#yyanthe

It’d been a long day and everything that could hurt did hurt.  As he sheds his clothes, Yyanthe takes stock of old scars, new scars and new injuries.  The brush of leather and cloth against his hands causes them to sting and he promptly looks down to locate the small cuts. He frowns as he tries to remember where he got any of them and then gives up.  Reaching up, he removes the clasp from his hair and grunts as even the roots of his hair seem to hurt.

“Shouldn’t have tied it up when it was wet,” He mutters. Yyanthe glances around the bathroom, locates a fuzzy rug and tosses the clasp onto it.  Just as Yyanthe turns away from it to fiddle with the faucet, the door opens. 

Briefly, he considers posing like that pirate on his favorite rum bottle and just as briefly, he discards that idea.  Well, it wouldn’t be anyone that I didn’t know.  It’s my father’s house and he wouldn’t just walk in impolitely.  No one one would do that. I’m safe.  Yyanthe thinks to himself and turns back toward the door and folds his arms across his chest.

“My lord, I have–”  The servant girl immediately stops talking and drops the tray she had been carrying full of various toiletries.  One of the bottles doesn’t break, surprisingly, merely bounces and rolls and only stops rolling when it hits Yyanthe’s bare foot.  Several agonizing seconds pass before she begins hurriedly blurting out apologies about walking in, she knocked, she swears and she thought that he said come in and oh here are the things that his father thought would be good for him and she’s sorry and she RUNS.

But not before he hears, “Oh, Sunwell, it’s pierced–I didn’t know!”