[Even as a giddy flutter stirs her heart at the warm curl of his arm, she makes a show of rolling her eyes with as much drama as she can muster. Which is less than usual, granted, given how much energy they've just expended.] Mm. Always so practical.
[Punctuated by a sip.] More efficient if we share, too.
[Sip, stop, and swirl, the impish sparkle of her eye fixed within the vortex of the water as it circles the glass. The tips of her tails twitch with understated amusement, the embers beneath her skin warming with her flirtation.] Though I'd say sharing it is the real luxury.
We'll see how efficient. [ In terms of sharing the hot water, efficiency is the name of the game. When it comes to actually washing off, he isn't sure how practical it will be. Or if they'll get distracted.
Judging from the brewing near-devilish glee he can feel warming her end of the tether, it's looking very likely they'll be side tracked. Her tails twitch in the same amused manner as the quirk of his mouth; the only other warning he gives her is: ] Hold onto your glass.
[ Before he shifts his weight to scoop an arm under her knees, the other already supporting her back, and lift her off the edge of the bed. While he's sure another few minutes would let her legs recover enough strength to make the trip on her own, this is more fun.
(And, well, he doesn't want the water to overflow. Too practical, as accused.)
It's a short walk to the bathroom, where he gently deposits her into the tub, eyeing the water level critically. Flipping the faucet off, he steps in after she gets her fluff situated, letting out a noise of shock from the heat. He leans back against the porcelain, folding his legs on either side of hers. ]
A bath in general feels like a luxury, to be honest. Even before the military, I always took fast showers instead.
[It's enough warning to follow his direction, but not enough for her to realize what's about to happen before she finds herself summarily scooped into Arthur's arms. A bubble of surprised delight escapes her in the form of a laugh; instinctively she curls smaller, closer, the reflex of someone who very much likes to be carried.
She's careful to hold the glass high and steady while he sets her down in the tub, though the heat is a bit of a shock to her too after the long cold months in Manhattan, causing a snap of tension in the moment before she adjusts to the temperature. It takes an additional moment to situate her tails comfortably; Aventurine has seen to it that this isn't the first time they've been washed, but she doesn't tend to submerge them. The warm water feels strangely heavy as it saturates her fur.
Such a distracting series of sensations that she almost forgets to ogle Arthur as he joins her. Almost. Her eyes linger at his lower abdomen, at the stretch of his thigh muscles as he steps in, and then...
They're in the bath. They're together, sharing a hot bath, in this Sleep-ravaged iteration of some place called America.
Only now does the full force of strangeness hit her; for a beat she regards him with simple wonder, his relaxation across from her in the tub and the easy situation of his limbs around her own. Then it's back to contemplating her glass of water (which she should probably finish before it gets too warm from the heat of the bath, but which gives her such a convenient thing to fidget with.)] I hated them for a while, actually. Baths.
[ In some ways, this is awkward. He's not used to having someone sharing a bath with him. Has really only shared a shower once or twice. There's a sense of deeper vulnerability he wasn't prepared to feel, upon stepping into the water. It doesn't matter if Kalmiya's seen him stark naked and in several variations of well-fucked—this is different.
From the look on her face, maybe she's going through a similar experience; faint surprise parts her lips before something like curious awe settles in. Maybe it's a testament to their connection, but he doesn't see the need to disrupt the strange quiet, letting himself sink into the lap of water around them. All the emotional discomfort he simply lets settle over his shoulders—it isn't a weight that strains. ]
Yeah? [ A gentle prompt, if she wants to explain. ]
[It is less than discomfort, but more than ease for Kalmiya. While this isn't the first time she's shared this kind of intimacy with someone, it's so far away from everything else she's accustomed to, so different in circumstance and purpose. It is both heartachingly familiar and thrillingly novel. At first she just gives a small hum of acknowledgment to his prompt, a soft mm that precedes a long pull from her glass.
The cool drink brings the heat and humidity into even sharper contrast. Grounding, in a way. It lifts some of the surreal haze from her senses and wakes her wandering mind.
Her answer comes with a slight tilt of the head and a gentle touch to his shin beneath the water, an exploratory anchoring of her fingertips. Touching him makes it easier to offer another piece of herself in this oddly vulnerable space, bridging the brief gap the quiet had left. The line her thumb begins to trace over his leg takes the place of the cup in her habit of idle motion; her ears turn outward, coming to rest more neutral as she elaborates with wistful resignation.] I...had to take them often. For religious reasons. Ritual cleansing.
[ Kalmiya drains more from her glass and he recognizes what's unsaid with her motion. Words roll around her tongue as surely as the water, a testing of their taste, of what she wants to let escape. Having already prompted her, he gives her the time to do so, soaking in the heat of the bath, the familiar rustle of her thoughts over the tether. For a few long moments, it's loud, a rushing wind rippling long grass and the leaves, creating a natural static.
Then it mutes, as her fingertips follow the line of his shin, oddly cool in the warmth of the water. The wind dies down, though it's clear the sounds of the forest are still disturbed in some way. Before he has the clarity of reason, he tilts his opposite leg inward, settling her ankle in the crux of his thigh, his palm curving to the delicate joint. He thinks, maybe, the touch will help the stormy shudder calm even further.
(And maybe the staccato tick of his own thoughts slow, a focused wind-down.)]
They bathed you? [ A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth; he supposes even if she did it on her own, it would feel exposing. Naked and yet still seen as something she didn't want to be, someone she wasn't. ]
[If she'd had any mind to retreat from this advance of information, that door is closed when he tucks her ankle in by his thigh, a tender reinforcement of the comfort she sought with the brush of her hand. Time feels slowed by the length of the interval at his ticking end of the tether, stretching longer as he, too, finds some comfort in this gesture.
Despite the bitterness of the recollection and the touch of a frown that finds his face, a hint of a smile tucks itself in at the side of her mouth. The pulse of fondness in her chest is echoed by the gentle squeeze of her hand where it rests atop his leg.
Though the memories are awash in sour hues, there is a distance from them that brings fuzziness to their edges and smooths away the most abrasive of the details. A distance well-earned through other moments of intimacy crafted carefully with the people she trusts—the people she loves. With that space afforded to her, her voice is absent any of that sick, sour color, though there's no escaping the note of sadness in the truth she speaks.] Mhm. One of the very few situations where other people were allowed to touch me.
[A huff, halfway between laugh and sigh.] Though they always wore gloves, so they never really touched me.
[ There's a reciprocal relief, when he gets the sense of her relaxing from the additional point of contact. So, he keeps it, trapping their body heat and that of the bath in the cup of his hand. Slowly, he strokes the pad of his thumb along the faint impression of tendons on the bridge of her foot, allowing the silence to lapse. ]
Allowed? [ He's disconcerted as much as he feels a spark of fury on her behalf, rebellion sitting just behind his teeth. ] They treated you like an object, not a person.
[ Amidst the flare of anger is a bitter disgust. And even further underneath, a miserable clarity as to why she's so outspoken against Sleep. Why her memory of that one room was that of emptiness, as gapingly hollow as the abyss she's built a path over.
It colors her initial lean in towards him over the tether, all those months ago, in a different light. ]
[Why does it always surprise her so, that the people who care about her share in her anger over her upbringing? They should be angry. Any sensible person would be. Somewhere within her, though, that lonely child still sits in cavernous rooms and cold hallways, always expecting to be the only one that Kalmiya can rely on, even when her conscious mind knows otherwise.
Her toes curl at the sensation atop her foot, something just shy of ticklish. The truth sits beneath her tongue, restless—uncomfortable, ungraceful, and yet eager to escape. Arthur's loyalty speaks for itself even when it hasn't been lit by his anger. He's never pressed even as he sat closer to her secrets than anyone ever has, always one errant thought away from learning more than she was ready to share. She loves him. He's safe. It would be better if he knew.
However, the full weight of it is more than she's willing to heap upon this fragile moment. She can't bear to darken this little pocket of warmth, this strange comfort that they've found. He's got enough of her tender spots to see to already.]
...I was important there, [she begins plaintively, a compromise with herself,] so I was a lot of things. Person was never really among them.
[Later, says the breath that follows. A silent assurance of trust, a promise to give him a better look at a less delicate time.
Then, as she so often does, she releases her hold on the weight she only hints at, lightening both her chest and the easy cadence of her voice as she pushes through.] Didn't have to bathe once I ran away, though. Couldn't have even if I'd wanted to, most of the time!
Their deity. Something to worship. [ Or perhaps a savior? To him, it's all the same end: placing a person on a pedestal. Making her out to be something she wasn't. He remembers her mirror towering over them, its eyes blank with searing brightness, its countenance filled with judgment and disgust. All meant to shame, to dangle her over a pit of guilt for the simple sin of wanting to be loved, not idolized.
That isn't the whole story, not at all, but she whispers later between them, like a promise. It's something he's said to himself many times, so he leaves it, giving her space. She'll tell him when she's ready, just like she's shared these pieces with him now.
When she brightens with partially forced lightness, he gives her ankle an affectionate squeeze, letting her steer the topic. ]
Not even a river bath? Or whatever the hell adventurers do. [ As if to help clear the tension further, he takes her calf in both hands, pressing his thumbs into the muscle to massage the remaining stiffness out. ]
[Of course. Arthur pays attention. He's got the general shape of it, and the less she has to spell out, the better. Even with practice, the process of unwrapping her most vulnerable parts is a clumsy one; anything that helps steady her hands for it is something to be grateful for. There is a smoothing sensation along the length of the tether, the comfort of being understood.
The directed pressure of his hands around her calf prompts a groan caught in the satisfying middle between pain and relief, a sufficient outside distraction from the upsetting details of her upbringing. She shuts her eyes and lets the cup of the tub at her back bear a little more of her weight as she sinks deeper into the water. It's been quite a while since someone went out of their way to loosen the inevitable knots of tension in her body, so she might as well get comfortable.
A heavy sigh follows her groan, paving the way for speech.] Rivers weren't easy to come by in that area. And I was very particular about exposing my body out in the open—I was afraid of what would happen if anyone saw what I actually was.
[Hence the bodysuit. Hence the helmet. Hence the absolute hatred of her mirror, unmistakably and resplendently divine to all who beheld it.]
[ A soothing sensation slides over their connection, akin to a sip of cocoa on a cold day. Without any words, he knows it's the shape of Kalmiya's gratefulness in his rough translations. Are they the whole picture? Not at all. But, he thinks they're close enough to the shape that she's spared having to sketch out the entire thing.
Just as she sets it aside, he does as well, concentrating on the sound she makes and the way she slouched further into the dip of the tub. With typical thoroughness, he digs into the knots of her calf muscle, encouraging them to loosen and be further relaxed by the hot water. ]
Aasimar are pretty rare, yeah? [ She hasn't said in so many words, but he could read between the lines. It clicks in even further: not only rare, but with their angelic-like appearance, it would be easy to mistake one for some holy entity. Something to worship. With her traveling, she hadn't wanted repeat of the place she'd fled from. ]
Understandable. Sometimes, you just want to blend in, by whatever means necessary. [ He comments with a thoughtful nod, moving his hands further up, towards her knee, and continuing to work the tension out. ]
Mhm. So if one were sighted after a prominent aasimar went missing from a nearby town... [It would have been so easy, too easy to find her. And knowing now that they were looking has vindicated all the paranoia and dread she felt in those first months, trying to go about her life while constantly looking over her shoulder.
She allows the implication to remain implied, and gives her toes another experimental wiggle. Still not terribly coordinated.
But as easily as she finds comfort with Arthur (in both physical and mental space,) she takes to the massage well. He's very attentive, and she has no inclination to hold on to any of the tension he's working out with his hands, as if she's letting it melt out into the water with each careful stroke.
Before getting too relaxed, she downs the last of her drink and gingerly sets the empty glass aside. With that need attended to, she can assume a properly lazy slouch, sinking down along her side of the tub until she can tip her head back against the edge with a relieved sigh. This also conveniently gives him easier access to more of her leg, her knee going up as her shoulders go down.]
I didn't exactly blend in. But nobody knew what to make of me. I could have been anybody.
[I could be me, drifts quietly along the tether, trailing that particular train of thought in the same way that a specter lingers with business unfinished.]
[ Kalmiya trails off, the end of her sentence so obvious that it hangs in the air, thick as the humidity clinging to their skin. It's easy enough to make the next logical leap: she'd felt hunted. Haunted, maybe. Just as there'd been a brush of understanding from her end, he reciprocates—while their reasons had been different, he knows what it's like to be on alert all the time. To be waiting for the other shoe to drop, to dread looking over his shoulder and finding all of his mistakes and past gaining ground.
He can't say he's any better about the paranoia, but he's learned to keep living anyway. Something he thinks Kalmiya's figured out as well, judging from how she flexes her toes and slumps further into the embrace of the bath. After drinking her water, anyway. But soon enough, she pillows her head on the edge of the tub, the line of her neck showing off all the marks he'd left earlier. And perhaps by design, he's able to reach more of her leg, palms slipping up to just above her knee and kneading into the tight muscle. ]
You could've. [ Just like he could have chosen to become a lawyer, a journalist, an accountant—anything under the sun, really. Both of them picked what they really wanted, though. ] But, you chose to be this.
[ He says with warmth, glancing up at her lounging form. ]
[She is in no state to question nor shy away from the affection in Arthur's words. It seems a wonderfully synchronous feeling when she's already surrounded by so much warmth—soaking in it, breathing it in, absorbing it from every press of his palms into her thigh. It's easy to let his voice join that comforting flow.
The feeling pools somewhere in her chest, and she would be hard pressed to tell whether it's Arthur's affection or her own.
There is another short, satisfied sound at the back of her throat as he works a knot free, preceding a sage chuckle.] I choose it every day.
Sometimes it's hard to find, and sometimes I don't know what it means. But it's worth it, don't you think?
[Arthur said himself, when confronted with her mirror, that people spend their entire lives trying to figure themselves out. She might have more to figure out than most people she's met—but that means more opportunity to discover something new, too.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2026-02-12 03:44 am (UTC)[Punctuated by a sip.] More efficient if we share, too.
[Sip, stop, and swirl, the impish sparkle of her eye fixed within the vortex of the water as it circles the glass. The tips of her tails twitch with understated amusement, the embers beneath her skin warming with her flirtation.] Though I'd say sharing it is the real luxury.
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Date: 2026-02-12 11:36 pm (UTC)Judging from the brewing near-devilish glee he can feel warming her end of the tether, it's looking very likely they'll be side tracked. Her tails twitch in the same amused manner as the quirk of his mouth; the only other warning he gives her is: ] Hold onto your glass.
[ Before he shifts his weight to scoop an arm under her knees, the other already supporting her back, and lift her off the edge of the bed. While he's sure another few minutes would let her legs recover enough strength to make the trip on her own, this is more fun.
(And, well, he doesn't want the water to overflow. Too practical, as accused.)
It's a short walk to the bathroom, where he gently deposits her into the tub, eyeing the water level critically. Flipping the faucet off, he steps in after she gets her fluff situated, letting out a noise of shock from the heat. He leans back against the porcelain, folding his legs on either side of hers. ]
A bath in general feels like a luxury, to be honest. Even before the military, I always took fast showers instead.
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Date: 2026-02-13 12:02 am (UTC)She's careful to hold the glass high and steady while he sets her down in the tub, though the heat is a bit of a shock to her too after the long cold months in Manhattan, causing a snap of tension in the moment before she adjusts to the temperature. It takes an additional moment to situate her tails comfortably; Aventurine has seen to it that this isn't the first time they've been washed, but she doesn't tend to submerge them. The warm water feels strangely heavy as it saturates her fur.
Such a distracting series of sensations that she almost forgets to ogle Arthur as he joins her. Almost. Her eyes linger at his lower abdomen, at the stretch of his thigh muscles as he steps in, and then...
They're in the bath. They're together, sharing a hot bath, in this Sleep-ravaged iteration of some place called America.
Only now does the full force of strangeness hit her; for a beat she regards him with simple wonder, his relaxation across from her in the tub and the easy situation of his limbs around her own. Then it's back to contemplating her glass of water (which she should probably finish before it gets too warm from the heat of the bath, but which gives her such a convenient thing to fidget with.)] I hated them for a while, actually. Baths.
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Date: 2026-02-13 01:37 am (UTC)From the look on her face, maybe she's going through a similar experience; faint surprise parts her lips before something like curious awe settles in. Maybe it's a testament to their connection, but he doesn't see the need to disrupt the strange quiet, letting himself sink into the lap of water around them. All the emotional discomfort he simply lets settle over his shoulders—it isn't a weight that strains. ]
Yeah? [ A gentle prompt, if she wants to explain. ]
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Date: 2026-02-13 02:17 am (UTC)The cool drink brings the heat and humidity into even sharper contrast. Grounding, in a way. It lifts some of the surreal haze from her senses and wakes her wandering mind.
Her answer comes with a slight tilt of the head and a gentle touch to his shin beneath the water, an exploratory anchoring of her fingertips. Touching him makes it easier to offer another piece of herself in this oddly vulnerable space, bridging the brief gap the quiet had left. The line her thumb begins to trace over his leg takes the place of the cup in her habit of idle motion; her ears turn outward, coming to rest more neutral as she elaborates with wistful resignation.] I...had to take them often. For religious reasons. Ritual cleansing.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-13 02:50 am (UTC)Then it mutes, as her fingertips follow the line of his shin, oddly cool in the warmth of the water. The wind dies down, though it's clear the sounds of the forest are still disturbed in some way. Before he has the clarity of reason, he tilts his opposite leg inward, settling her ankle in the crux of his thigh, his palm curving to the delicate joint. He thinks, maybe, the touch will help the stormy shudder calm even further.
(And maybe the staccato tick of his own thoughts slow, a focused wind-down.)]
They bathed you? [ A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth; he supposes even if she did it on her own, it would feel exposing. Naked and yet still seen as something she didn't want to be, someone she wasn't. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-13 03:38 am (UTC)Despite the bitterness of the recollection and the touch of a frown that finds his face, a hint of a smile tucks itself in at the side of her mouth. The pulse of fondness in her chest is echoed by the gentle squeeze of her hand where it rests atop his leg.
Though the memories are awash in sour hues, there is a distance from them that brings fuzziness to their edges and smooths away the most abrasive of the details. A distance well-earned through other moments of intimacy crafted carefully with the people she trusts—the people she loves. With that space afforded to her, her voice is absent any of that sick, sour color, though there's no escaping the note of sadness in the truth she speaks.] Mhm. One of the very few situations where other people were allowed to touch me.
[A huff, halfway between laugh and sigh.] Though they always wore gloves, so they never really touched me.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-13 04:13 am (UTC)Allowed? [ He's disconcerted as much as he feels a spark of fury on her behalf, rebellion sitting just behind his teeth. ] They treated you like an object, not a person.
[ Amidst the flare of anger is a bitter disgust. And even further underneath, a miserable clarity as to why she's so outspoken against Sleep. Why her memory of that one room was that of emptiness, as gapingly hollow as the abyss she's built a path over.
It colors her initial lean in towards him over the tether, all those months ago, in a different light. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-14 05:15 am (UTC)Her toes curl at the sensation atop her foot, something just shy of ticklish. The truth sits beneath her tongue, restless—uncomfortable, ungraceful, and yet eager to escape. Arthur's loyalty speaks for itself even when it hasn't been lit by his anger. He's never pressed even as he sat closer to her secrets than anyone ever has, always one errant thought away from learning more than she was ready to share. She loves him. He's safe. It would be better if he knew.
However, the full weight of it is more than she's willing to heap upon this fragile moment. She can't bear to darken this little pocket of warmth, this strange comfort that they've found. He's got enough of her tender spots to see to already.]
...I was important there, [she begins plaintively, a compromise with herself,] so I was a lot of things. Person was never really among them.
[Later, says the breath that follows. A silent assurance of trust, a promise to give him a better look at a less delicate time.
Then, as she so often does, she releases her hold on the weight she only hints at, lightening both her chest and the easy cadence of her voice as she pushes through.] Didn't have to bathe once I ran away, though. Couldn't have even if I'd wanted to, most of the time!
no subject
Date: 2026-02-15 03:15 am (UTC)That isn't the whole story, not at all, but she whispers later between them, like a promise. It's something he's said to himself many times, so he leaves it, giving her space. She'll tell him when she's ready, just like she's shared these pieces with him now.
When she brightens with partially forced lightness, he gives her ankle an affectionate squeeze, letting her steer the topic. ]
Not even a river bath? Or whatever the hell adventurers do. [ As if to help clear the tension further, he takes her calf in both hands, pressing his thumbs into the muscle to massage the remaining stiffness out. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-18 05:51 am (UTC)The directed pressure of his hands around her calf prompts a groan caught in the satisfying middle between pain and relief, a sufficient outside distraction from the upsetting details of her upbringing. She shuts her eyes and lets the cup of the tub at her back bear a little more of her weight as she sinks deeper into the water. It's been quite a while since someone went out of their way to loosen the inevitable knots of tension in her body, so she might as well get comfortable.
A heavy sigh follows her groan, paving the way for speech.] Rivers weren't easy to come by in that area. And I was very particular about exposing my body out in the open—I was afraid of what would happen if anyone saw what I actually was.
[Hence the bodysuit. Hence the helmet. Hence the absolute hatred of her mirror, unmistakably and resplendently divine to all who beheld it.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-21 05:05 am (UTC)Just as she sets it aside, he does as well, concentrating on the sound she makes and the way she slouched further into the dip of the tub. With typical thoroughness, he digs into the knots of her calf muscle, encouraging them to loosen and be further relaxed by the hot water. ]
Aasimar are pretty rare, yeah? [ She hasn't said in so many words, but he could read between the lines. It clicks in even further: not only rare, but with their angelic-like appearance, it would be easy to mistake one for some holy entity. Something to worship. With her traveling, she hadn't wanted repeat of the place she'd fled from. ]
Understandable. Sometimes, you just want to blend in, by whatever means necessary. [ He comments with a thoughtful nod, moving his hands further up, towards her knee, and continuing to work the tension out. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-21 06:20 am (UTC)She allows the implication to remain implied, and gives her toes another experimental wiggle. Still not terribly coordinated.
But as easily as she finds comfort with Arthur (in both physical and mental space,) she takes to the massage well. He's very attentive, and she has no inclination to hold on to any of the tension he's working out with his hands, as if she's letting it melt out into the water with each careful stroke.
Before getting too relaxed, she downs the last of her drink and gingerly sets the empty glass aside. With that need attended to, she can assume a properly lazy slouch, sinking down along her side of the tub until she can tip her head back against the edge with a relieved sigh. This also conveniently gives him easier access to more of her leg, her knee going up as her shoulders go down.]
I didn't exactly blend in. But nobody knew what to make of me. I could have been anybody.
[I could be me, drifts quietly along the tether, trailing that particular train of thought in the same way that a specter lingers with business unfinished.]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-21 08:32 am (UTC)He can't say he's any better about the paranoia, but he's learned to keep living anyway. Something he thinks Kalmiya's figured out as well, judging from how she flexes her toes and slumps further into the embrace of the bath. After drinking her water, anyway. But soon enough, she pillows her head on the edge of the tub, the line of her neck showing off all the marks he'd left earlier. And perhaps by design, he's able to reach more of her leg, palms slipping up to just above her knee and kneading into the tight muscle. ]
You could've. [ Just like he could have chosen to become a lawyer, a journalist, an accountant—anything under the sun, really. Both of them picked what they really wanted, though. ] But, you chose to be this.
[ He says with warmth, glancing up at her lounging form. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-25 03:37 am (UTC)The feeling pools somewhere in her chest, and she would be hard pressed to tell whether it's Arthur's affection or her own.
There is another short, satisfied sound at the back of her throat as he works a knot free, preceding a sage chuckle.] I choose it every day.
Sometimes it's hard to find, and sometimes I don't know what it means. But it's worth it, don't you think?
[Arthur said himself, when confronted with her mirror, that people spend their entire lives trying to figure themselves out. She might have more to figure out than most people she's met—but that means more opportunity to discover something new, too.]