A hot bath was being prepared for the returned man, and in the midst of all of his brother's affections, his Harbinger had vanished. How long was he gone for? Vilkas felt as if he was taken away from the mer..he didn't want him to be gone so soon. His trials of purity where complete and the wonderful, wonderful elf had guided him every step of the way with nothing but the best intentions. Vilkas grabbed the pail that floated in his stone bath and poured hot water over his head, sputtering and running soap through his hair. The warmth felt undeniably amazing, his aches and pains relaxing into a pleasant numbness.
But his heart was still pining. Maybe a purified soul and a short rest was what finally jogged the thought into his mind. It was so hard to deny it now, he was clear to think. He honestly loved the Bosmer, adored him even. He'd taken into account every little thing the Bosmer could have honestly did to attract him and did so with flying colors. He was kind, his heart was filled with good intentions. He courted the fiery man with love songs, written him poetry, saved his life and left him breathless more times than he can count.
He hardly concentrated on Farkas' blathering, His brother seated in the bathing chamber across from him, ready to attend his cured brother- or maybe just to see if this really did happen. He noticed the tiny smile on Vilkas' otherwise always sneering face, his eyes cast down into the soaped water.
“Hey are you listening to me?”
“I asked if you where going to sit in there until the water goes cold!” Vilkas was stumbling out of the lukewarm water, wrapped up in fresh linen clothing. He could actually feel the coolness of the stone on his bare feet, the callouses on his brother's hands while he pushed him out of the chamber and towards his room. It looked as if everything was already prepared for him, his bed laid out with freshly cleaned furs and it just looked so damned inviting where otherwise he spent the past years of his life hating it.
His knees hit the bed and then hands, rolling himself unceremoniously onto his back before seeing his colossal brother follow suit, the wood creaking under their weights. He was happy to see he'd have company, quite suddenly not yearning to be alone like he had for pretty much his entire life. But he wanted the Harbinger, too. He wanted to hold him, let him know somehow just what his actions had done for Vilkas' troubled heart.
A crushing hug came, but only from his brother. “Hnngh!” He cried out, the twins collapsing on their sides and Farkas let out a grumble of a laugh. Farkas had been dying for this day, his own eyes open to anticipate all the good changes he's going to see for his 'little' brother. It was so painful not to be able to connect with the only family he has left because of their curse.
“Alright, alright,” Vilkas winced, patting his back and sputtering for air “I'm glad to see you're well, too.”
They sat, and reconnected for the first time in gods know how long.
All the while, The artist had seemingly vanished. Perhaps he needed to collect his thoughts after he went his separate way, but he didn't want to encroach on Farkas' time. He truly knows the importance of family over friendship, he'd been there before. It was well over 100 years ago, but he knew. But his mind couldn't tear away from Vilkas. he was the Dragonborn and there was seemingly endless tasks for him to take care of, but his muse remained strong in his thoughts seemingly all the time. Poets' hearts where not cut out for this constant stress, not when the mer's entire life was spent wandering without purpose, finding it in drugs, music, wine and language.
Could he possibly have enough room in his life for falling in love? Romances in the past always fell short, the emptiness never quite filled. The dreaded Bosmer always found himself a runaway lover- chasing a new muse when the last fell apart.
But he needed to change. The gods have finally chose to guide him to his destiny, and he couldn't possibly go it alone- he's made friends in every city, but Vilkas remained special to him. He wanted to make sure that never changes, and he'd fight through oblivion if it meant he could keep the Nord. As a friend, a lover, anything.
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timeasmymeasure
Purity 8
Date: 2013-03-09 10:55 pm (UTC)But his heart was still pining. Maybe a purified soul and a short rest was what finally jogged the thought into his mind. It was so hard to deny it now, he was clear to think. He honestly loved the Bosmer, adored him even. He'd taken into account every little thing the Bosmer could have honestly did to attract him and did so with flying colors. He was kind, his heart was filled with good intentions. He courted the fiery man with love songs, written him poetry, saved his life and left him breathless more times than he can count.
He hardly concentrated on Farkas' blathering, His brother seated in the bathing chamber across from him, ready to attend his cured brother- or maybe just to see if this really did happen. He noticed the tiny smile on Vilkas' otherwise always sneering face, his eyes cast down into the soaped water.
“Hey are you listening to me?”
“I asked if you where going to sit in there until the water goes cold!” Vilkas was stumbling out of the lukewarm water, wrapped up in fresh linen clothing. He could actually feel the coolness of the stone on his bare feet, the callouses on his brother's hands while he pushed him out of the chamber and towards his room. It looked as if everything was already prepared for him, his bed laid out with freshly cleaned furs and it just looked so damned inviting where otherwise he spent the past years of his life hating it.
His knees hit the bed and then hands, rolling himself unceremoniously onto his back before seeing his colossal brother follow suit, the wood creaking under their weights. He was happy to see he'd have company, quite suddenly not yearning to be alone like he had for pretty much his entire life. But he wanted the Harbinger, too. He wanted to hold him, let him know somehow just what his actions had done for Vilkas' troubled heart.
A crushing hug came, but only from his brother. “Hnngh!” He cried out, the twins collapsing on their sides and Farkas let out a grumble of a laugh. Farkas had been dying for this day, his own eyes open to anticipate all the good changes he's going to see for his 'little' brother. It was so painful not to be able to connect with the only family he has left because of their curse.
“Alright, alright,” Vilkas winced, patting his back and sputtering for air “I'm glad to see you're well, too.”
They sat, and reconnected for the first time in gods know how long.
All the while, The artist had seemingly vanished. Perhaps he needed to collect his thoughts after he went his separate way, but he didn't want to encroach on Farkas' time. He truly knows the importance of family over friendship, he'd been there before. It was well over 100 years ago, but he knew. But his mind couldn't tear away from Vilkas. he was the Dragonborn and there was seemingly endless tasks for him to take care of, but his muse remained strong in his thoughts seemingly all the time. Poets' hearts where not cut out for this constant stress, not when the mer's entire life was spent wandering without purpose, finding it in drugs, music, wine and language.
Could he possibly have enough room in his life for falling in love? Romances in the past always fell short, the emptiness never quite filled. The dreaded Bosmer always found himself a runaway lover- chasing a new muse when the last fell apart.
But he needed to change. The gods have finally chose to guide him to his destiny, and he couldn't possibly go it alone- he's made friends in every city, but Vilkas remained special to him. He wanted to make sure that never changes, and he'd fight through oblivion if it meant he could keep the Nord. As a friend, a lover, anything.
He needed to go back and see him.