(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Their rooms are as neat as ever but there are signs of Ragnar's presence - horn cups on the mantle, a tunic draped over the back of a chair.

Sinric guides Athelstan to sit on the edge of the bed. "Can I get you some mead? Or something to eat?"

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan nods a promise again, and takes a sip of the mead.

"How have things been here?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Ragnar brought baby goats for his daughter but they got loose. They caused quite a bit of trouble. But you were right, they are very cute. And they answer when you talk to them."

[athelstanthescribe]

"He wrote of them in his letter", Athelstan says with a nod. "That they got into the garden and soiled your clothes. He says I should go and visit them."

[thewidewideworld]

"Ragnar kept apologising, which was silly. They are only babies. No-one can blame them for what they can't help. Chasing them was quite entertaining."

[athelstanthescribe]

"As good a diversion as any for an afternoon", he says with a soft smile. "I hope no one was too put out."

[thewidewideworld]

"The good doctor was a little upset about the kitchen herbs being chewed on but I think they will recover." As will he.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Herbs are resilient", he agrees. "Else they couldn't be harvested and regrow as well as they do."

[thewidewideworld]

"Very true." Sinric nods. "Other than that, I've just been reading and writing my lord's story. It has been very quiet here." Waiting for Ragnar and Athelstan.

[athelstanthescribe]

"You've been waiting so faithfully", Athelstan says quietly. "To be the connection between us."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles warmly. "You know how much I care for you. That's why I wait."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I hope it may not be too much longer." For his own sake, as well as to let Sinric get back to his life.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and leans in to kiss the tip of his nose. "It will be as long as it takes." He makes a point of sounding cheerful about it.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan appreciates the effort, and puts his arm around Sinric before he pulls away.

"In this place, it does seem easier."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric settles against him, resting his head on Athelstan's shoulder, snuggling close. "It is easier here. The bar, the library, the gardens. There's always something to do."

[athelstanthescribe]

"My hands are somewhat better, I think", he says with determined hope. "I stretch them every day and the stiffness seems less."

[thewidewideworld]

"May I see you hands?" He asks softly, holding his hands out to him.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Of course." He holds them out, the wounds unbandaged now and doing what's left of their healing in the open air.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric holds Athelstan's hands tenderly, stoking his fingers and the edges of his palm. "It's good to see how well you've healed. And you no-longer need a cane to lean on?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"The pain is so much less", he confirms, "I've dispensed with it. Sometimes I do have stabbing pains in my feet if I rest my weight wrongly, or my hands for no clear reason, but I can walk."

Nerves take longer to heal than flesh and bones.

[thewidewideworld]

"Do your muscles still ache? As they once did. Would it help if I was to soothe them?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Not as badly... but I wouldn't turn down the offer."

He gives Sinric a crooked smile.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and cups Athelstan's cheek and kisses him. "Gladly. Would you like to lay down?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"It's rather needed."

He stretches and lies down on the bed.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric kneels beside him, helping Athelstan out of his tunic. He fetches the oil from the bathroom and warms it between his hands before starting at Athelstan's lower back.

Not that the wounds across Athelstan's back are starting to heal, he can use more pressure, getting into knots in Athelstan's back he feared to put too much pressure on last time.

[athelstanthescribe]

They're beyond any danger of breaking open now, at least in any significant way. Athelstan groans as Sinric digs into his tense back.