Skin, Muscles, and Sweat (August 2998) - [Ceolmund]
Oct 26, 2018 9:06:35 GMT -5
Post by Adelais on Oct 26, 2018 9:06:35 GMT -5
The searing sun was high and drawing short shadows over the hill city, and the heat cast by the rays was enough to turn every shop and every home into a smithy. The people of Edoras tried to combat the newly made sun-forges within their walls with wide-open windows and languid, easy, paces about their tasks, though even a casual eye could note the efforts were not as helpful as they would hope. It looked as if the townspeople were melting; their hair was braided and off their necks, their linens damp with sweat, and pinkish cheeks and skin framed tired, glistening eyes.
All, perhaps, save one.
Adelais had risen golden that morning, challenging the sun himself for its brightness; it was, after all, not often her day off aligned with Runa’s, and the two of them had made plans for the afternoon. Plans that not even Runa was fully privy to; plans that an angry August afternoon would not manage to deter. Where most of the town could hardly manage to garner energy to move of a usual pace, the young woman was nearly skipping so light were her steps. Adelais could already hear the clang of metal wafting from up ahead, and the calls of the Eored as they trained in the rings. “Good!” She trilled. “They’re still training!”
Runa offered her a strange look, brow furrowed over her light eye and lips pursed. “Of course they are. The Eored doesn’t stop just because it’s hot, Adelais.”
Adelais shrugged, peals of laughter bubbling from her lips as she moved and strung her arm through Runa’s, large, pale eyes dancing in the golden light. “You know, Runa,” she hummed. “Faramund said he and his Eored were going to be training with Captain Ramm’s men.” She watched as Runa’s shoulder’s stiffened, and her breath caught, and Adelais smirked at the small gasp that raked through her parted lips.
“O-oh?”
And there it was, the reaction Adelais had been expecting. Surprise and eagerness hidden beneath a poorly sewn veil of the proper reaction to mundane news. The tall young lady, though, knew her friend well enough to know that any mention of Captain Ramm’s men was hardly mundane. “Faramund…Ceolmund…” The girl smirked, wisps of wheat-hued hair tickling the skin of her face as they fell from her twisted, pinned updo. It had been over a year ago that Adelais had taken to nudging her friend over the matter of a certain member of the Eored, and though it seemed it was at least weekly she had made some type of reference to the dashing Ceolmund for the sake of watching Runa fluster, Adelais had hardly tired of it. “And a hot day on top of it all!” She sighed, dreamily. “It will be a field of dreams down there, today. You’re welcome.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Runa asked with a frown, hands twitching and nervously tugging on her thin linen dress as if to set it in a proper place, and then flying to be sure the braid wrapped as a crown about her head was still presentable as well. Adelais knew there was only one word that could spark such a rare show of girlish behavior from the Healing Hall’s wizpopper: Ceolmund.
Adelais laughed. “The trail of shirts, the rippling muscles, all that glistening skin…” A thrill was prickling its way down Adelais’ arms at the thought, and her pale eyes glinted in grin. “Hot days are the best days for visits, Runa, never forget it.”
“Eorl’s flaming knickers, Adelais,” Runa grumbled, the pink on her cheek that had risen from the day’s assault suddenly tingeing darker.
The taller healer noted it with pleasure, tugging at Runa’s arm to hurry her steps. “The rings are close, come, come!”
And close they were.
A sea of skin and muscles glistened in the high-sun before them as the girls approached, mingling and mulling about in a half-hearted ring of their own, eyes and attention bent and turned to the middle; watching a spar. Runa could hear the beating of the shields as they thundered together, the scrape of wood as swings were blocked, the low grunts, the deep breaths. Her stomach knotted in flutters, and she did not have to look to know one of the men at work.
Adelais led them straight for the cluster of bodies, tilting her head, smiling, and batting her lashes. “Pardon us,” she hummed.
“Oh, sure, here,” came the first harried reply, and the young man moved aside, pulling his friend out of the way as well. Soon the young men were scrambling to part, and a path was being carved for them right through the valley of rippling pectorals.
Runa had never been noticed like this at the grounds before; the men looked at the two healers as if they had rarely seen a woman amongst them, even if Runa had spent time there often, even clad in britches and carrying weapons to train on her own. Like waters the men parted, skin, muscles and sweat, until Runa could see the two forms in the center of the ring. She choked on the air, spluttering into a small cough. “Well, well,” Adelais hummed, smirking. “That’s a rather handsome scar, don’t you think?”
Runa could not find words to answer.
The two figures ahead were tall, and while Runa had seen Faramund around the city in passing since he and Adelais had taken interest in each other, it was truly the other, somewhat bulkier figure that Runa knew without question. Ceolmund was gleaming in the sunlight from his hard work, the wound he had taken the year previous by spear healed and nothing more than a pinkish line along the muscles of his side, tensed and trembling with the readiness he harbored within them.
A small moan eked from Runa’s lips at the sight, and Adelais grinned in accomplishment. “What was that? Do you need some alone time?”
“Shut it, Adelais,” Runa snapped quietly. The young girl did little but laugh in reply.
“When Faramund’s done thrashing him, I’ll have him carry you to the Hall. You look flushed,” Adelais winked, but soon turned back to the fray, her own eyes falling on the other figure, beardless, with his hair pulled back in a cord. “Come on, Faramund! You're not going to let him win!”
All, perhaps, save one.
Adelais had risen golden that morning, challenging the sun himself for its brightness; it was, after all, not often her day off aligned with Runa’s, and the two of them had made plans for the afternoon. Plans that not even Runa was fully privy to; plans that an angry August afternoon would not manage to deter. Where most of the town could hardly manage to garner energy to move of a usual pace, the young woman was nearly skipping so light were her steps. Adelais could already hear the clang of metal wafting from up ahead, and the calls of the Eored as they trained in the rings. “Good!” She trilled. “They’re still training!”
Runa offered her a strange look, brow furrowed over her light eye and lips pursed. “Of course they are. The Eored doesn’t stop just because it’s hot, Adelais.”
Adelais shrugged, peals of laughter bubbling from her lips as she moved and strung her arm through Runa’s, large, pale eyes dancing in the golden light. “You know, Runa,” she hummed. “Faramund said he and his Eored were going to be training with Captain Ramm’s men.” She watched as Runa’s shoulder’s stiffened, and her breath caught, and Adelais smirked at the small gasp that raked through her parted lips.
“O-oh?”
And there it was, the reaction Adelais had been expecting. Surprise and eagerness hidden beneath a poorly sewn veil of the proper reaction to mundane news. The tall young lady, though, knew her friend well enough to know that any mention of Captain Ramm’s men was hardly mundane. “Faramund…Ceolmund…” The girl smirked, wisps of wheat-hued hair tickling the skin of her face as they fell from her twisted, pinned updo. It had been over a year ago that Adelais had taken to nudging her friend over the matter of a certain member of the Eored, and though it seemed it was at least weekly she had made some type of reference to the dashing Ceolmund for the sake of watching Runa fluster, Adelais had hardly tired of it. “And a hot day on top of it all!” She sighed, dreamily. “It will be a field of dreams down there, today. You’re welcome.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Runa asked with a frown, hands twitching and nervously tugging on her thin linen dress as if to set it in a proper place, and then flying to be sure the braid wrapped as a crown about her head was still presentable as well. Adelais knew there was only one word that could spark such a rare show of girlish behavior from the Healing Hall’s wizpopper: Ceolmund.
Adelais laughed. “The trail of shirts, the rippling muscles, all that glistening skin…” A thrill was prickling its way down Adelais’ arms at the thought, and her pale eyes glinted in grin. “Hot days are the best days for visits, Runa, never forget it.”
“Eorl’s flaming knickers, Adelais,” Runa grumbled, the pink on her cheek that had risen from the day’s assault suddenly tingeing darker.
The taller healer noted it with pleasure, tugging at Runa’s arm to hurry her steps. “The rings are close, come, come!”
And close they were.
A sea of skin and muscles glistened in the high-sun before them as the girls approached, mingling and mulling about in a half-hearted ring of their own, eyes and attention bent and turned to the middle; watching a spar. Runa could hear the beating of the shields as they thundered together, the scrape of wood as swings were blocked, the low grunts, the deep breaths. Her stomach knotted in flutters, and she did not have to look to know one of the men at work.
Adelais led them straight for the cluster of bodies, tilting her head, smiling, and batting her lashes. “Pardon us,” she hummed.
“Oh, sure, here,” came the first harried reply, and the young man moved aside, pulling his friend out of the way as well. Soon the young men were scrambling to part, and a path was being carved for them right through the valley of rippling pectorals.
Runa had never been noticed like this at the grounds before; the men looked at the two healers as if they had rarely seen a woman amongst them, even if Runa had spent time there often, even clad in britches and carrying weapons to train on her own. Like waters the men parted, skin, muscles and sweat, until Runa could see the two forms in the center of the ring. She choked on the air, spluttering into a small cough. “Well, well,” Adelais hummed, smirking. “That’s a rather handsome scar, don’t you think?”
Runa could not find words to answer.
The two figures ahead were tall, and while Runa had seen Faramund around the city in passing since he and Adelais had taken interest in each other, it was truly the other, somewhat bulkier figure that Runa knew without question. Ceolmund was gleaming in the sunlight from his hard work, the wound he had taken the year previous by spear healed and nothing more than a pinkish line along the muscles of his side, tensed and trembling with the readiness he harbored within them.
A small moan eked from Runa’s lips at the sight, and Adelais grinned in accomplishment. “What was that? Do you need some alone time?”
“Shut it, Adelais,” Runa snapped quietly. The young girl did little but laugh in reply.
“When Faramund’s done thrashing him, I’ll have him carry you to the Hall. You look flushed,” Adelais winked, but soon turned back to the fray, her own eyes falling on the other figure, beardless, with his hair pulled back in a cord. “Come on, Faramund! You're not going to let him win!”