For a glass of Bordeaux

There are many crafts in this world that are nothing short of miraculous. Acting, for example; while Artoria is quite skilled at hiding the inconvenient things, she’s not so good as to successfully project emotions at will. Smithing, for another; contrary to popular belief, it’s not as simple as shoving molten iron in a mold and then pounding it into shape; there’s a rhythm the hammer must follow, a song she’s been slowly learning under Muramasa’s tutelage.

Taking nudes apparently also falls in this category.

Artoria slams her pillow on her face to muffle her scream. Here she is, half naked, lying on the finest of silks (well okay 5$ ikea sheets) and her current emotions are about 0% arousal and 110% frustration. She cannot for the life of her make those photos look good. She has to twist herself in unnatural angles just to get a full picture of her ass. The lighting reflects weirdly on her skin. How does one even make their tits look attractive?? Artoria barely has anything on her chest to begin with. Is she supposed to take a picture from above?? From below?? Fuck, from the side maybe??

Artoria lets out a deep, deep sigh. Then, she casts the pillow aside. Okay. Okay. Complaining is very therapeutic, but it won’t get her anywhere. Which means her options right now are giving up, or asking for help.

Unfortunately, Artoria is very, very bad at giving up on things. Rest assured she’s the most saddened by this fact.

She scrolls through her camera roll, then selects the least bad of her pictures (a hopefully tasteful view of her happy trail ending at the edge of her panties.) She closes her eyes, swallows her pride, and types a quick message to Knocknarea.

Artoria:

There. Artoria sets her phone aside, and pulls her skirt back on. Knock will undoubtedly make fun of her, but once she’s done laughing her belly out her advice should be helpful.

Halfway through buttoning her shirt back on, her phone vibrates. She expects it to be from Knocknarea, but the preview message reads:

Oberon:

She snorts. She doesn’t remember what was the last thing she sent in the group chat, but it must have been one really good cursed meme. She unlocks her phone and scrolls up, intending to see what she last sent-

She physically feels the blood drain away from her face.

Oh no. No no no no no no no no

Oberon:

Panic spikes through her entire being, and, by pure instinct, Artoria hurls her phone to the other side of the room. It hits the wall, then falls on the floor, screen first. She doesn’t pick it back up.

Hell is real. Hell is real and she’s in it. The mortification is going to kill her. Or she’ll kill herself first. Jesus fucking christ. Artoria is two seconds away from grabbing a shovel and burying herself in the cemetery. As an acceptable alternative, she decides to huddle under her blankets to appropriately wallow in misery.

She gets about ten minutes to be dramatic to herself. Then she hears a knock at the door.

At this very moment, the following occurs to her:

• Oberon and Ritsuka both live about ten minutes away from her house.
• Oberon and Ritsuka both have a copy of her house keys.
• She literally just sent the both of them a nude and then left them on read.

She hears the click of the door being unlocked. Forget about embarrassment. Dread and terror are her new parasites. “DON’T COME IN! I’M NAKED!”

“Well that’s nothing I haven’t seen now. ” Oberon’s voice replies. Still, she hears his footsteps stop right in front of her bedroom door, so her bluff paid off a little. “Alright. Explanation?”

Artoria jumps out of bed, hurriedly buttoning the rest of her shirt. “I misfired! didn’t mean to send that to you! Shit happens!”

“And just who did you mean to send that to, young lady?”

“ Young lady? ” Artoria throws her bedroom door wide open. Oberon is standing behind it, arms crossed. “You’re five years older than me. Stop acting like you’re my dad. ”

“Then who did you mean to- to send that to, Artoria? ” He stutters in the middle of his sentence for some reason. From anger, surely. He’s a bit red in the face. For a second, his gaze stops on her legs, and it occurs to Artoria that she’s not wearing her stockings right now. This is unrelated to the current argument though, so she quickly dismisses that thought.

“You’re not my boyfriend either?? My sex life is none of your concern??”

“I think it’s my concern when you send a dick pic on a shared group chat.”

“Oh my god, there weren’t even any dicks!”

“It’s semantics, you little-”

The door opens up again, startling the both of them.

“Hi Artoria!” Ritsuka’s voice greets her from the living room. “Oh, you’re here too Oberon, that’s great!”

Oberon turns around, such that Artoria stands on his right, and Ritsuka on his left. “Of course I’m here. I assume you saw the picture too?”

“Obviously.” Ritsuka answers. They stride through the living room and set a heavy bag on the kitchen table. “It’s not like it’s been deleted or anything.”

Argh! That’s right! She’d been so busy trying to avoid the consequences of her actions that she didn’t even think to delete the picture!! Hell is real Hell is real on this planet earth.

“I was just asking her who exactly was this picture meant to.”

Artoria is glaring at Oberon with all her might. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Ritsuka pulling things out of their bag. “I mean, I figured it was kind of obvious?”

“I meant why would she send that picture.”

There’s the sound of clinking glass. “Wow, such a mystery. What reasons could someone possibly have to send a nude. We’re never cracking this case open, Oberon.”

Oberon whirls towards Ritsuka. “Look, I’m just worried about her! What if her nudes get leaked, or- what are you doing?”

Confused, Artoria follows his gaze. On the other side of the room, Ritsuka is dutifully pouring wine in three different glasses. Two bouquets of flowers have been arranged on the table, bouquets which certainly have not been present fifteen minutes earlier. Take-out rests on the counter.

Ritsuka looks at Oberon, then at her, then back at Oberon. 

“Did I… misunderstand something?”

Comments