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[The so-called Temple is actually more of a castle, close up, and the priests and priestesses have certainly tried to make it feel more like a home, so far. If the chosen Bride had any fear of being strapped to an altar and sacrificed immediately on arrival, the attendants hope the hospitality will soothe it.

When she first arrived, she was seen to a luxurious private bedroom and allowed to rest, then given a tour of her new home (all but one foreboding room behind a white door at the highest point of the highest tower.) Then came a sumptuous wedding feast of every delicacy imaginable, and some perhaps even unheard of. The Lord was strangely not in attendance.

"He'll see you later tonight," said the high priest, a portly man with kind eyes. "He wants you to enjoy yourself in the meantime."

After dinner it was off to the baths, where the Bride was soaked and scrubbed in hot mineral springwater and fragrant oils, then dressed in nothing but a white silk robe tied at the waist. There is little doubt what is to happen now, as the high priestess walks the Bride up to that white door in the high tower.

"Only do not shun him," said the priestess. "He will not hurt you. But do not refuse."

With that discomforting little message, they open the doors and usher the Bride inside what appears to be a featureless room, gray stone. At the far end is a flat stone altar, and behind it a throne.

In the throne sits nothing but a cloud of shadow, immense and as featureless as the room except for pinpricks of light, glowing orange eyes.]

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[ Elise gasps as the tendrils touch her, forgetting entirely that her robe is being held open as they slide lower down her body. She'd expected this, to have to do this with whomever her groom was, but she hadn't quite expected it like this, and on instinct reaches her hand past the tendrils, between her legs. Is this really happening? This is going to happen, isn't it?

That doesn't mean she's quite ready for it, and she bites her lip as she looks up — and realizes she'd forgotten she was wed to a shadow. She flinches back a bit, free hand flying to her mouth.

Do not shun him. Don't refuse.

It takes a moment for her to regain her composure, taking a deep breath before she moves her hands and looks up at those lights. ]

Will you... Can you kiss me? [ And then, somewhat embarrassed by the request: ] Please?

[The lights are as bright and devoid of expression as always, perched somewhere near the top of his mass, though it looks as though they can slide freely wherever he wants them to go. They watch her endlessly, without even blinking. At her question they actually tilt somewhat. Doglike, perhaps.

A kiss. He saw kisses in the book. It is the touch of a mouth, two human lips pressing together. He is sorely lacking in that department at the moment.

But they lectured him endlessly about the importance of pleasing his bride. He should be kind and gentle a husband, and see to her every need. Her happiness would make her a better vessel, a better wife, and he had a Responsibility to do as she asked. It was Good to do as she asks.

The tendrils slow, and for a moment he seems almost... confused. Then the eyes suddenly come towards her, looming over as his body bends and looks almost like it will engulf her completely.

He doesn't. A tendril slides out from somewhere beneath his eyes. Very slowly, very carefully, it touches her lips.

Then there is the distinct feeling he's waiting for her reaction with anticipation.]

[ She freezes when the eyes come close and shadows close in, worried she'd said something wrong — and then that shadow touches her lips, and Elise pauses for a moment, her eyes slowly shifting to look at it.

And then, she can't help it. She laughs. It's...strangely endearing to see him try to acquiesce, without actually being able to. ]

I'm- sorry. That was rude of me to ask, wasn't it?

[ Still, it does help to break some of the tension inside of her, and Elise leans to kiss the tendril, closing her eyes as she does. And, even though it makes her nervous, she moves her hands to her sides, leaning back just a bit, almost presenting herself to him.

Her cheeks color again, but she won't turn back— ]

I asked something of you. Now, what would you like me to do?

[That worked better than he thought it would. She seems pleased (and he knows because they showed him human facial expressions, too.) That's a good thing. He can't worry, not yet, but he wondered how he would do at meeting his bride when she had never seen him before. They're very different from one another.

For now. But not for long.

He goes back to touching her, his warm limbs exploring her arms and her hands, her breasts, her stomach. Two others pay a little more attention to her thighs. He experiments with bending her knees, seeing how that works. They showed him a woman's anatomy in one of the books. One tendril slides out to very tenuously slide between her legs, almost experimentally touching her.

The ritual nears, but, as the priestesses insisted, he must be Patient. He must give his bride time to prepare before they begin.]

[ Elise offers him what she can, holding up a hand when the tendrils slide along her arm, watching as they move along her skin. It's a strange, alien sensation — but she can't deny that it isn't bad. Her skin tingles everywhere he touches, helps to untie that knot of unease in her gut. Her face heats when he lifts her legs, exposing her, but this time she manages to catch herself before she can put her hands in the way.

She hadn't been prepared for what those tingles would feel like, though, between her legs. ]

Ah-!

[ It's a small, sharp sound, but there's no hint of fear in it. Just surprise, a hand flying up to her mouth as her eyes widen. She looks up, seeking those lights, and takes a breath as she pulls her hand away from her mouth. There's a warmth that followed the movement of the tendril, and her eyes flicker down to look at it, before back up to look at the lights.

She reaches to set her hand on one of the tendrils, where she would approximate a shoulder to be, to brace herself. ]

Will you- do that again?

[Again? Yes. He can do it again. He intends to, really. The ritual will involve quite a bit more touching between her legs. All the better if she enjoys it.

The tendril curls back again and slides between her thighs once more, rubbing against her sex, back and forth. The thin tip does a little more touching as the rest rubs, feeling where her body folds and briefly, experimentally poking at her entrance. Only briefly, though, as though confirming it's there.

For the moment, he focuses on rubbing, feeling the way her body reacts to it. The tendrils are more sensitive than they look, and he can feel the slightest of shifts in her temperature, her breath, the slightest shiver through them.]

[ The sound that comes from her this time is far less surprised, something edging close to a moan as her fingers grip into the bit of shadow she's holding. It's strangely warm, almost like sparks tickling and touching along her skin, and when she feels that tendril prod at her, her hips twitch.

Oh. So this is how it will happen, how it can happen with something that isn't human. Her eyes fall halfway to open as he continues to rub at her, takes a breath as she slides a hand up her stomach to caress a breast. There's a warmth unfurling in her gut, something foreign and welcome, and if she just— ]

A-ah!

[ A flood of heat as she pinches her nipple, and this time she moves her hips on purpose, to rub against the tendril touching her. What if...

Elise lets go of the shadows, slides her free hand between them to rub her hand along the one between her legs. She's getting wet now, can feel the slick somehow clinging to the shadow — and her fingers guide him to the apex, to the little bundle of nerves the elders told her about, that she'd been too ashamed to experiment with before this. ]

Try- try here.

[She begins to touch herself. He believes that to be a good sign, but the priests did not cover for what reason the bride might begin to touch herself. It does not seem to relay any distress, so he continues stroking her, watching in what could be perceived as fascination as she touches her nipples and rubs against him.

Perhaps it feels good. The priestesses said it should, if he is doing it right.

Her fingers take the tip of his tendril, and he stills as she moves it to a very particular spot. There is a little cleft there, and at her urging, he twists, circling it, stimulating the way another tendril simultaneously begins on her nipple.]

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