(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric waits quietly in the light of the doorway, his eyes down until he heard Athelstan's footfall on the stairs of the veranda. He rises to offer Athelstan his arm. "You should come in where it's warm."

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"My Sinric." He cups Sinric's face. "I love you, and your constant care."

[thewidewideworld]

"As I love you for seeing my heart, and not just my body." He kisses Athelstan again and goes back to washing him carefully.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan turns carefully in the water to let Sinric get at every part of him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is thorough and gentle, making sure Athelstan is as clean as possible before kissing him again. "Let me take you to bed and see to your legs?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Yes." He shifts again to get his legs under him, taking Sinric in his arms. "They feel a little better today, but it's still needed."

[thewidewideworld]

"I am sorry I can't relax them more permanently. I fear the relief I can bring will only be short lived." He helps Athelstan to a stool and starts toweling him down with the same infinite care.

[athelstanthescribe]

"One day the cause of the discomfort will be gone", he reminds them both. "As far as it will ever be."

[thewidewideworld]

"And you will be healed and whole and back in your home with Ragnar." Sinric agrees, kissing Athelstan's shoulder and toweling his hair dry.

[athelstanthescribe]

He tilts his head back into Sinric's hands.

"It's what I live for."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric kisses the top of his upturned head and swiftly strokes Athelstan's hair back into a soft braid.

"Come," he offer Athelstan his arm and helps him to the bed, spreading out the furs and lighting a few candles in their little glass bowls. He fetches the oil and starts to warm it between his hands.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan lies comfortably on his front, stretching himself out.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric works slowly, carefully, giving the utmost attention to every knot and ache. It may be some time before he has the chance to do this for Athelstan again so he gives it his all.

He sings softly as he works, a soft, sweet song full of longing and love.

[athelstanthescribe]

It gets groans of relief from the pain out of Athelstan, as well as a kind of bittersweet pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

"Tell me if I hurt you, please?" Sinric asks in the pause between verses, still working his thumbs deep and steady.

[athelstanthescribe]

"If you hurt me sharply", he promises. "This can't be done with no discomfort, but it's healing discomfort."

[thewidewideworld]

"Then if the ache is too much or the pressure too deep." Sinric instructions seriously, kissing Athelstan's hip as he continues.

It's some time before he's satisfied he can do no more to ease the ache in Athelstan's legs before moving upwards.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I promise", he murmurs, letting himself drift as Sinric begins to work on his back.

The knots here are less to do with walking awkwardly, more to do with psychological stress.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shows them the same care, well aware of the effects such trauma can have on body and mind. He keeps singing, trying to keep Athelstan's mind away from the darkness that cause his body to so clench.

[athelstanthescribe]

Under Sinric's skilled hands, and perhaps helped by the singing, Athelstan's muscles unwind and relax.

He isn't asleep, but in a sort of in between trance state.

[thewidewideworld]

The best place possible to relax. Sinric works tirelessly, stopping only to refresh the oil or sip the cool, clean water here to keep his voice from drying out. He works up into Athelstan's shoulders and down his arms, massaging to the very joints of his hands to ease the tightness there.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan turns his hands dreamily into the touch. His fingers are tight with disuse more than pain, where he's been used to working with his hands every day and now he hasn't in weeks.

"I must start writing again", he murmurs. "The moment I can."

[thewidewideworld]

"What will you write?" The asks softly, moving from one hand to the other.

[athelstanthescribe]

"My book. Or finish my Bible, or - something. I don't know. I just want my hands to work."

[thewidewideworld]

"You must do whatever gives your hands strength and purpose." Sinric whispers, kissing the tip of Athelstan's fingers. "Perhaps when you return to us, I will teach you to write in the Persian style. It is beautiful and flowing, more art than the angled letters of Latin."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I'd like that." He smiles a little. "It must be a lovely script."