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[Merci d'Rue]

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When a corset touches flesh it binds it within its control, tightly adhereing the curves into tight lines. The corsets of Merci d'Rue were plentiful and useful, they were not toys or frilly undergarments as some women used them, they were quite simply that which held her in control.

Often in the rigors of battle she would find herself using the flexibility of her body to survive, twisting, turning, ducking, leaping. Her center found she easily moved, with precise determination. An art in motion, the female warrior. She loved the sights the sounds the wash of blood the whole thing and her fighting was her art her existance. The corset elemental in her daily life, the armour fit neatly in place, never moving, the leather following every line of her body.

From the bath a leg stepped, pale long and shaped rising to a thigh that lead into her hips and waist. Curves free to move as they wished, breasts free to breathe. Yet not for long as the corset was held up, a new one in the colors she requested, a blueish shadowy color. Tightly it fit over her breasts and abdomen, the maid tugging on the laces and Merci breathing a sigh of relief, her frosty breath floating softly from her mouth.

Control restored, balance aqcuired, her mind clear. Beneath her corset where the material gave way to flesh lay a wild woman tightly reigned in by her own mental fortitude. So little symbols, like this held great significance to her Lycan mind. To cut a string was to unlock a door, to release a strap was to bid her heart race free. To remove the corset was to love again.....

She paused, the icy bath now frozen, the maid standing chattering., skin turning blue, offering up a robe. Merci looked down upon the frozen water as if it were a mirror, staring intently at the woman in corset, and undergarments. The blue hair, the bright eyes, the pale skin. It was as it should be. She turned and took the robe from the statues hand now, frozen in place as the temperature of the room plummeted. She admired the way the maids eyes glazed over.

Leaving the chamber she walked to her room opening a box she stared down at her prizes, the heart muscles arranged in neat rows, labels underlying each one. She reached her hand out and as her hand grew closer it began to pulse with a sickening sound waves of cold energy revitalizing the dead muscle. gently her hand alighted on it and treasured it like a pet, dried blood smearing on her hand. She breathed in deeply the smell of battle thick within this box. For the first time in a while one of the laces of her corset loosened a popping sound giving way. Her heart raced for a moment her breath came on faster then it passed as years of practice in control took over. Her mind pondered, as she ran her hand down to the loosened lacing, touching its softness she stared at it, perhaps it was sign...
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May destiny guide you...