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For now, you forgo wrapping the curse marks with the cloth that seals them away. There's no point in putting them on, not when Damien insisted that you let him take a closer look at them last night. He would just have Fiona take them right off so the two of them can poke and prod your arm and eye with an array of tools that would get most doctors sanctioned by the Church for blasphemy.
A part of you wishes you dodged him last night and put the matter of the curse marks off until you returned to Liliendorf. Another part realizes the need to better understand what is going on beneath the skin that has caused these marks to appear, what happened to your eye that made it change so.
Both parts agree that you'd rather have anyone <span class="mu-i">besides</span> Damien looking at the cursed mark... but, you can't always get what you want.
You have to suppress a sigh at the thought of Damien <span class="mu-i">oggling</span> the pattern of thorned vines that crawl up your arm from the diamond-shaped stigmata that pierces your left hand, blooming with fiery red roses. It would not be your toned, muscular arm that the burning specs of magenta that sit behind his blindfold drink in so greedily, no. You know exactly where his gaze would fall, that spot where the flame-like petals of the flowers cup your breast and lick at a certain part of yours that even the most daring outfits keep concealed.
You hide yours away beneath the pinstriped cups of a special undergarment that you purchased ahead of the first function where the Grand Duke insisted that you wear a <span class="mu-i">dress</span> to court. They say the strongest armor a woman can wear to court is a finely tailored dress, and in many ways you would agree. As knight, however... even though you know good clothes give more protection in that den of blood sucking vipers called "politics" than plate of any thickness, it never hurts to hide a bit of steel beneath your silks.
Today, in lieu of the armorsilks that are still under repair, you wear your holdout armor - undergarments made of the same material. They take the shape of a black corset teddy with pink pinstripes, and lace frills about the breasts and the thighs sewn in the likeness of a field of wildflowers. While not as strong as proper armorsilks, they will at least block a blow from sword or dagger.
Over it, you wear your city clothes.
A sleeveless, high-collared linen doublet covers your torso, conforming to the generous shape of your bust, though not near as closely as a set of armorsilks. It is trimmed with gold thread, and split down the middle. The left side is plain and gold, with a single black narzissenmark upon the breast. The right side is black as midnight, and dotted with a field of golden daffodils.
