Welcome to Pub & Scrub!
"Welcome to Pub & Scrub!" a goblin girl said, flashing Diederich a toothy grin. "For the thirsty adventurer in need of a good bath! And that's all of 'em! Pub door on my right, Bath door on my left! Pet and mount scrub on the other side of the building! Got any questions?"
"Nah, pretty self-explanatory," Diederich grunted, and headed to the Baths.
Pub & Scrub was a little goblin establishment he'd found not far from the Undercity. They seemed to be catering especially to the homesick Blood Elf crowd. Something about the Undercity seemed to inspire in Blood Elves a deep longing for a really thorough bath and a stiff drink.
To his ENORMOUS relief, it was not a goblin who appeared to attend to his bath. It was a pretty Blood Elf, honey-blonde hair tied back in a long, sleek ponytail - very tidy unlike Diederich's ponytail which was artfully messy with its little upturned spikes of shorter hair and loose tendrils.
"Do you prefer a sudsy bath, sir?" the young man asked.
"Yes."
"I'll draw it now, sir. Please choose the scents you prefer."
Light Above, I've missed a little luxury, Diederich thought, uncorking and smelling bottles of scented oil. His former life had been so different than things were now.
Diederich set out the pine oil and the sandalwood and then leaned back in a chair, closed his eyes, and was soothed by the sound of running water and the young man's quiet preparations. He was nearly napping when he felt the young man, knelt in front of him, unbuckling his tall, metal-plated leather boots.
"What's your name?"
"Augusten, sir."
Boots removed, Diederich stood so Augusten could remove the rest of his clothes and armor. To his credit, Augusten seemed completely unfazed by Diederich's... condition.
"This way, sir," he said politely.
Diederich eased himself into the hot bath water, engulfed in the inches of soft foam on top. Augusten knelt beside the sunken tub.
"May I have your hand, please?"
Diederich offered his hand and waited for the grimace of disgust, but Augusten took his hand and his only scowl of disapproval seemed directed at Diederich's unkempt fingernails.
"You seem awfully unperturbed by undead flesh," Diederich commented lazily, deeply relaxed by the hot water.
"I do work less than five kilometers from the Undercity," Augusten commented back with a raised eyebrow.
Diederich laughed softly. "Point."
Diederich still felt self-conscious as Augusten massaged his hand with the scented oil. Keeping one's hands well-groomed was a point of pride among most Blood Elves, and to have a Blood Elf see the mess his hands had become... He'd totally given up on grooming them. His hands were tough and black with deep frostbite, and the tips of his fingers were shriveled and bony. His fingernails were black from the dead black flesh underneath, but the tips which protruded out from his nail beds were startlingly white. Since he no longer cared for them, they were all different lengths and jagged from growing long and snapping off.
It felt odd to have someone care for his ugly hands. Ever since he'd woken from the Lich King's control, he'd considered them unworthy of the effort. The massage, though well-intended, was pointless considering how little feeling he had in his hands. He did wonder if the moisturizing oil would make his dead flesh softer.
~t.b.c.~
"Nah, pretty self-explanatory," Diederich grunted, and headed to the Baths.
Pub & Scrub was a little goblin establishment he'd found not far from the Undercity. They seemed to be catering especially to the homesick Blood Elf crowd. Something about the Undercity seemed to inspire in Blood Elves a deep longing for a really thorough bath and a stiff drink.
To his ENORMOUS relief, it was not a goblin who appeared to attend to his bath. It was a pretty Blood Elf, honey-blonde hair tied back in a long, sleek ponytail - very tidy unlike Diederich's ponytail which was artfully messy with its little upturned spikes of shorter hair and loose tendrils.
"Do you prefer a sudsy bath, sir?" the young man asked.
"Yes."
"I'll draw it now, sir. Please choose the scents you prefer."
Light Above, I've missed a little luxury, Diederich thought, uncorking and smelling bottles of scented oil. His former life had been so different than things were now.
Diederich set out the pine oil and the sandalwood and then leaned back in a chair, closed his eyes, and was soothed by the sound of running water and the young man's quiet preparations. He was nearly napping when he felt the young man, knelt in front of him, unbuckling his tall, metal-plated leather boots.
"What's your name?"
"Augusten, sir."
Boots removed, Diederich stood so Augusten could remove the rest of his clothes and armor. To his credit, Augusten seemed completely unfazed by Diederich's... condition.
"This way, sir," he said politely.
Diederich eased himself into the hot bath water, engulfed in the inches of soft foam on top. Augusten knelt beside the sunken tub.
"May I have your hand, please?"
Diederich offered his hand and waited for the grimace of disgust, but Augusten took his hand and his only scowl of disapproval seemed directed at Diederich's unkempt fingernails.
"You seem awfully unperturbed by undead flesh," Diederich commented lazily, deeply relaxed by the hot water.
"I do work less than five kilometers from the Undercity," Augusten commented back with a raised eyebrow.
Diederich laughed softly. "Point."
Diederich still felt self-conscious as Augusten massaged his hand with the scented oil. Keeping one's hands well-groomed was a point of pride among most Blood Elves, and to have a Blood Elf see the mess his hands had become... He'd totally given up on grooming them. His hands were tough and black with deep frostbite, and the tips of his fingers were shriveled and bony. His fingernails were black from the dead black flesh underneath, but the tips which protruded out from his nail beds were startlingly white. Since he no longer cared for them, they were all different lengths and jagged from growing long and snapping off.
It felt odd to have someone care for his ugly hands. Ever since he'd woken from the Lich King's control, he'd considered them unworthy of the effort. The massage, though well-intended, was pointless considering how little feeling he had in his hands. He did wonder if the moisturizing oil would make his dead flesh softer.
~t.b.c.~