Following the compulsory searches for breakthrough scientific data in her subscribed communities, a crucial part of every possible venture off-island, Mimsy navigated to Google and pensively stared at the little blinking cursor. Her omnipresent curiosity had begun to take its toll again, and a search engine that was connected to the internet rather than the intranet of Deus Ex was a bit of a luxury in these cases. Losing the ability to comb the internet for explanations for the oftentimes bizarre and inexplicable behaviors of humans had been difficult in the beginning, so she tried to rely on it in moderation now, lest she unintentionally distance herself from willing assistance.
But just a few couldn't hurt, right?
In an entirely unsuspicious manner, she glanced over her shoulder (despite the complete lack of any sort of risk at all), and gently tapped her nails on the rough surface of the keys.
Might as well.
Though informative, the Wikipedia article was less helpful than she had hoped it might be, especially considering its focus on the honeymoon's apparent origins in encouraging fertility. Surely that was not why Robert suggested such an excursion; she felt confident that they they would have discussed the options that followed any attempt of that kind, as it was not one to be left to probability. Not out of the question, necessarily, but not like this.
There had to be something that she was still missing here. The newlywed tradition's origins were out of the question, and the suggestion that they might share 'private and intimate' moments to 'establish love' was rather ridiculous at this juncture. The very idea that love had not been established well before a wedding was a bit absurd. She had established its existence in their relationship before their relationship ever began, and there was significant evidence to prove that he had also established its presence. How could she trust the words of a stranger who validated such poor planning practices?
She sucked in a breath and exhaled through her teeth as she ventured towards the realm of dangerous specificity.
Book-reading. Beaches. Relaxation. Spa days. Generally nothing unpleasant, excepting the potential of someone else touching her. It seemed innocuous enough - so why did such strange implications continually arise in the sections of these sites where the ability to comment was present? The overwhelming majority seemed to imply that everyone knew what a honeymoon was for, which was quite frustrating from her current position.
She scrolled past a comment whose remarks included 'destroying the bed', immediately assuming the most literal possibility. Did room accommodations account for such things, when informed that a couple on their honeymoon would be staying with them? There was no mention of a tradition of this sort in the article, so why--
Oh.
Oh.
With her lips pressed into a thin line between concern and grave seriousness, she placed her palms on the edge of the table she'd been sitting at and pushed herself away from it. If this information was correct, it appeared that she had not properly prepared for the days following the wedding, and that was simply unacceptable.
Privacy be damned, she would succeed at this, for the sake of their marriage. She would just have to go back to the mall again, and triumph over undergarments through her own determination.
Without the golem of Allan this time.
