Azar waited for her to take a seat, grasping her by the chin and tilting her face at different angles to study her skin and pores. He first grabbed some moisturizer and spread it out over her face, gently rubbing it into her skin. Ilyan’s suggestion was largely ignored as Azar focused on getting her ready, “Close your eyes,” He said as he began to apply a gold hue to her lids, gingerly brushing over the crease of her eyes with a darker shade. He grabbed kohl, “This is made from crushed beatles from the far valleys beyond the city of Ur,” He explained, showing her the jet blank ink that was as pure as kohl came.
He reached for one of her blades, gingerly placing it against an eye to perfectly etch the eyeliner past her crease. Through it all, he was dangerously close, his face merely inches from hers as he worked his artistic perfection, “This face of yours was not meant to only be dolled up just for a wedding day,” He said as he dusted a light blush across her cheeks that complemented her skin, “This was made from the ochre collected near the valley of the Dark Lords from Moraband,” He said before he grazed a thumb across her lower lip.
Her lips were tinted with a subtle gold that complemented her skin. Azar stepped away to gesture for her to look in the mirror. She would hardly recognize herself, transformed into royalty of the highest order. Azar stepped behind her, gently brushing her hair. He reached around from behind, his fingers curling against the underside of her jaw to tilt her head up enough to give her a dignified and regal posture, “Queen Ilyan Kressh,” He whispered as he gazed at her reflection with a smile.
Azar gently grasped the towel from her torso, letting slip away to reveal her body. He stepped away briefly to hold up a dress he had tailored for her by Iymril, “Come, let me dress you,” Azar offered.