[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/400350193658232843/435854509915242502/cooltext283255921365999.png[/img]
[color=e3a777][sub][i]Interacting with Hestia Gristmill [@eclecticwitch] and Gwillim Gunnvaldr [@tracyarmav][/i][/sub][/color][/center]

As the entire family swarmed them, Scyrven could see their bride shaking, her eyes wide and every inch of her clearly overwhelmed. It filled the Drakkan woman with some amount of happiness that Hestia clung to her hand, and she gently squeezed the girl’s fingers in her own, not letting go as they proceeded through the night. She noticed the girl ate only a little but did not comment, other than to offer especially tasty morsels -those fruits which were sweetest, the softest bits of the roast game birds, the lightest of the wines- in an effort to entice her to eat more.

Upon retiring back to their rooms, Gwillim instructed the lass to help her remove her armor. She was ready to explain the laces, intent on giving the bride as little cause for stress as possible, but the girl seemed to quickly figure out even the most complex of the knots that Scyrven favored. She made quick work of the armguards and had started unlacing the back of Scyrven’s chestplate, her fingers growing slower and clumsier before stopping altogether.

She half-turned, a confused inquiry dying on her lips as the bride’s eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the floor fainted.

Oh.
Uh.

To say it was disconcerting for Scyrven would have been an understatement – the only time she’d ever dealt with someone fainting had been one of her soldiers of heatstroke deep in the southern wastes. 

She rushed to the bride’s side, scooping the girl up with little effort, feeling her clammy skin and slightly-too-warm flushed face. She placed the girl gently on the large bed and threw the windows open, calling what breeze she could into the room, soaking a washing-cloth in one of the basins of water that had been provided, chilling it with a current of air, and bringing it to gently dab at the girl’s face while her other hand loosened the lass’s corset laces, to let her breathe.

At that point she looked up to her mate, wondering what he thought of the situation. She wondered what [i]she[/i] thought of it as well.

[color=e3a777]“I suppose that miss Hestia made our choice for us, love. We should retire early in any case- the morning dawns bright and full of blood, if we’re not careful.”[/color] She made the comment lightly, jokingly, but a faint bit of bitterness lingered. She’d been rather hoping the girl would have been… receptive to sharing a bed (the scandalous part of her mind had dared to hope it would have even been that night!) but it seemed that was off the table for the night…

She left the girl’s side, leaving the cool cloth on her forehead, and worked to remove her armor, slipping out of it with little difficulty despite that her hands were working the laces blindly behind her back. She placed it on its stand, conveniently provided by the bed for just this purpose, and turned to face her husband and bride once more.

[hider=summary]
Scyrven is a derpy starstruck wife. Tends to Hestia upon her fainting and finishes undressing herself.[/hider]