[No argument that she was 'just Merida' here, no noise about dropping the title. Being a princess or lady is meaningless here. Merida's shoulders relax from their pent up state, even as her stomach churns and she manages a grateful smile. It's funny; just last month she was running around half naked during Samhain without much of a care, chasing him up towers with nothing covering her breasts without any problem. Colour is beginning to return to her cheeks, gentle smile returning as she takes the cloth, then turns and steps into the basin.
With Gilgamesh nearby, she lets herself sink into the water, feeling it wash over her legs, then her torso and chest. Merida draws her knees up, though she doesn't neglect what she's actually there for. The cloth goes up, across her chest, along her neck and shoulder, washing away the lingering feeling of being touched. The blood is washed away, and she feels less sticky. Water is splashed on her face, hands drawing back to run along her neck, feeling. There's no marks, but it feels like they're everywhere.
She was lucky that Gilgamesh was in the area, she thinks, glancing over her shoulder at him as she ran the cloth along her arm. Merida inhales softly, exhaling in a small sigh as she let the water wash away everything.]
no subject
[No argument that she was 'just Merida' here, no noise about dropping the title. Being a princess or lady is meaningless here. Merida's shoulders relax from their pent up state, even as her stomach churns and she manages a grateful smile. It's funny; just last month she was running around half naked during Samhain without much of a care, chasing him up towers with nothing covering her breasts without any problem. Colour is beginning to return to her cheeks, gentle smile returning as she takes the cloth, then turns and steps into the basin.
With Gilgamesh nearby, she lets herself sink into the water, feeling it wash over her legs, then her torso and chest. Merida draws her knees up, though she doesn't neglect what she's actually there for. The cloth goes up, across her chest, along her neck and shoulder, washing away the lingering feeling of being touched. The blood is washed away, and she feels less sticky. Water is splashed on her face, hands drawing back to run along her neck, feeling. There's no marks, but it feels like they're everywhere.
She was lucky that Gilgamesh was in the area, she thinks, glancing over her shoulder at him as she ran the cloth along her arm. Merida inhales softly, exhaling in a small sigh as she let the water wash away everything.]
Tell me a story?