Caldar looked up at the woman standing in the doorway. His<span style="font-style: italic">wife-to-be</span>. He scowled at the thought, sitting up as best he could to look over her properly. It's not that<span style="font-style: italic">she</span>was the problem, he thought she was quite pretty actually, a little too fancy for his books but they came from different cultures. He wanted to choose his own wife, to "fall in love" with who he wanted to, when he wanted to. This whole arranged marriage would be doomed from the start, how could he just be forced to love someone he doesn't even know. What if they hated each other? Was that what he had to look forward to?<br/><br/>He stood up, the slash now fully on show for her to see. Though he didn't step forward, he turned to his wardrobe to pull out some of the fancier clothes his mother had bought him for these kinds of occasions.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"You can't always walk around in next to nothing. It's not proper."</span>Eira had said to him. She never was like the rest of his family, too formal for Wralkar.<br/><br/>"It's fine." He replied, throwing some clothes onto the bed and shutting the wardrobe. He moved to walk out of the door, though Esther was in the way. He simply stared down at her. "Unless you want to bath me too, I suggest you return to my family." He stated.