Liliana Vess Defiant Necromancer

Wrapped around Liliana now with his head bowed toward her, Ignis faint chuckle reverberated against her shoulder. "Ah, yes," he murmured, "of course it all comes down to that blasted pony."

There was no trace of ire in his voice, only amusement and something far deeper, a fondness of sorts, though that seemed such a pale word. Even devotion didn't quite seem to cover it. But whatever it was, there was a moment where he kissed that favored spot, in that hollow before her elegant neck met her graceful collarbone, and there, followed by a sigh, he just held that moment.

Not for any grand stretch of time, though, barely lengthy at all, before he was drawing away, but only just enough to gently guide Liliana to turn his way. There was no waste in bringing their bodies pressed together again, with hand lifting to her cheek, in a mirroring of the positions there on the painting that proved the effectiveness of her description, only lips sought to meet lips, rather than just the cool flush of her cheek.

"You know I trust your eye for design implicitely, my love," he said, once lips departed lips again, albeit just barely.