Sinric the Wanderer

Sinric reaches put a hand to still Ragnar, gently hushing him. He gets out of the bath, holding out a towel in offer to Athelstan, a reflection of how old art of service.

"Walk if that's what you need, beloved."

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He steps out of the water and into the towel, touching Sinric's hand in thanks.

"All too often I need to be alone. And then, you can meet your needs as well with no concern for me."

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"I would rather have you here..." Ragnar says, resignedly, because he knows that of course, it won't work. "But most of all, I want you to have what you need."

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Sinric ducks his head to catch Athelstan's eye, his expression open and earnest.

"Thank you for understanding, beloved." He pitches his voice low, just for Athelstan. "I don't want to make things more difficult for you."

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"I know you two still have your desires", he answers, just as low, "and I can't feel them as you do."

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Ragnar stays in the bath.

"I hope you find some peace on your walk," he says.

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Sinric nods. "And forcing yourself to endure a touch that you don't desire, especially for another's sake, poisons too swiftly to revolution." He sounds as if he speaks from his own experience as well as an understanding of Athelstan's pain.

"Please, tell me if ever I overstep my welcome? And never fear to offend."

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Athelstan glances at Ragnar, uncertain if those words were sincere or if there was a touch of bitterness in them, then looks back at Sinric.

"I promise."

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If there is any bitterness, it's only at Ragnar's own inability to help with this, other than keeping the distance Athelstan wants.

It has got worse since they first found each other again here, too.

"I love you," he says, softly. That's all he can do now.

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"As do I." He gives Athelstan a little smile and moves back towards the edge of the bath. "Perhaps later, we may talk, you and I?"

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"Likewise, both of you." He finishes drying himself and moves to put his clothes back on. "Yes, Sinric, I'll come and find you."

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"I'm just sorry," Ragnar says. "Perhaps we should talk as well, later."

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Sinric sits on the edge of the bath, feet trailing half in and out, bridging the gap between them as Athelstan readies himself.

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"If you think it would do any good."

It isn't Ragnar's will to help he's doubting, it's that anybody can.

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"Talking to you?" Ragnar says. "Of course it will. In one way or another. Talking to you rarely is in vain."

Ragnar will give up when he's dead. And he is patient.

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Sinric gives them a soft smile, silently offering to be there for them as they need it.

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Athelstan's smile in return is strained and short-lived, but at least it's there.

He doesn't speak again before he turns for the door.

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Ragnar sits in the bath, blinking his eyes a few times.

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