Condesce/Sassacre

	He loved her from the moment he caught a glimpse of her, in the midst of a gathering one fall afternoon that may or may not have actually been a fever dream; a striking beauty with unnatural skin and hair that fanned out about her. He couldn’t make out much more of her before she was quietly ushered away from most of the guests but even from where Sassacre stood he could make out her feisty voice and vulgar speech. He sought her out immediately and though it took more work than he would have cared for, he finally had the chance to speak face to face with the enchanting woman. She fascinated him, captivated his attention; she stood tall and proud, ridged horns protruding from her scalp and pointed fins along the side of her face.

	It must be coincidence, she thought, but what coincidence could it be to find the one man who would not frightfully turn away from the sea of hair that swirled about her frame, the protruding fangs and pointed horns that extended towards the heavens. His face had lit up and he took her hand without it being offered, idly admiring the contrast in their skin as he kissed the back of it. Her stomach churned and she was almost ready to gut him where he stood when he finally opened his mouth and introduced himself. He called her beautiful, exotically so, in that odd Southern drawl she would eventually come to adore and she snorted, pulling her hand away from his lips. He seemed to take it in stride, chatting with her excitedly about local news and asking where she had come from. She had brushed him off with few words, coldly introducing herself as but a humble baker from wealthy lineage, after all why waste even more of her precious time talking with an annoying pest like him? The twinkle in his eyes and the grin under his salt-and-pepper mustache made her teeth grit and hands itch.

	“We’ll dolphinitely meet again my dear!” The clacking of her heels paused momentarily, her fuchsia painted lips curling over her fangs in a tight smile.

	“not bad for a land-dwella” He pursued her relentlessly after that night. Sending her bouquets of flowers, visiting her estate, demanding to see her. He would tell her every fish related joke he knew to get a chuckle out of her, he sent her cards littered with puns. And somehow, between the cheesy jokes and the botched magic tricks, the empress found herself becoming more and more enamored with his efforts. And though she rebuffed his advances for months, he persisted until one day she finally, to his great surprise and pleasure, accepted his proposal for proper date.

--

	“sassacre quit fuckin playin, water you even doin,” Instead of answering her, Sassacre simply squeezed the hand resting on her shoulder. She huffed, indignant, and mumbled a few choice words under her breath but continued to stumble along with her date as her lead. The entire idea was ludicrous; he had stopped by her home early one in the afternoon and proceeded to tell her to get prepared for a ‘special evening’. Once she had dressed herself, he slipped a piece of fabric over her eyes and escorted her out of her room and onward to wherever their destination was. After her third time stumbling, Sassacre finally had her stop before pulling off the blindfold.

	Blinking at the sudden light, Condesce squinted as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Before her was an ornately decorated table with two seats, presumably for them, and two wine glasses. It looked, in fact, to be part of a mostly unused section of the vast manor English had let her take over, a suspicion confirmed when she caught sight of a few modestly dressed women speaking in hushed tones and rushing around the other end of the room. ‘Hmm’ing, she allowed Sassacre to pull out the chair for her and scoot her towards the table, watching as he excitedly made his way to the other end and sat down. Human courtship sure was weird.

	Grinning, Sassacre held up the bottle of wine and a corkscrew, and though Condesce had partaken in the soporific substance before she was not nearly as excited to see the dark red liquid. She was even less excited to see him struggle to uncork the bottle, grumbling under his breath as he twisted and turned to no avail. Hiding a smile behind her napkin, Condesce watched Sassacre fumble with the wine bottle for a moment long before uttering a quiet ‘ah-hah!’ and sheepishly managing to pour the two of them a class. Coughing nervously, he quickly motioned for one of the fair-haired workers to bring out dinner while he attempted to save face.

	“I’ve still got a few kinks to work out before that one can be an ofishal trick,” He wiggled his eyes brows and Condesce rolled her eyes despite the growing smile on her pleasant features. Within minutes the first set of workers were carrying out plates of food, gracefully placing them before the two in groups of three until there was hardly any room left.

	“daaaaamn son, pulled out all tha stops didnt ya” The dinner that was brought out was a feast of Condesce’s favorites, mostly a variety of sea food that the empress hadn’t the chance to sample often. And while dinner was over the top, what Sassacre had really poured his heart into was dessert. A decadent, beautifully decorated, four tier chocolate cake with caramel between each layer and frosted with dulce de leche cream cheese frosting. It was handmade entirely by the gentleman himself and had taken hours of preparation, but the blood sweat and tears would be well worth it to see the look on her face. A single slice, more than enough for the two of them to share, was brought out and placed in the center of the table along with two forks.

	Her Imperial Condescension, ruler of a race of brutal, planet-conquering aliens, stuck her tongue out childishly before taking another bite of cake. Closing her eyes, she made exaggerated moans of delight as she chewed, taking her sweet time and drawing out the experience. A sudden flick on her nose startled her out of her reprieve and she worriedly opened her eyes to see Sassacre, eyebrow raised but otherwise sitting exactly as he were before. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she put her fork down and calmly reached two fingers up to her nose, immediately feeling the thick and sticky remnants of whatever had been done to her.

	“sassacre you motherglubbin busta, is this what i think it is?” Sassacre had a terrible pokerface, of course, he could hardly keep a straight face when telling his jokes but right now he couldn’t even attempt to hide his broad smile. Instead, he choked out a few words between chortles, asking his beloved what she could be talking about. Scowling, Condesce swiped off a chunk of the pink material, leaning over the table and shaking her finger in his face.

	“this betta not be the frosting off ma cake homebuoy or i swear imma!”  While she expected a retaliation she did not expect to have his mouth around her finger, cleaning the cream cheese frosting with his tongue.

	“Well shucks, it seems to be that this is the frosting off my cake.” He chuckled at the expression on her face, watching her gape for a moment before her nostrils flared. Puffing out her cheeks, she frowned and stood from her seat. Storming over to the other side of the table, she waited for Sassacre’s laughter to die down before bending forward, nearly nose and nose and close enough to feel the hairs of his mustache tickle the top of her lip. This close to him she could see the way his eyes twinkled mischievously, the cocky raising of a bushy eyebrow as if challenging her. For the first time she really looked at the man who had spent years chasing after her. Her features softened, and in that instant Sassacre seized his chance. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers, tensing in preparation of a reprimand. She surprised him for the second time that week, kissing him back eagerly, if not awkwardly to keep her pointed teeth from digging into his skin. The smile on his face when she pulled back could probably split his face in half.

	“Now we’re cooking petrol!”

	She kissed him again, murmuring against his mouth, “shut the fuck up sucka.”