Snippets and Stories: (BP) Stewing

It was a bloody pain dealing with hygiene on the road, and it was a bigger pain still, dealing with Shols.

Never mind the both of them. That was just torture.

His normal upkeep while on the move were insubstantial for the growing Shol, whose maintenance was downright grueling.

In sanctuaries, the public bathhouses were out of the question, lest they be recognized, and Vye's appearance was anything but inconspicuous.

This meant that in town Zeal had to cough up extra for a private bath. Never mind the preparations for the water itself. 

With the exception of the high altitudes, Vye turned his nose up at most every bathing opportunity they came across.

"It's running water, and clear besides. It's safe." 

But the Shol would give a tentative whiff and refuse.

Most any water was far too polluted by the Shol's absurd standards.

How had his kind ever survived?

They didn't, that's how.

The Seeker kept that last bit to himself.

Zeal had since taken to carrying filtration cores. Marbles harboring dense aetherical reservoirs capable of thoroughly filtering water.

Thankfully Lockes had taken over that duty.

Using the provided tinderbox, the warden lit the pitch black stones beneath the bath.

While that heated, Zeal helped Vye out of the multitude of layers, ruffling and fluffing up the plumes as he went.

Removing and folding his own garments, he set that on the rack and dipped a hand into the water. It had heated considerably. Satisfied, the mercenary was the first to step in, testing the waters to ensure they wouldn't scorch his charge.

The warmth of the water was a blessing for his travel worn body, the heat pleasant and soothing. Such pleasures wrought a content sigh from him. Though he could do with or without many of the conveniences and comforts of civilization, but he did admittedly miss the luxury of a heated bath.

Zeal lay back to rest his head on the edge, relishing in the all encompassing warmth and buoyant lightness of his body.

Before realizing it was blissfully quiet. Too quiet.

The mercenary pried an eye open to peer over the edge.

Vye's hands rested on top of the stone surface, staring expectantly up at him.

Zeal bit back a groan and pushed himself up so that he was sitting.

Without a word he reached over and plucked the young Shol up, settling him into the warmth of the tub and his lap. The bath was deep, and Zeal still didn't know if his charge could swim, nor was he in any mood to find out. Given that Vye was less than keen on crossing any body of water, shallow or not, Zeal had his doubts and didn't fancy tempting fate. 

The small Shol just sat there unmoving, still waiting expectantly.

Spoiled thing.

There wasn't much room with the Shol in there with him, but he managed to swipe the husk from the shelf.

Zeal combed his hands through Vye's plumes, scrubbing away at him.

The first Time they had been at a bath, it was after a trying first week of travel where the Shol refused any water as they were all deemed polluted.

"It's cleaner than you are, just get in."

And still Vye had refused.

At his wits end, and having yet to procure a means of aetherical purification at the Time, the mercenary had dragged Vye up a mountainous hike where a bath house had set up shop at the peak, fed by the pure waters of the spring.

It irked him that the Shol thought such excessive expenditure to be merely "passable" in quality.

Once in their room, he'd pushed Vye through the door and told him to clean up.

Only to walk in nearly half an hour later to find Vye sitting on the ground and nipping at his plumes.

Explaining how the bath worked helped little but to erode patience.

Vye had eyed the steaming spring suspiciously, startling when Zeal--who had deemed the whole exchange futile, grasped him in the auxiliary of the arms, and dumped the Shol into the hot water. Thinking that perhaps this was some extravagant means of preparation, the Shol froze.

Zeal had been forced to scrub Vye clean himself and dry him off.

Since then the Shol had taken to sitting limp and waiting for his guardian to bath him.

If there was one benefit to bathing the Shol, the oils Vye exuded would turn the bath water fragrant.

Normally, whatever property a Shol carried also transfers into the derived oils, and whatever Vye's subspecies was, it had a lightly floral and woody scent. Rosy, but with a residue of the same slimy viscosity of aloe. A bit unpleasant in texture, really, but at the very least it didn't seem harmful.

Thankfully Vye wasn't of a toxic subtype. That would have been disastrous.

Vye gave him an odd look when he'd mentioned it offhand, and he decided better against enlightening his charge to what had once been common uses of Shol oils in various remedies, or the medicinal properties believed to come such infusions. The extraction process, by which Shol derived oils were procured during Harvest moon, was one both gruesome and doubtlessly perturbing.

When Lockes had conceded to travel with them, Zeal had braced himself for yet more unnecessarily troublesome burdens to shoulder on the road. But contrary to his belief, things were admittedly much more convenient now that the Bluepine was with them.

For one, Vye semed more incline to use whatever stream the Bluepine deemed suitable. The Bræmbel Shol was accustomed to the deep spring water the Circles oft tapped into.

For another, Lockes was one of the few Shols to have honed their innate magic in wielding natural affinities so. Whereas most grew into it, Lockes went out of their way to pursue perfection in their Art.

Even before the rise of the Harvest Moon, the Bluepine had been a force to be reckoned with. Masterful in manipulation, proficient in the Arcane, and a seemingly inborn deftness and grace not oft seen. Even when they had first been severed and deprived of any aetherical bonds, Lockes could do more than simply hold their ground in close combat.

Now though, as a seasoned Shol that survived culling, their innate prowess had but grown. Hardened by sacrifice and loss, forced to clash with forces far greater than their own, they but improved in leaps and bounds. Because for the Bluepine, there was but one path.

The path forward. And it was on that path that they would take a step forth.

Truly, Hemlockes was a marvel.

The Seeker balked, startled by the sheer depth of the admiration and respect he held for their newest companion, and the warmth that accompanied it. Their stay at Whitedew must have affected him more deeply than he'd let on.

Zeal frowned. He blamed the brews they had partook of with nonexistent reservation.

Such strong potations softened those who imbibed upon them, nurturing a sense of camaraderie. Even more irksome was how he found genuine interest and fondness for their conversations, particularly those that stretched into the wee hours of dawn. Mayhaps it had been due to his recovery and the utter boredom he suffered while his wounds mended that helped him warm to the Bluepine, desperate for any stimulation to break the redundancy of being forcibly restrained and confined until such a Time that he was considered well again.

Vye churred lightly in his lap at the ministrations, the vibrations reverberating through the both of them and pulling the Seeker from his reminiscing. Zeal had brushed the husk firmly between the midline of the small Shol's back where it was most difficult to reach the plumy quill-esque foliage, and eliciting the contented noise. It had been frustrating and near impossible, trying to reach that spot between his shoulders on his own.

Staring down at him, Zeal again thanked the Stars that Lockes was with them now. After their ordeal, the dark Shol had continued a rigorous training to bring out the full potential of their kind's innate magick, and the aetherical artes had only grown stronger. Having grown greater control over the aether, and well versed with the needs of the road, they had taken it upon themselves to filter the waters they consumed and bathed in.

Streams and private baths were now accessible for the ragtag band.

A knock on the door had them both craning their necks. Hemlockes waltzed in, wrapped in a towel that despite being thoroughly wound around them as one would a shawl--an incredibly fluffy shawl--still dragged on the ground like an overly long cape.

Shols though they both were, they were quite different as individuals. Whereas Vye tended to scuffle with the ground as he padded over, Lockes's steps were light and almost dainty in their grace. Would be, as Zeal deemed, had he not seen the Shol in combat.

Grace it may be, but Lockes was no delicate bloom to be trifled with.

"Scootch, scootch, make room!" they called to the two already soaking, making as if to scale the side.

Only to be stopped by a hand, "No, I refuse to bath in hemlock."

"How rude." they huffed, "The family name isn't just a reference for the Apiaceaes, I'll have you know."

"There isn't enough room anyhow."

Zeal regretted it the moment those words left his lips.

The mischievious glint in Hemlockes's eyes were disconcerting.

"Challenge accepted."

Technically speaking, Lockes did manage to squirm their way into the tub. Technically they did all fit in the tub.

Technically speaking was the worst bloody kind of speaking in Zeal's not so humble opinion.

"If it puts you at ease, Shols can regulate their toxins if they so choose."

That made nothing better.

"You both need to lose weight."

There were simultaneous cries of discontent while Zeal sat stiffly, feeling more than uncomfortable with both pairs of eyes glued to him.

It wasn't that he was modest, modesty had nothing to do with this. He simply respected personal space, preferring it very much undisturbed.

Right now it was nonexistent, and there was, not one, but two, fluffy, plumed blobs sitting on his belly and legs.

"Do I get a backrub too?" Lockes flashed him a grin stretching nonexistent ear to nonexistent ear.

"No."

The tub was positively cramped now, and he was all but certain that it was more Shol than water that he was bathing in.

A matter that was, only after the fact, made hilarious as it was considered the highest of opulence for the nobility to bathe in Shol infused water.

On the bright side his skin had never felt better. Pampered soft, and with an almost radiant sheen.

Zeal was still not pleased to cough up the extra fee for having flooded the entire room.