OPEN POST; [ THE DARKLING / SHADOW AND BONE ]

[darklingingly]

Comments

completely platonic bath or something

[deathdefy]

[ Phanora's work takes her all over the place, though it's rare that Johan doesn't accompany her. She'd had him tend to another problem that she would have trusted precious few people with, though she hadn't said that to him in as many words, just told him it sounded like something a servant ought to handle, not his Master.

He'd gone, huffily, and she'd turned her attention to handling the surge of unregistered undead in a town just at the outskirts of a much larger city. She hadn't expected to run into a familiar face while doing her work, but she's less surprised (somewhat) when she steps into the communal bath (entirely indoors, water heated, surprisingly fancy) hours later and finds him already there. It's late, most people already cleaned and preparing themselves for bed, but she likes these quiet hours. ]

I didn't think I'd have company, this late.

[darklingingly]

[The water is warm and enveloping, uncoiling tension wound tight in his muscles. The Darkling enjoys the quiet of the late hour, enjoys the nighttime solitude after everyone’s gone and retired to their homes, to their beds. In stretches of time much like these, he can keep to himself — but a concept that’s so easily shattered when a familiar voice reverberates in the bath hall, and he opens his eyes to trail his dark gaze over to Phanora.

He leans against the edge of the bath. The water goes up to his collarbones, steaming pleasantly with its perpetually heated temperatures.]

You’re not the only night owl around here, Phanora. [His brow arches faintly.] You don’t mind the company, do you?

[deathdefy]

If I minded the company, I wouldn't have spoken at all and just left.

[ She's not the type to force herself to endure another's company unless she has business with them that she can't shirk or put off on Johan, after all. ]

[darklingingly]

[He has to actually chuckle at that, low but sincerely amused. The sound of rippling, indicative of movement. Sweeping a hand out towards the steaming surface of the water, he urges-]

Then I'm glad to have your approval. Come on in. The water's perfect right now.

[deathdefy]

I'm glad to have your permission, I suppose.

[ And she lowers her towel, not really the type to take it into the water, stepping into said water without shame and a little bit of a sigh. She seems, if not content, vaguely satisfied with the state of things. ]

[darklingingly]

[He does raise a dark brow, but the Darkling is gentleman enough, he supposes, to turn his head away into she slips into the water properly. At least then most everything else is obscured by faint tendrils of steam.]

Like I could have stopped you, either way.

[Chuckling, he looks at her again.]

Long day?

[deathdefy]

It often is, with illegal necromancy.

[ A slightly longer sigh now. ]

How unfortunate.

[darklingingly]

Oh?

[His curiosity is piqued. It always is, given these things — magics that are not like the skill of the Grisha that he knows.]

Illegal necromancy… That sounds like it ended messily.

[The look of expectation in his eyes. Tell him?]

[deathdefy]

It often does. Those revived illegally who are then left to their own devices descend into madness.