I don't want to hear that from someone who sees fit to own slaves.
[ there's venom on his tongue, and whatever nostalgia clouds his heart is so quickly replaced with that same familiar rage. kaveh does not think twice before he rises, taunt successful, taking with him the clean robes and dry towels the servants had brought, alongside his earrings. no matter what happens, he refuses to take his eyes off of them. he storms to the bathroom, and kaveh being kaveh, he's loud even when he shuts the door behind him.
it takes him a long, long time to bathe.
the first half is spent thinking. he has had several moments by himself, him and his thoughts. almost the entire day, from morning to evening, when alhaitham went to bathe himself, and now. he does not strip just yet, and allows fatigue to catch up to him. mental, emotional fatigue. in his intricate mind, his memories are put together like a jigsaw puzzle.
his mother had been away on a trip to fontaine to visit a friend, ever so clueless of what would befall lokapala in her absence. he thinks by now, surely someone would've sent her a missive, and his heart sinks with worry. her people murdered or enslaved. her only son claimed by the enemy kingdom. her husband—
murdered, too. the news were delivered to him by the eremites, spoken between casual conversation. their voices ring in his ears as though they are people who stand right next to him once again: what of the king?, dead, with barely a struggle. not that he could have done anything, eight against one. fool that he is doesn't even keep guards around. one of us could've handled him easily.
that same day, kaveh had told his father's personal guards to leave their post if only for a night. brothers, he remembers them, one recently turned father. they were loyal, committed to their duty, eager to serve. kaveh had told them to celebrate the birth of a new life, a new addition to their family. a person's happiest memory will always be of their home, and a child should have the company of their mother and father. they insisted to stay. kaveh retorted that one night would do no one any harm.
what a fool he had been. he has never been one to be blessed with good luck, but this he does not blame on whatever god is responsible for a person's fortune or misfortune. alone with his thoughts, he had constantly blamed no one but himself. would the raid have gone differently, had he not said anything? would the guards have been able to defend their king? their prince? their people? would he be at home now, back in a kingdom stained red, but a place he belongs? is he the one meant to carry the sorrow and guilt of all the lives lost?
would he let anyone else carry his burden? of course not.
drowning in his own melancholy, the other half of his bath is spent under cold water. most of it is used to rinse his mouth, over and over and over, but it never feels truly clean. kaveh rubs and scrubs at his skin time and time again, and that, too, doesn't wash away the filth. only when it's red and hurt and burning under the touch, is when he considers his bathing to be over.
it had been forty minutes since the bathroom door had been closed, and he emerges from it without a word. he does not offer a look at alhaitham either, instead finding his way to the divan again, where he seats himself with a towel over his head. the scenery is, at the very least, beautiful to look at. he'll be admiring it for most of the night. ]
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sorry for my fanfic. it will probably happen again
Date: 2023-04-12 11:32 pm (UTC)[ there's venom on his tongue, and whatever nostalgia clouds his heart is so quickly replaced with that same familiar rage. kaveh does not think twice before he rises, taunt successful, taking with him the clean robes and dry towels the servants had brought, alongside his earrings. no matter what happens, he refuses to take his eyes off of them. he storms to the bathroom, and kaveh being kaveh, he's loud even when he shuts the door behind him.
it takes him a long, long time to bathe.
the first half is spent thinking. he has had several moments by himself, him and his thoughts. almost the entire day, from morning to evening, when alhaitham went to bathe himself, and now. he does not strip just yet, and allows fatigue to catch up to him. mental, emotional fatigue. in his intricate mind, his memories are put together like a jigsaw puzzle.
his mother had been away on a trip to fontaine to visit a friend, ever so clueless of what would befall lokapala in her absence. he thinks by now, surely someone would've sent her a missive, and his heart sinks with worry. her people murdered or enslaved. her only son claimed by the enemy kingdom. her husband—
murdered, too. the news were delivered to him by the eremites, spoken between casual conversation. their voices ring in his ears as though they are people who stand right next to him once again: what of the king?, dead, with barely a struggle. not that he could have done anything, eight against one. fool that he is doesn't even keep guards around. one of us could've handled him easily.
that same day, kaveh had told his father's personal guards to leave their post if only for a night. brothers, he remembers them, one recently turned father. they were loyal, committed to their duty, eager to serve. kaveh had told them to celebrate the birth of a new life, a new addition to their family. a person's happiest memory will always be of their home, and a child should have the company of their mother and father. they insisted to stay. kaveh retorted that one night would do no one any harm.
what a fool he had been. he has never been one to be blessed with good luck, but this he does not blame on whatever god is responsible for a person's fortune or misfortune. alone with his thoughts, he had constantly blamed no one but himself. would the raid have gone differently, had he not said anything? would the guards have been able to defend their king? their prince? their people? would he be at home now, back in a kingdom stained red, but a place he belongs? is he the one meant to carry the sorrow and guilt of all the lives lost?
would he let anyone else carry his burden? of course not.
drowning in his own melancholy, the other half of his bath is spent under cold water. most of it is used to rinse his mouth, over and over and over, but it never feels truly clean. kaveh rubs and scrubs at his skin time and time again, and that, too, doesn't wash away the filth. only when it's red and hurt and burning under the touch, is when he considers his bathing to be over.
it had been forty minutes since the bathroom door had been closed, and he emerges from it without a word. he does not offer a look at alhaitham either, instead finding his way to the divan again, where he seats himself with a towel over his head. the scenery is, at the very least, beautiful to look at. he'll be admiring it for most of the night. ]