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ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━
“Mon trickster! You are beautiful!” Rook declared, placing a hand over his sternum. He was in the middle of one of his most passionate speeches after his Trickster had had the audacity to claim they were not up to standard. “Do not speak ill of yourself; I will not stand for it any longer!”
They had come to him, worried that the blemishes that dotted their cheeks had damaged their natural beauty. What nonsense!
“You are the very embodiment of beauté, Trickster,” he insisted. They braced to speak and he quickly shushed them, whisking them by the waist to stand with their back to his chest. He stopped them in front of a standing mirror, pointing to it with a gloved hand.
“I see nothing but perfection,” he said, less animated now and speaking into their ear. They shivered against him, frowning at the mirror.
“You must be blind,” they murmured back, eyes darting away from their reflection.
“C’est absurde! You’re blinded by something impermanent, that will never define you. Can’t you see?” He placed that same hand on their chin gently guiding their gaze back to the mirror. He didn’t understand how someone that captivated him so couldn’t see their own beauty when it was (literally) right in front of them. He cherished them and they only hurt themselves with such negativity.
“Monsieur Shoenheit—Roi du Poison—sees the beauty in me,” he said, “and if I am beautiful, surely you are stunning.”
“You’re flattering me.”
A soft sigh escaped Rook. Their insistence was really lowering his spirits.
“I promise you,” he began, spinning them around to face him once more. “You are beautiful. More than beautiful; when I observe the stars, I see nothing but your eyes; when the scent of something fresh hits my senses, I remember nothing but your scent; when I’m holding you close, all I can think of is how dear you really are to me, mon Trickster.”
Their eyes softened as he went on and he felt a warm feeling return to the atmosphere. It seemed he was finally getting through to them.
“Thanks, Rook. You always know what to say,” they smiled, reaching up to cup his face. They pulled him down and he obliged, letting their soft lips press to his cheek as an added show of appreciation for his words of kindness.
“Pas de quoi, mon Trickster,” he replied.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━