The little AU: Rising Spring: Fill
The little AU: Rising Spring: Fill
slashfairy
~~
He takes long baths. Soaks in the water. Adds oils scented with lavender and herbs, uses lotioned soap. Washes his face wonderingly, the beard gone. Lets the water run over him for what feels like hours after he washes his hair. There's always a bottle of water to hand, these days, and never enough to fill him up. He lies there, floating, floating away in the heat.
He feels the water soak into him as though his skin were leather, and is slightly bemused to find, when he gets out, that it's just his skin, and the bath has not done anything to ease its dryness. He dries off with one of the deeply plush towels Orli bought, then oils up again before walking unclothed out into the bedroom.
The air's electric, the wind undecided if it carries warm air or cool; he stands in front of the window, about four feet back from it, and lets the wind play over him, dance on his skin, run its fingers gently over his hair. He catches the scent of ocean, of sage, and knows this wind's blown a long way to bring him these gifts, and he gathers them to him like treasures, and lets them go again, like prayers.
Downstairs someone's frying onions. Downstairs, someone's put on music, fed the dogs, opened a bottle of wine and poured him a glass. Downstairs someone waits for him to come back to earth from where he circles endlessly overhead, an eagle in search of a landing place, a feather in the wind.
Late in the night, after dinner, after sex, after kissing each of them on their brows as they sleep, he'll find himself in the big tub again, soaking, letting the water fill him even as he lets it leach away the ash left in him from that dry and ruined world. He finds his heart filled with joy at being alive, and tastes the rains of a thousand years in every drop of water that he drinks.
previously: Renew'd
next: Rest
slashfairy
~~
He takes long baths. Soaks in the water. Adds oils scented with lavender and herbs, uses lotioned soap. Washes his face wonderingly, the beard gone. Lets the water run over him for what feels like hours after he washes his hair. There's always a bottle of water to hand, these days, and never enough to fill him up. He lies there, floating, floating away in the heat.
He feels the water soak into him as though his skin were leather, and is slightly bemused to find, when he gets out, that it's just his skin, and the bath has not done anything to ease its dryness. He dries off with one of the deeply plush towels Orli bought, then oils up again before walking unclothed out into the bedroom.
The air's electric, the wind undecided if it carries warm air or cool; he stands in front of the window, about four feet back from it, and lets the wind play over him, dance on his skin, run its fingers gently over his hair. He catches the scent of ocean, of sage, and knows this wind's blown a long way to bring him these gifts, and he gathers them to him like treasures, and lets them go again, like prayers.
Downstairs someone's frying onions. Downstairs, someone's put on music, fed the dogs, opened a bottle of wine and poured him a glass. Downstairs someone waits for him to come back to earth from where he circles endlessly overhead, an eagle in search of a landing place, a feather in the wind.
Late in the night, after dinner, after sex, after kissing each of them on their brows as they sleep, he'll find himself in the big tub again, soaking, letting the water fill him even as he lets it leach away the ash left in him from that dry and ruined world. He finds his heart filled with joy at being alive, and tastes the rains of a thousand years in every drop of water that he drinks.
previously: Renew'd
next: Rest