FSM: Water-ways, G (Trade Winds)
Jul 29, 2020 1:26:48 GMT 10
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Post by mistrali on Jul 29, 2020 1:26:48 GMT 10
Title: Water-ways
Rating: G
Summary: Polyam takes a proper bath.
Event: Goldenlake Summer/Winter Triathlon 2020 - Making a Splash
Words: 200 (excluding location/time/date)
****
Yangzhou Tent City, The Sea of Grass, Namorn-Yanjing border, the third day of Wolf Moon, 1037 K.F.
The tentbaths were clearly made for practicality rather than comfort. They were dim and compact, with only a dipper, a cake of yak-fat soap, a washcloth and a pumice stone for scrubbing. The candles, also of yak grease, gave off a strong, animal scent and thick grey smoke.
After weeks of meltwater baths, however, Polyam was in the lap of luxury. She didn’t have to find flatter terrain fifty feet along the stream, she could simply walk ten feet across the grass from the caravan. She didn’t have to hold anyone’s hand, grip her staff like a vice, or slide or crawl along mossy or gravelly slopes for fear of slipping. Instead of a rock or tree stump, there was a pine bench for her iron leg. On it was a plush cotton towel, neatly folded; no need for the thin, half-soaked rag she normally dried over the fire with clothespegs.
Best of all, since Yanjingyis bathed alone, each bath had been freshly filled and she had some privacy. Steam rose invitingly from the small wooden tub. With a smile, Polyam dumped her garments into the bag she used for soiled clothing, and began to rinse off the day’s sweat.
Rating: G
Summary: Polyam takes a proper bath.
Event: Goldenlake Summer/Winter Triathlon 2020 - Making a Splash
Words: 200 (excluding location/time/date)
****
Yangzhou Tent City, The Sea of Grass, Namorn-Yanjing border, the third day of Wolf Moon, 1037 K.F.
The tentbaths were clearly made for practicality rather than comfort. They were dim and compact, with only a dipper, a cake of yak-fat soap, a washcloth and a pumice stone for scrubbing. The candles, also of yak grease, gave off a strong, animal scent and thick grey smoke.
After weeks of meltwater baths, however, Polyam was in the lap of luxury. She didn’t have to find flatter terrain fifty feet along the stream, she could simply walk ten feet across the grass from the caravan. She didn’t have to hold anyone’s hand, grip her staff like a vice, or slide or crawl along mossy or gravelly slopes for fear of slipping. Instead of a rock or tree stump, there was a pine bench for her iron leg. On it was a plush cotton towel, neatly folded; no need for the thin, half-soaked rag she normally dried over the fire with clothespegs.
Best of all, since Yanjingyis bathed alone, each bath had been freshly filled and she had some privacy. Steam rose invitingly from the small wooden tub. With a smile, Polyam dumped her garments into the bag she used for soiled clothing, and began to rinse off the day’s sweat.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!