That damn Summoner got his fiance a new outfit!
His fiance, a promised woman, and the Summoner was giving her gifts! Damnable enough she wore that hat — fair and lovely with ribbon and flowers — now she was being given fine, fancy dresses! Julius would rip that hood off the Summoner and gag them on it. Ishtar was his! His alone! The Summoner and everyone involved would pay! Askr would crumble for this misdeed, brick by brick! He was her prince, not some cloaked fool!
…was what Julius told himself during the weeks the outfit was only thought.
Now that it was real, he couldn't look at her for long, the fool himself. She was beautiful as ever, no better fit for a man like himself, but the outfit elevated her beyond a goddess, beyond being his empress.
She bore the same high pauldrons and collar, with her standard high pony-tail. Her now-white dress distractingly clung to her midriff, wrapped in belts, flaring out above the thighs, harnessed by more black belts with silver baubles on it. It trailed down between her bare and covered thigh, a path he refused to follow with his eyes — her bare thigh, not a new sight, gave to a thigh high boot that ended with open toes. To tie it all together, she was wrapped in a rich red cloak, an early (or late!) birthday gift from this damnable world.
"How do I look, Lord Julius?" she asked. Her hand, lovely and fair, hovered over her (bare) chest, a delicate smile on her face. "It…it reminds me of when we were younger. Do you remember how we would dress up?"
His mouth failed him. Of course he remembered! How could he forget? She was forever, beyond pain and suffering, something it would never take from him. Given to him, promised to him, a shining sliver of light arising above the darkness. They'd make it right! They'd make it wrong! They'd make it all together, hand in hand.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"You look okay!" He grabbed his cloak. Voice crackling, "Let us go. There are tasks to be done."