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haebinHey hey, everyone! I hope you are doing fine. ♥
I am sorry for not posting last week but life was hectic and overwhelming, but it (thankfully) calmed down a little bit. That means, I was finally able to write again.
Here is my next chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it.
Since the early morning, Anwyn worked tirelessly on the daily chores she had to do. Even before the sun rose in the sky and the cock began to crow to greet the morning, Anwyn got up quietly, left her sleeping place and the house, careful not to make any noise so as not to wake her father. Her path led her across the courtyard, along the wall to the spring where she washed herself thoroughly and changed her clothes. Sometimes she allowed herself a moment of rest and sat on the meadow with her knees drawn up, listening to the waves or the sounds of the night as she stared up at the night sky.
Her standard of living had improved with the acquisition of the animals and the planting of several beds, but the daily work had also increased. When she sank exhausted onto her bed in the evening, it only took a few breaths before she was fast asleep.
Anwyn had already prepared breakfast for her father and herself, swept the house and the yard, washed the used dishes and laundry.
She had watered and weeded the beds, mucked out the stable and fed the animals. Now she was about to tip a bucket of turnips, carrots, potatoes, some fruit and stale bread into the enclosure with the pigs so that they could forage and rummage on the ground.
The enclosure was big enough to keep the pigs, the donkey and the goats together.
With a smile, Anwyn watched as the small group of pigs ran to their rich meal, grunting excitedly and munching on the fruit and vegetables.
In front of the enclosure were two new wooden buckets which she grabbed and headed towards the spring to fill with fresh spring water which she would then pour into the enclosure's drinking trough.
As Anwyn walked through the yard, she thought of the many days she had spent together with Ulthred and Conall. She had to admit to herself that she missed the two half-elves in her presence and now considered them as friends. Trálír often told her how they were doing and how many times they asked about her well-being and how she and her father were doing.
Since her childhood, there had only been her father and herself, the daily fishing and hard work. There had never been a single day of peace and quiet. She had never had any friends, neither in her childhood nor in her youth.
Anwyn had never missed them because she had never known the feeling of friendship and close ties.
There were the odd conversations in the village when she went to the market, but even there she was always aware that they were not part of the village community. There were often moments when she wondered why, but she had never found an answer.
Now that she had gotten to know Trálír and the two half-elves and her life had been enriched by their presence, she felt their absence even more.
Every moment that the high elf was not by her side, Anwyn felt as if a part of herself was missing. She felt safe and understood in Trálír's closeness, sure, that his feelings for her were genuine.
It was not always easy for Anwyn to wait for his arrival, as she never knew when he would reach the farm and how much time they could spend together, but she enjoyed every single second in his presence.
With a sigh, Anwyn lowered the buckets into the water, filled them and then pulled them back out with a groan. Her arms burned from the heavy weight of the full buckets in her hands and her back ached from the strain as she walked back to the courtyard.
As Anwyn set the buckets down to open the yard gate, she heard the whinny of Arod not far from her and she turned around in delight.
“Trálír!” she exclaimed, raising her hand in greeting and watching as the elf, sitting tall on his stallion, approached the courtyard.
Anwyn's gaze slid to his face and the smile on her lips faded when she saw his expression.
The blue-green eyes that always reminded her of the churning sea looked dark gray with anger. She saw something wild and unrestrained in them and her throat tightened subconsciously. Uncertain, she watched as Trálír rode into the courtyard without a word of greeting, swung himself out of the saddle and led the stallion into the stable without giving her a glance.
Anwyn still stood at the gate, the two buckets filled with water beside her, not knowing what to do, say or think. Hesitantly, she watched as Trálír stepped out of the stable, closed the gate and turned in her direction, his eyes still filled with anger.
As their gazes crossed, the anger faded from Trálír's eyes, which then felt empty. His shoulders slumped, he breathed heavily and closed his eyes. His expression looked tortured.
Anwyn stepped through the gate and walked slowly towards him.
He looks so lost, she thought sadly, and the next moment she noticed his bloodied hands. Horror spread through Anwyn and she ran towards him, placing her hands carefully on his face, her voice full of concern.
“By the gods, Trálír, have you been attacked? Are you hurt?” Anwyn asked, barely able to suppress the rising panic in her voice. Her gaze slid over his face to his neck, his chest, his arms. Then her hands gently followed the previous gaze and slid from his face to his shoulders, carefully scanning him for injuries. She saw a few bloodstains on the light-colored fabric of his tunic as she heard him say softly, “It's not my blood, Anwyn.”
She looked up at him, frowned questioningly and waited for Trálír to continue.
“We had combat training in the castle.”
“Are they asking you to to punch the walls with your fists?” Anwyn asked, noticing that her voice was trembling slightly. She took his hands in hers and examined them closely. The skin on the knuckles was red, swollen and burst open, but Anwyn could not see a deeper injury.
“It's my opponent's blood,” Trálír explained quietly, a hint of regret in his voice. Anwyn looked at him questioningly with wide eyes, but he avoided her gaze.
She sensed that something had happened, something unexpected, that got to him.
Something that he couldn't put into words ... or didn't want to.
„I’ll first soak your tunic and pants to remove the blood and while that will take until the next morning, I’ll take care of your hands immediately”, Anwyn said and saw Trálír nod slowly. Her gaze softened and she gently stroked his wrist with her fingertips.
“Wait for me at the spring, Trálír, I will follow,” she said in a gentle voice and watched as he nodded once more, turned slowly and walked towards the stream. His usually tall body and confident gait were unrecognizable on him, his shoulders dropped and his steps were almost dragging.
Anwyn went to the gate, took the two full buckets in her hands and poured the water into the drinking trough of the pig enclosure. She placed one bucket against the fence and took the other with her as she walked to the entrance of the cellar and opened it. Anwyn walked down the few stairs in the dark in absolute safety, having memorized the way down since she was a child. Even in her sleep, she would have had no trouble finding her way down to the basement. She went to a large wooden barrel that stood in the back corner, opened it and poured the contents into the bucket with a small shovel. With water, this would make a strong brine that would make it easier for Anwyn to wash the blood out of Trálír's clothes after they had been soaking in the salt water mixture overnight.
She left the cellar, put the full bucket of salt water in front of the door and went into the house, took a pair of trousers and an old shirt from her father's clothes chest, then grabbed a small bar of gall soap, some alcohol, a brew of marigold tea and some thin strips of cloth as bandages and put them in her wicker basket that stood next to her bed.
Carrying the basket in her left hand and the full bucket in her right, Anwyn walked to the spring. Trálír sat lost in thought on the meadow, his eyes closed, but when he heard her approaching, he opened them and looked in her direction. There was a faint smile on his lips, but in his eyes she saw a deep insecurity that pained her. What had happened to upset him so much?
Trálír looked up at her when she reached him and put down the bucket and the wicker basket.
“I need to put your clothes in a brine for the night so I can wash the blood out in the morning,” she explained to him. “I've chosen you a pair of pants and an old tunic from my father. It may be a little tight around the chest, but it will be enough so that you don't have to return to the castle naked.”
At her words, a slight smirk appeared on Trálír's lips and an amused twinkle could be seen in his eyes.
“After that, I'll take care of your bruised hands. It's better if I treat them with some marigold decoction and bandage them.”
“Is that really necessary?” Trálír asked, looking at Anwyn skeptically.
“Well, we can just ignore it and wait for some dirt to settle, the wounds to become infected and gangrene to cost you your fingers and then your hands.”
“Very well, I understand,” Trálír replied resignedly and Anwyn nodded in satisfaction.
“Now get rid of your clothes, hand them to me and get into the water.”
Trálír raised a dark eyebrow. “And why should I do that?” he asked curiously, the tone of his voice deepening and taking on a velvety undertone.
“Because I tell you to,” was Anwyn's unequivocal answer and she tried to ignore the elf's seductive tone. She put her hands on her hips, gave him a stern look and Trálír stifled the rising chuckle he felt in his throat.
“So be it,” he said, reaching for the edge of his tunic and taking it off with a deft movement of his hand. He let it fall carelessly to the ground, his gaze fixed on Anwyn, who looked at him wordlessly. But he noticed how her chest rose and fell a little faster than it had a few moments before.
Her big brown eyes were glued to the body before her.
Trálír was muscular, his stomach and arms toned and Anwyn couldn't look away.
He leaned forward a little, removed his boots and slowly undid his breeches, loosened the laces. With a seductive smile, he pushed the fabric of his pants to his ankles and then stepped out of them, leaving him standing in front of her in just his underpants.
“And now?” he asked in an amused voice and watched as Anwyn slowly pointed to the spring with her hand.
“To ... to the Water,” she whispered and quickly bent over to grab his clothes and press them against her upper body. With a grin, Trálír turned around and walked into the lukewarm stream. The water flowing directly from the spring was cool and refreshing and mixed with the almost stagnant water that had slowly warmed up since the morning. Trálír walked slowly through the warm water, breathing in and out deeply, feeling how his body relaxed, how the restlessness that had held him in its grip for what felt like an eternity slowly receded from him. He dipped his hands into the warm water and felt the stinging pain of his abraded skin, which reminded him of what had happened. Trálír felt the remorse again, the anger, the helplessness, all these feelings intensified in just one breath and threatened to take him over, to overwhelm him. So he turned around and looked for Anwyn, whom he saw standing right by the spring. She held the bucket underneath, filled it with clear water and then placed it on the meadow. She dipped her right hand into the water and mixed it intently with the salt lying on the bottom before grabbing his shirt and trousers and placing them in the brine.
Anwyn straightened up and her eyes met Trálír's.
When he saw that she was also reaching for the edge of her dress, he felt his heart literally stumble in his chest.
He watched wide-eyed as Anwyn pulled her dress up, causing her tight undergarment underneath to ride up as well, revealing her bare thighs and underpants. Open-mouthed, Trálír stared at the soft curve of her hips, the bare skin of her belly and the base of her breasts when suddenly the undergarment detached itself from the fabric and slid back over her body, hiding it just below her buttocks.
“What are you up to?” Trálír's voice was hoarse as he stared at Anwyn, but the next moment he remembered to take a few steps into deeper water to hide his growing erection, which was clearly visible against the fabric of his underpants. He gulped as he watched Anwyn walk slowly through the grass to the shore, a mixture of sand and small pebbles. It was impossible for him to take his eyes off Anwyn for a single moment as she walked through the pleasantly warm water with a tender smile on her lips until she stood in front of him and looked up at him.
“Would you allow me to wash you?” she asked in a whisper and he recognized uncertainty in her voice and her warm, brown eyes. She wasn't sure whether he would allow her to get so close, even though they had already experienced a few moments of deep passion. Nevertheless, it was a new kind of intimacy, a new kind of affection for each other.
“Yes ... yes, of course,” Trálír replied with a nod and tried to cover his emerging nervousness with an embarrassed smile. He was standing in water up to his loins and as Anwyn was slightly shorter than him, she walked around him until the water reached just below her chest.
Biting his lower lip nervously, Trálír waited to see what would happen next and when he felt Anwyn's hands on his shoulders, his heart raced so hard he could almost hear it pounding in his ears. He breathed in and out deeply, but unconsciously tensed at Anwyn's touch. With a small bar of soap, one of Anwyn's hands slid over his shoulders while she used her other hand to move his hair, which was tied at the nape of his neck, forward over his shoulder.
Trálír closed his eyes with pleasure, breathed in and out deeply of the salty sea air and concentrated on the circular, gentle movements with which Anwyn, standing behind him, soaped his skin. As she glided her fingertips along his spine, Trálír felt the tension in his body weaken and he surrendered completely to the touch of his beloved. His chin sank to his chest and Anwyn let her fingertips glide with gentle pressure over his vertebrae to his neck, massaging the skin and muscles there with slow, circular movements.
Then he felt her open the leather band that held his hair together and she slid it over his back with a gentle movement.
In her left hand Anwyn held the bar of soap, while with her right hand she scooped up water several times, wetting Trálír's long hair so that she lathered it with the soap. He suddenly felt her move away from him and glanced over his shoulder in surprise, only to see that she had taken a few steps towards the shore to put the soap down. He quickly turned around again so that Anwyn would not see that her absence had aroused his curiosity. And only moments later he felt her hands in his long, heavy hair. A sigh slipped over his lips as Anwyn ran her fingers in circles over his scalp, working the soap lather into his hair.
It felt like an eternity for Trálír to feel Anwyn's skillful movements on his skin, his hair, and could have gone on for eons. He felt a sense of loss as she began to wash the soap scum from his hair, cupping the lukewarm water in her hands again and again. A moment later, Trálír felt her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down and he understood that he should dive under to wash the remaining lather from his hair. Closing his eyes, the high elf took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, his hands in his long hair, and when he surfaced, he shook himself like a wet dog who wanted to dry his fur. Surprise was on his face when he opened his eyes again and saw a smiling Anwyn standing in front of him, only a few handbreadths away.
I am sorry for not posting last week but life was hectic and overwhelming, but it (thankfully) calmed down a little bit. That means, I was finally able to write again.
Here is my next chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it.
Since the early morning, Anwyn worked tirelessly on the daily chores she had to do. Even before the sun rose in the sky and the cock began to crow to greet the morning, Anwyn got up quietly, left her sleeping place and the house, careful not to make any noise so as not to wake her father. Her path led her across the courtyard, along the wall to the spring where she washed herself thoroughly and changed her clothes. Sometimes she allowed herself a moment of rest and sat on the meadow with her knees drawn up, listening to the waves or the sounds of the night as she stared up at the night sky.
Her standard of living had improved with the acquisition of the animals and the planting of several beds, but the daily work had also increased. When she sank exhausted onto her bed in the evening, it only took a few breaths before she was fast asleep.
Anwyn had already prepared breakfast for her father and herself, swept the house and the yard, washed the used dishes and laundry.
She had watered and weeded the beds, mucked out the stable and fed the animals. Now she was about to tip a bucket of turnips, carrots, potatoes, some fruit and stale bread into the enclosure with the pigs so that they could forage and rummage on the ground.
The enclosure was big enough to keep the pigs, the donkey and the goats together.
With a smile, Anwyn watched as the small group of pigs ran to their rich meal, grunting excitedly and munching on the fruit and vegetables.
In front of the enclosure were two new wooden buckets which she grabbed and headed towards the spring to fill with fresh spring water which she would then pour into the enclosure's drinking trough.
As Anwyn walked through the yard, she thought of the many days she had spent together with Ulthred and Conall. She had to admit to herself that she missed the two half-elves in her presence and now considered them as friends. Trálír often told her how they were doing and how many times they asked about her well-being and how she and her father were doing.
Since her childhood, there had only been her father and herself, the daily fishing and hard work. There had never been a single day of peace and quiet. She had never had any friends, neither in her childhood nor in her youth.
Anwyn had never missed them because she had never known the feeling of friendship and close ties.
There were the odd conversations in the village when she went to the market, but even there she was always aware that they were not part of the village community. There were often moments when she wondered why, but she had never found an answer.
Now that she had gotten to know Trálír and the two half-elves and her life had been enriched by their presence, she felt their absence even more.
Every moment that the high elf was not by her side, Anwyn felt as if a part of herself was missing. She felt safe and understood in Trálír's closeness, sure, that his feelings for her were genuine.
It was not always easy for Anwyn to wait for his arrival, as she never knew when he would reach the farm and how much time they could spend together, but she enjoyed every single second in his presence.
With a sigh, Anwyn lowered the buckets into the water, filled them and then pulled them back out with a groan. Her arms burned from the heavy weight of the full buckets in her hands and her back ached from the strain as she walked back to the courtyard.
As Anwyn set the buckets down to open the yard gate, she heard the whinny of Arod not far from her and she turned around in delight.
“Trálír!” she exclaimed, raising her hand in greeting and watching as the elf, sitting tall on his stallion, approached the courtyard.
Anwyn's gaze slid to his face and the smile on her lips faded when she saw his expression.
The blue-green eyes that always reminded her of the churning sea looked dark gray with anger. She saw something wild and unrestrained in them and her throat tightened subconsciously. Uncertain, she watched as Trálír rode into the courtyard without a word of greeting, swung himself out of the saddle and led the stallion into the stable without giving her a glance.
Anwyn still stood at the gate, the two buckets filled with water beside her, not knowing what to do, say or think. Hesitantly, she watched as Trálír stepped out of the stable, closed the gate and turned in her direction, his eyes still filled with anger.
As their gazes crossed, the anger faded from Trálír's eyes, which then felt empty. His shoulders slumped, he breathed heavily and closed his eyes. His expression looked tortured.
Anwyn stepped through the gate and walked slowly towards him.
He looks so lost, she thought sadly, and the next moment she noticed his bloodied hands. Horror spread through Anwyn and she ran towards him, placing her hands carefully on his face, her voice full of concern.
“By the gods, Trálír, have you been attacked? Are you hurt?” Anwyn asked, barely able to suppress the rising panic in her voice. Her gaze slid over his face to his neck, his chest, his arms. Then her hands gently followed the previous gaze and slid from his face to his shoulders, carefully scanning him for injuries. She saw a few bloodstains on the light-colored fabric of his tunic as she heard him say softly, “It's not my blood, Anwyn.”
She looked up at him, frowned questioningly and waited for Trálír to continue.
“We had combat training in the castle.”
“Are they asking you to to punch the walls with your fists?” Anwyn asked, noticing that her voice was trembling slightly. She took his hands in hers and examined them closely. The skin on the knuckles was red, swollen and burst open, but Anwyn could not see a deeper injury.
“It's my opponent's blood,” Trálír explained quietly, a hint of regret in his voice. Anwyn looked at him questioningly with wide eyes, but he avoided her gaze.
She sensed that something had happened, something unexpected, that got to him.
Something that he couldn't put into words ... or didn't want to.
„I’ll first soak your tunic and pants to remove the blood and while that will take until the next morning, I’ll take care of your hands immediately”, Anwyn said and saw Trálír nod slowly. Her gaze softened and she gently stroked his wrist with her fingertips.
“Wait for me at the spring, Trálír, I will follow,” she said in a gentle voice and watched as he nodded once more, turned slowly and walked towards the stream. His usually tall body and confident gait were unrecognizable on him, his shoulders dropped and his steps were almost dragging.
Anwyn went to the gate, took the two full buckets in her hands and poured the water into the drinking trough of the pig enclosure. She placed one bucket against the fence and took the other with her as she walked to the entrance of the cellar and opened it. Anwyn walked down the few stairs in the dark in absolute safety, having memorized the way down since she was a child. Even in her sleep, she would have had no trouble finding her way down to the basement. She went to a large wooden barrel that stood in the back corner, opened it and poured the contents into the bucket with a small shovel. With water, this would make a strong brine that would make it easier for Anwyn to wash the blood out of Trálír's clothes after they had been soaking in the salt water mixture overnight.
She left the cellar, put the full bucket of salt water in front of the door and went into the house, took a pair of trousers and an old shirt from her father's clothes chest, then grabbed a small bar of gall soap, some alcohol, a brew of marigold tea and some thin strips of cloth as bandages and put them in her wicker basket that stood next to her bed.
Carrying the basket in her left hand and the full bucket in her right, Anwyn walked to the spring. Trálír sat lost in thought on the meadow, his eyes closed, but when he heard her approaching, he opened them and looked in her direction. There was a faint smile on his lips, but in his eyes she saw a deep insecurity that pained her. What had happened to upset him so much?
Trálír looked up at her when she reached him and put down the bucket and the wicker basket.
“I need to put your clothes in a brine for the night so I can wash the blood out in the morning,” she explained to him. “I've chosen you a pair of pants and an old tunic from my father. It may be a little tight around the chest, but it will be enough so that you don't have to return to the castle naked.”
At her words, a slight smirk appeared on Trálír's lips and an amused twinkle could be seen in his eyes.
“After that, I'll take care of your bruised hands. It's better if I treat them with some marigold decoction and bandage them.”
“Is that really necessary?” Trálír asked, looking at Anwyn skeptically.
“Well, we can just ignore it and wait for some dirt to settle, the wounds to become infected and gangrene to cost you your fingers and then your hands.”
“Very well, I understand,” Trálír replied resignedly and Anwyn nodded in satisfaction.
“Now get rid of your clothes, hand them to me and get into the water.”
Trálír raised a dark eyebrow. “And why should I do that?” he asked curiously, the tone of his voice deepening and taking on a velvety undertone.
“Because I tell you to,” was Anwyn's unequivocal answer and she tried to ignore the elf's seductive tone. She put her hands on her hips, gave him a stern look and Trálír stifled the rising chuckle he felt in his throat.
“So be it,” he said, reaching for the edge of his tunic and taking it off with a deft movement of his hand. He let it fall carelessly to the ground, his gaze fixed on Anwyn, who looked at him wordlessly. But he noticed how her chest rose and fell a little faster than it had a few moments before.
Her big brown eyes were glued to the body before her.
Trálír was muscular, his stomach and arms toned and Anwyn couldn't look away.
He leaned forward a little, removed his boots and slowly undid his breeches, loosened the laces. With a seductive smile, he pushed the fabric of his pants to his ankles and then stepped out of them, leaving him standing in front of her in just his underpants.
“And now?” he asked in an amused voice and watched as Anwyn slowly pointed to the spring with her hand.
“To ... to the Water,” she whispered and quickly bent over to grab his clothes and press them against her upper body. With a grin, Trálír turned around and walked into the lukewarm stream. The water flowing directly from the spring was cool and refreshing and mixed with the almost stagnant water that had slowly warmed up since the morning. Trálír walked slowly through the warm water, breathing in and out deeply, feeling how his body relaxed, how the restlessness that had held him in its grip for what felt like an eternity slowly receded from him. He dipped his hands into the warm water and felt the stinging pain of his abraded skin, which reminded him of what had happened. Trálír felt the remorse again, the anger, the helplessness, all these feelings intensified in just one breath and threatened to take him over, to overwhelm him. So he turned around and looked for Anwyn, whom he saw standing right by the spring. She held the bucket underneath, filled it with clear water and then placed it on the meadow. She dipped her right hand into the water and mixed it intently with the salt lying on the bottom before grabbing his shirt and trousers and placing them in the brine.
Anwyn straightened up and her eyes met Trálír's.
When he saw that she was also reaching for the edge of her dress, he felt his heart literally stumble in his chest.
He watched wide-eyed as Anwyn pulled her dress up, causing her tight undergarment underneath to ride up as well, revealing her bare thighs and underpants. Open-mouthed, Trálír stared at the soft curve of her hips, the bare skin of her belly and the base of her breasts when suddenly the undergarment detached itself from the fabric and slid back over her body, hiding it just below her buttocks.
“What are you up to?” Trálír's voice was hoarse as he stared at Anwyn, but the next moment he remembered to take a few steps into deeper water to hide his growing erection, which was clearly visible against the fabric of his underpants. He gulped as he watched Anwyn walk slowly through the grass to the shore, a mixture of sand and small pebbles. It was impossible for him to take his eyes off Anwyn for a single moment as she walked through the pleasantly warm water with a tender smile on her lips until she stood in front of him and looked up at him.
“Would you allow me to wash you?” she asked in a whisper and he recognized uncertainty in her voice and her warm, brown eyes. She wasn't sure whether he would allow her to get so close, even though they had already experienced a few moments of deep passion. Nevertheless, it was a new kind of intimacy, a new kind of affection for each other.
“Yes ... yes, of course,” Trálír replied with a nod and tried to cover his emerging nervousness with an embarrassed smile. He was standing in water up to his loins and as Anwyn was slightly shorter than him, she walked around him until the water reached just below her chest.
Biting his lower lip nervously, Trálír waited to see what would happen next and when he felt Anwyn's hands on his shoulders, his heart raced so hard he could almost hear it pounding in his ears. He breathed in and out deeply, but unconsciously tensed at Anwyn's touch. With a small bar of soap, one of Anwyn's hands slid over his shoulders while she used her other hand to move his hair, which was tied at the nape of his neck, forward over his shoulder.
Trálír closed his eyes with pleasure, breathed in and out deeply of the salty sea air and concentrated on the circular, gentle movements with which Anwyn, standing behind him, soaped his skin. As she glided her fingertips along his spine, Trálír felt the tension in his body weaken and he surrendered completely to the touch of his beloved. His chin sank to his chest and Anwyn let her fingertips glide with gentle pressure over his vertebrae to his neck, massaging the skin and muscles there with slow, circular movements.
Then he felt her open the leather band that held his hair together and she slid it over his back with a gentle movement.
In her left hand Anwyn held the bar of soap, while with her right hand she scooped up water several times, wetting Trálír's long hair so that she lathered it with the soap. He suddenly felt her move away from him and glanced over his shoulder in surprise, only to see that she had taken a few steps towards the shore to put the soap down. He quickly turned around again so that Anwyn would not see that her absence had aroused his curiosity. And only moments later he felt her hands in his long, heavy hair. A sigh slipped over his lips as Anwyn ran her fingers in circles over his scalp, working the soap lather into his hair.
It felt like an eternity for Trálír to feel Anwyn's skillful movements on his skin, his hair, and could have gone on for eons. He felt a sense of loss as she began to wash the soap scum from his hair, cupping the lukewarm water in her hands again and again. A moment later, Trálír felt her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down and he understood that he should dive under to wash the remaining lather from his hair. Closing his eyes, the high elf took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, his hands in his long hair, and when he surfaced, he shook himself like a wet dog who wanted to dry his fur. Surprise was on his face when he opened his eyes again and saw a smiling Anwyn standing in front of him, only a few handbreadths away.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-25 12:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-27 05:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-26 03:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-27 05:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-26 07:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-27 05:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-27 08:02 pm (UTC)Und ich kann Anwyn so gut verstehen - ich hatte früher auch nie wirklich Freund*innen, aber jetzt könnte ich mir nicht mehr vorstellen, ohne die, die ich habe, zu leben und vermisse sie sehr wenn ich sie länger nicht sehe.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-31 07:14 am (UTC)Hm, ich auch nicht. Ich war zwar immer so akzeptiert, aber dass sich da jemand um mich gekümmert oder Interesse gezeigt hätte gab es nicht. Erst nach dem Abschluss der Schule bin ich dann mit meiner besten Freundin zusammengekommen, die ich zwar seit der ersten Klasse kannte, die aber auch nie so ein Interesse an mir hatte. Ich dachte, sie gehört immer zu den Coolen bis sie mir dann auch erzählt hatte, dass sie nach der Schule immer alleine zu Hause gesessen hat.