Sweat - Part 1
Sweat
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Chapter: One
Word Count: 1,982
Rating: T (contains content not suitable for children)
Summary: It had a pungent, almost tangible odor. It could fill a room quickly, thicken the air around you and nearly choke you for breath. But it didn’t smell like your average sweat, of body odor, exertion and musk. It was very much a different breed; lightly musky, but vile, almost putrid, bring one to think of rot. It smelt of sickness.
Author’s Note: Hello everyone, I hope you’ve been well! I just wanted to give you a little info before diving into my next semi-large fanfiction project. I’m not going to give anything about the story away because I want you to enjoy the story. But I will say that this is still a work in progress, that doesn’t have nearly as much planning put into it that the Before The Fall series did. What does that mean for you, the reader? Unfortunately, updates won’t be as regular as you or I may like them. But I will try my hardest to not keep you waiting for long. This is a story that I do thoroughly enjoy, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. I’ll stop talking and let you get to reading. Please, let me know what you thought. Comments, concerns, what you liked, what needed improving. I appreciate every bit of insight that I can get!
(Start)
She remembered the sweat. It had a pungent, almost tangible odor. It could fill a room quickly, thicken the air around you and nearly choke you for breath. But it didn’t smell like your average sweat, of body odor, exertion and musk. It was very much a different breed; lightly musky, but vile, almost putrid, bring one to think of rot. It smelt of sickness.
She remembered wiping the sweat from her brow with a cool wet cloth, and the gentle smile she would receive from granting just the smallest amount of comfort. But no matter how often she dabbed, the sweat would return in less than a minute. Frustrated, worried, determined, she would dip the cloth in a bowl of cold water and wipe again.
She remembered the pale green eyes that would look up at her, some days stronger, some days weaker. They would always beseech her, tell her that she didn’t have to this, that she didn’t have to be there. The kindness in those eyes would reverberate through her body. She could feel it spread from her shoulders down into the tips of her fingers, spreading from her chest in all directions, reaching from her hips an spilling down her legs. It would was over her, humble her. And she would gently reply to those beautiful eyes that it was physically impossible for her to be or even desire to be anywhere else. And both their eyes would smile.
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