82nd of Winter, 514 AV
Lorden looked on with azure eyes, at the beautiful, bubbling spring; as the water emitted streams of mist up into the clouded air. As he breathed, the knight welcomed the odd tingling permeating his chest, as the steam-laden air filled his lungs.
Barkeep was right, I do like this place, Lorden noted. The knight was banged and bruised; his right eye was swollen shut, the same side of his head was just as lumpy, and various cuts surrounded his body. Not to mention, even if you couldn't see the tares in his aching muscles, they were still definitely more than apparent to the swordsman.
Normally knights trained on their days off, but Lorden's body was a testament that he already gotten that out of the way. Now was the time to nurse his wounds, and let his body grow strong through its passed pain.
With the thought that he had earned a little rest in mind, the knight looked on at the spring more than eagerly. The warm air that coalesced around him, and embraced him as would a lover, was already beginning to soothe his muscle; but he still thirsted, nevertheless, for the bubbling waters, to rush around and against his flesh. Tugging at the bottom of his shirt, Lorden hesitantly looked about himself, before folding the cloth up and above his reasonably toned torso.
Bah, I'm no woman, the knight thought, as he shuffled his shirt to the crook of his non-dominant arm. Slowly, and through an ever-present aching, Lorden removed his boots and dropped his cloth pants. With all but the last bit of his vestments removed, the raven haired man, began unwrapping his undergarments from around his thin waist. When all the trappings of civilization had fallen or been removed from his form, leaving him bare against the warm air, Lorden bent to retrieve all of his garments.
Now, where do I... there, the knight thought with his clothes cradled in his right arm, and his leather boots hanging in his left. Seeing what he was looking for, the man began walking over to a large boulder. It only took a tick for his bare feet to carry him to the mossy rock.
Lorden ran his free hand along the moist, but dry lichen of the ancient stone. Nodding in approval, the bare twenty-year-old, retracted his left hand, and shifted his clothes from his other arm, onto the rock's flat, sloped, surface. Bending over, Lorden allowed his shoes to set to the side, off on the ground. It didn't really water if the bottoms of his boots were wet, the knight figured.
Within a chime, the young man was taking his first relaxing few steps, into the deep, warming waters, of the Sacred Arch Springs. The knight all but sighed in relief, as the first of his bruises, a large whelp on his right calf, made contact with the warm liquid he was descending into. Resisting the urge to close his eyes in bliss, Lorden tarried his careful descent into the clear pool.
Barkeep was right, I do like this place, Lorden noted. The knight was banged and bruised; his right eye was swollen shut, the same side of his head was just as lumpy, and various cuts surrounded his body. Not to mention, even if you couldn't see the tares in his aching muscles, they were still definitely more than apparent to the swordsman.
Normally knights trained on their days off, but Lorden's body was a testament that he already gotten that out of the way. Now was the time to nurse his wounds, and let his body grow strong through its passed pain.
With the thought that he had earned a little rest in mind, the knight looked on at the spring more than eagerly. The warm air that coalesced around him, and embraced him as would a lover, was already beginning to soothe his muscle; but he still thirsted, nevertheless, for the bubbling waters, to rush around and against his flesh. Tugging at the bottom of his shirt, Lorden hesitantly looked about himself, before folding the cloth up and above his reasonably toned torso.
Bah, I'm no woman, the knight thought, as he shuffled his shirt to the crook of his non-dominant arm. Slowly, and through an ever-present aching, Lorden removed his boots and dropped his cloth pants. With all but the last bit of his vestments removed, the raven haired man, began unwrapping his undergarments from around his thin waist. When all the trappings of civilization had fallen or been removed from his form, leaving him bare against the warm air, Lorden bent to retrieve all of his garments.
Now, where do I... there, the knight thought with his clothes cradled in his right arm, and his leather boots hanging in his left. Seeing what he was looking for, the man began walking over to a large boulder. It only took a tick for his bare feet to carry him to the mossy rock.
Lorden ran his free hand along the moist, but dry lichen of the ancient stone. Nodding in approval, the bare twenty-year-old, retracted his left hand, and shifted his clothes from his other arm, onto the rock's flat, sloped, surface. Bending over, Lorden allowed his shoes to set to the side, off on the ground. It didn't really water if the bottoms of his boots were wet, the knight figured.
Within a chime, the young man was taking his first relaxing few steps, into the deep, warming waters, of the Sacred Arch Springs. The knight all but sighed in relief, as the first of his bruises, a large whelp on his right calf, made contact with the warm liquid he was descending into. Resisting the urge to close his eyes in bliss, Lorden tarried his careful descent into the clear pool.
