoulders in repose. Her presence undeniable, but her stance relaxed, utterly provocative.
“I’m afraid that I’m a very shy person,” she demurs the obvious request to have Chuuya momentarily step away. “I might not be able to talk if my Chuuya is far away from me.”
“I’ve heard about how you’re really good friends.”
At these words, Chuuya does let out a snort, louder than the one before.
The indulgent smile that floats up Dazai’s face doesn’t need a lot of faking. Unfortunately, the person in front of her doesn’t share a tacit understanding with her thoughts and actions. He seems to have assumed that her indulgence of her companion’s rudeness is out of kindness, or some boring emotion.
“Having someone by my side who only wants the best for me is indeed a wonderful thing,” she says with that indulgent smile still on her lips. “I’m very lucky to have someone like Chuuya always looking out for me.”
Of course, a lot of times, Chuuya looks at her through the scope of a sniper rifle, with hot eyes that seem to want to burn her on the spot. She greatly enjoys being the focus of such a passionate attention. The least she could do is to watch Chuuya with as much intensity.
“It’s such a lovely friendship,” the greasy man says, wiping off sweat from his forehead as he seems to be scrambling for a chance to separate them.
She wants to tut at him, wag her finger in reproach. There are numerous people who wish to separate them. Over the years, the numbers don’t dwindle entirely, but none of them have been successful. After all, while she does find Chuuya’s existence too blindingly bright that it hurts her eyes, not being able to see the shorty by her side is even more of an eyesore.
Softly, “It really is. She’s such a good dog, wanting to protect her master.”
She could see the way that thoughts screech into a halt for the target in front of her. Trying to process the endearment of “dog” in this situation.
Nonetheless, she knows that it’s a lost cause. Only Chuuya could understand this way of showing her affection, and only Chuuya indulges her in her ways.
“She’s so protective of me,” she adds, then snickers a bit when Chuuya’s scoff is loud enough that it seems to tickle the hairs at the top of her head.
“Only because it’s my right to be the one to kill you.” So matter-of-factly, like she’s merely reciting some boring report.
“Mm, so you should protect me until then,” Dazai agrees, then raises her right hand in front of her.
Walking around her seat, Chuuya places a phone upon her upturned palm. She picks it up using her left hand, then curves her free hand around her darling dog’s cheek, much like how one would affectionately touch their pet. It’s part of them presenting their united front, part of them showing off just how close they are.
Of course, Chuuya will retaliate later, once they’re back in their home, for treating her like this.
But that’s for later.
For now, she says, “This man wants to do unspeakable things to me.” She lets her thumb rub the swell of Chuuya’s lower lip, full and glossy even though she never uses make-up even with all of her wheedling. “I need you to protect me from him, Chuuya.”
Without letting the man spurt out denials, a crimson fountain spurts out from his neck, courtesy of Chuuya accurately throwing one of the knives on the table. A few seconds later, the man’s not-so-hidden bodyguards swoop into the scene, but Chuuya dances on the tabletop, a flame that hops from one side to another, blazing through the forces and snuffing them out until they’re an unconscious pile on the ground.
Dazai watches the spectacle and feels her body grow hot. She’s hungry, just watching her dog, and she peers at the poisoned offerings in front of her. Just one bite, and she’d be in dire straits. Just one bite, and maybe she’d end up meeting death. Just one bite, and—
“Don’t even think about it,” Chuuya commands imperiously. Her hair is all wild flames, some of the curls untucked from the ponytail that she usually pulls them up with whenever she’s working. “Your life belongs to me, shitty Dazai.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You dare to order a princess around?”
Chuuya hops down so that she’s kneeling in front of her seat. It’s not a position that she takes with any sort of deference. Gloved hands openly grope her legs, sliding up in brisk motions, until her skirts are hiked up entirely to her thighs. White bandages over her legs, black garters on her thighs with twin serrated blades.
Chuuya picks one up, slinking forward so that she’s draped over her lap. The blade against her neck, a promise and a sign of possessiveness.
“I agreed to work with you so I could be the one to kill you,” sounds so very sweet to her ears. “Your life belongs to me.”
“What a violent knight you are,” she says with a sigh, then draws Chuuya closer by the choker on her neck, kissing her without care for the blade still pressed against her skin.
The knight who promised to stay by her side for a lifetime, just so she could kill her eventually. The princess who has stopped trying to remove herself from such a boring world, just so she could establish a force powerful enough to deter others from trying to take her knight away from her.
Between the two of them, who’s the one who’s been truly captured?
Only the two of them know the truth about this matter, and it would stay that way for the rest of time.
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