she’s been the “esteemed guest” of the radiant empress (she who commands the stars, may she reign eternal!) for a couple of weeks, and things are wild. the planet is gorgeous, for one, all lush fields and overgrown forests and white sand beaches. much of it is natural, but she’s been shown the grand machines and devices that help to allocate precipitation and wind, and makes sure the temperature at the poles is “nearly as perfect” as the equator. and imperial citizens - at least the ones she’s met - are a pretty fun bunch. there’s a lot of parties and games, some pretty banging music, and really, really good wine.
but a part of her’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. penny has a responsibility back home, and she can’t shake her first impression: an alleged ambassador to earth firing at her with some laser gauntlet and taking out the bus stop behind her. she knows they can fight: she’s seen the walls of weapons and trophies in Celine’s palace. twice now, she’s sat at Celine’s side in the grand colosseum's royal box, watching races and sparring and wrestling. and as fun as it is to watch top athletes in their element, she’s not sure what to make of the empress promising “something more interesting next time.”
and then there’s celine.
it’s like trying to talk to a marble statue, a sunset, a mountain. penny didn’t know that somebody could really command that much presence and power. and there’s no doubt that celine knows it, and likes it - when a hundred thousand people in the arena are cheering the empress’ name, there isn’t so much of a hint of modesty on her face. she loves adoration from the masses as much as from individuals, because a couple times they’ve met for breakfast, and penny can definitely smell sex on her. there’s times where penny’s caught her staring - not that celine’s made much an effort to hide it - and those looks are pretty similar to how the empress sizes up her attendees.
(“attendees” is the word that penny’s mentally calling the dozens of gorgeous, thinly-clad women that wait on them hand and foot. she doesn’t want to think about “servants.” she really doesn’t want to think about “slaves.”)
it’s just a lot to take in. and so, two weeks after arrival, there’s a night where, as much as she tosses and turns, penny can’t fall asleep. romeda and dione, the handmaidens that celine gaveloanedassigned to penny, tittered and offered a few suggestions: sex, a massage, a midnight feast. and then one suggested that if penny really just wanted to wander a little, there was no better place than in the empress’ private gardens.
penny couldn’t think of a reason not to go, so. she went.
(she did not see the message dione sent to celine almost immediately: Consort-In-Training Penelope has been sent to the Garden of Submission, Your Radiance. May your claiming be violent and pleasurable.)
the garden is beautiful, and for a few minutes, penny just wanders through the topiary and statues, taking in the sweet-but-spicy scent of the flowers and the endless stars above her. she’s about to find somewhere to sit, maybe listen to some music, before her spider-sense starts to hum, and she looks from one side, to another, and then - ]
Oh!
[ empress celine is flying, hovering above as she slowly descends to the ground.
she drops into a clumsy attempt at a curtsy, which is really more like a decisive nod. it doesn’t help that she’s only in an admittedly comfortable negligee and robe that was offered to her. (actually, a dozen were offered, and this was one of the thicker ones.) ]
Sorry - Dione said that I should check this place out. She said you wouldn’t mind if my first time wasn’t a guided tour or anything.
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the garden
Date: 2024-05-08 11:29 pm (UTC)she’s been the “esteemed guest” of the radiant empress (she who commands the stars, may she reign eternal!) for a couple of weeks, and things are wild. the planet is gorgeous, for one, all lush fields and overgrown forests and white sand beaches. much of it is natural, but she’s been shown the grand machines and devices that help to allocate precipitation and wind, and makes sure the temperature at the poles is “nearly as perfect” as the equator. and imperial citizens - at least the ones she’s met - are a pretty fun bunch. there’s a lot of parties and games, some pretty banging music, and really, really good wine.
but a part of her’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. penny has a responsibility back home, and she can’t shake her first impression: an alleged ambassador to earth firing at her with some laser gauntlet and taking out the bus stop behind her. she knows they can fight: she’s seen the walls of weapons and trophies in Celine’s palace. twice now, she’s sat at Celine’s side in the grand colosseum's royal box, watching races and sparring and wrestling. and as fun as it is to watch top athletes in their element, she’s not sure what to make of the empress promising “something more interesting next time.”
and then there’s celine.
it’s like trying to talk to a marble statue, a sunset, a mountain. penny didn’t know that somebody could really command that much presence and power. and there’s no doubt that celine knows it, and likes it - when a hundred thousand people in the arena are cheering the empress’ name, there isn’t so much of a hint of modesty on her face. she loves adoration from the masses as much as from individuals, because a couple times they’ve met for breakfast, and penny can definitely smell sex on her. there’s times where penny’s caught her staring - not that celine’s made much an effort to hide it - and those looks are pretty similar to how the empress sizes up her attendees.
(“attendees” is the word that penny’s mentally calling the dozens of gorgeous, thinly-clad women that wait on them hand and foot. she doesn’t want to think about “servants.” she really doesn’t want to think about “slaves.”)
it’s just a lot to take in. and so, two weeks after arrival, there’s a night where, as much as she tosses and turns, penny can’t fall asleep. romeda and dione, the handmaidens that celine
gaveloanedassigned to penny, tittered and offered a few suggestions: sex, a massage, a midnight feast. and then one suggested that if penny really just wanted to wander a little, there was no better place than in the empress’ private gardens.penny couldn’t think of a reason not to go, so. she went.
(she did not see the message dione sent to celine almost immediately: Consort-In-Training Penelope has been sent to the Garden of Submission, Your Radiance. May your claiming be violent and pleasurable.)
the garden is beautiful, and for a few minutes, penny just wanders through the topiary and statues, taking in the sweet-but-spicy scent of the flowers and the endless stars above her. she’s about to find somewhere to sit, maybe listen to some music, before her spider-sense starts to hum, and she looks from one side, to another, and then - ]
Oh!
[ empress celine is flying, hovering above as she slowly descends to the ground.
she drops into a clumsy attempt at a curtsy, which is really more like a decisive nod. it doesn’t help that she’s only in an admittedly comfortable negligee and robe that was offered to her. (actually, a dozen were offered, and this was one of the thicker ones.) ]
Sorry - Dione said that I should check this place out. She said you wouldn’t mind if my first time wasn’t a guided tour or anything.