"thank you, your grace," he says, bowing his head as humbly as he can. he passes through the threshold, sneaks a longing look at her body, and then traipses past her into the shower. 

"now come here so i can properly wash her grace," he calls after lathering some soap onto his pits and in his hair. because he'd rather not have to deal with eden smelling his wet dog self while he's pampering her. 

@eden

☉

ah, he can see how his remark may have been demanding. but as long as they're playing this game, he'll comply. so he dips his head in apology and says, "please, my lady," with a grin tugging at his lips. 

his eyes are light. he's relaxed. part of it is exhaustion from being anxiety-ridden for the last hour, but a lot of it is her. she's healthy. she's happier. the hot springs did her some good and though she still whimpers in her sleep, he's been able to keep the insomnia at bay. 

everything is right, and everything makes sense, and that's all he needs. so of course he holds up soapy hands and says, "please? may i wash you?"

@eden

☉