"thick, heavy air full of warm wet earth smells." - Deaths, the brotherstaennynAugust 5 2010, 23:30:21 UTC
"Okay, that's it--" Edmund groaned as he came inside and collapsed on the tiles. "No more campaigns in Italy in the middle of summer."
Eduard stepped over him without looking, intent on a parchment map and the amphora of water lurking in the cellar. "It rained yesterday," he remembered aloud when he got back upstairs, hands full with pitchers of cool water.
"It didn't help," Edmund replied, peeling himself off the tile to receive one of the pitchers and take a long swallow from it, not even bothering with ladle or cup, "now the earth is steaming."
"We could go kill someone with an ice house?"
Edmund gave him a look, then visibly restrained himself. "Not just for the ice house."
"When do I ever kill someone just for their ice house?" Eduard retorted, sitting down on the cool-ish tiles by the inner wall and ladling himself a cupful of water, which he poured over his own head, then ladled another, which he drank.
"This summer might break that record," Edmund said, splashing himself liberally with his own water and lying back down. His clothes did, in fact, appear to be steaming gently in the thick air of the afternoon.
"No it won't," Eduard said as he finished his third cup of water.
Eduard stepped over him without looking, intent on a parchment map and the amphora of water lurking in the cellar. "It rained yesterday," he remembered aloud when he got back upstairs, hands full with pitchers of cool water.
"It didn't help," Edmund replied, peeling himself off the tile to receive one of the pitchers and take a long swallow from it, not even bothering with ladle or cup, "now the earth is steaming."
"We could go kill someone with an ice house?"
Edmund gave him a look, then visibly restrained himself. "Not just for the ice house."
"When do I ever kill someone just for their ice house?" Eduard retorted, sitting down on the cool-ish tiles by the inner wall and ladling himself a cupful of water, which he poured over his own head, then ladled another, which he drank.
"This summer might break that record," Edmund said, splashing himself liberally with his own water and lying back down. His clothes did, in fact, appear to be steaming gently in the thick air of the afternoon.
"No it won't," Eduard said as he finished his third cup of water.
Edmund opened one eye to look at him. "Bet?"
"... No."
"Thought not."
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Historical precedent does not negate future potential.
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