Post by wordy on Dec 11, 2013 15:18:32 GMT 10
Title: Rust Away
Rating: PG
For: max
Prompt: #1 - Phelan
Summary: According to that Nyler Jewel, there were three types of Dog.
Notes and Warnings: Set sometime during Phelan’s first year in the Provost’s Guard. Title taken from the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! song Let The Cool Goddess Rust Away.
The Jane Street baths were near deserted when he came off watch. An attendant took his money and gave him some soap and a soft, threadbare towel in exchange, then he went through the taxing process of getting undressed. Usually he had to sit down on the bench with his breeches only halfway off, to give his twinging muscles a rest.
But the water was always warm, just the right amount of burn against his hard-worked body.
Some months he’d been coming here after Evening Watch. According to that Nyler Jewel, there were three types of Dog: those who hit the pillow already out, those who drank themselves to sleep, and those who needed a good dose of relaxation first. Phelan would have argued that there were four types, not three, but he’d always been a bit too in awe of the corporal to work up the nerve to ask where swiving might fit into it.
The baths always did him good, anyhow. After watch he felt too awake and getting clean now meant he could sleep the morning away if needed.
Soaping up turned the suds grimy, then he dunked himself a few times to wash everything away. His hair was getting too long; it dripped water over his forehead and flicked into his eyes. He was just relaxing against the edge of the pool, the idea of a good night’s sleep already making his eyelids heavy, when the sound of bare feet patting against the tile reached his ears.
The man was probably of an age with him, and they exchanged nods as the newcomer slipped into the water.
Phelan submerged himself again, but it did no good in chasing his weariness away. He heaved himself out of the pool with a sigh. Only a feckless man would let himself drift off, and being found arse-up in the baths would make any cove a laughing stock in death, nevermind if it were a Dog.
His muscles felt loose again, though, and he was clean enough for bed. Flipping the attendant an extra bit on his way out, Phelan got dressed again and wandered home.
Rating: PG
For: max
Prompt: #1 - Phelan
Summary: According to that Nyler Jewel, there were three types of Dog.
Notes and Warnings: Set sometime during Phelan’s first year in the Provost’s Guard. Title taken from the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! song Let The Cool Goddess Rust Away.
The Jane Street baths were near deserted when he came off watch. An attendant took his money and gave him some soap and a soft, threadbare towel in exchange, then he went through the taxing process of getting undressed. Usually he had to sit down on the bench with his breeches only halfway off, to give his twinging muscles a rest.
But the water was always warm, just the right amount of burn against his hard-worked body.
Some months he’d been coming here after Evening Watch. According to that Nyler Jewel, there were three types of Dog: those who hit the pillow already out, those who drank themselves to sleep, and those who needed a good dose of relaxation first. Phelan would have argued that there were four types, not three, but he’d always been a bit too in awe of the corporal to work up the nerve to ask where swiving might fit into it.
The baths always did him good, anyhow. After watch he felt too awake and getting clean now meant he could sleep the morning away if needed.
Soaping up turned the suds grimy, then he dunked himself a few times to wash everything away. His hair was getting too long; it dripped water over his forehead and flicked into his eyes. He was just relaxing against the edge of the pool, the idea of a good night’s sleep already making his eyelids heavy, when the sound of bare feet patting against the tile reached his ears.
The man was probably of an age with him, and they exchanged nods as the newcomer slipped into the water.
Phelan submerged himself again, but it did no good in chasing his weariness away. He heaved himself out of the pool with a sigh. Only a feckless man would let himself drift off, and being found arse-up in the baths would make any cove a laughing stock in death, nevermind if it were a Dog.
His muscles felt loose again, though, and he was clean enough for bed. Flipping the attendant an extra bit on his way out, Phelan got dressed again and wandered home.