Fill: Half Shame, Half Glory [5/10-ish]hyde_the_bodyJune 16 2011, 05:25:55 UTC
Michael, meanwhile, was in the shower. He has been at the hotel’s gym, falling into that easy rhythm that leaves the mind blank and the body pleasantly tired. It’s late by the time his muscles have had enough, and makes his way to the communal showers.
He smells almonds.
It’s ridiculous. Of course the showers don’t smell of almonds. A second whiff of the room proves that. But the sight of frail, naked bodies overlap his vision, and the cloying scent of almonds stays with him. Michael decides to shower in his own room.
He was scrubbing furiously at his skin, trying to wash away the phantom aches and peel away ghost numbers from his arm. Trying to slough off the spectral grime of a life that wouldn’t leave him be.
He could taste ash in his mouth again.
The Irishman cut off the stream of near-scalding water and stepped out of the stall, towelling off his hair before drying the rest of himself. The blue ink is still there in his periphery, but never actually there when he inspects his forearm, and it’s driving him mad
( ... )
I was going to go to bed, but then you posted this and like a moth to a flame I was drawn...
This was so, so, so good.
The subtleties and the blending/bleeding is amazing. The languages. I love that you leave no stone unturned. This is phenomenal. I both want more and dread the end of this.
I swear to God, Assassin's Creed has given me a Bleeding Effect kink, and I will fully exploit it however, whenever I can. Anon, your compliments make the best gift. X3
This chapter was slightly more difficult (I wanted Fassy to react and be affected differently than James), and I'm greatly relieved that you approve.
Seriously, you are so awesome. Just, everything is so subtle but meaningful, and at this point still kind of spooky, and, and, Van der Graaf generator. *flail* Just- everything.
He smells almonds.
It’s ridiculous. Of course the showers don’t smell of almonds. A second whiff of the room proves that. But the sight of frail, naked bodies overlap his vision, and the cloying scent of almonds stays with him. Michael decides to shower in his own room.
He was scrubbing furiously at his skin, trying to wash away the phantom aches and peel away ghost numbers from his arm. Trying to slough off the spectral grime of a life that wouldn’t leave him be.
He could taste ash in his mouth again.
The Irishman cut off the stream of near-scalding water and stepped out of the stall, towelling off his hair before drying the rest of himself. The blue ink is still there in his periphery, but never actually there when he inspects his forearm, and it’s driving him mad ( ... )
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This was so, so, so good.
The subtleties and the blending/bleeding is amazing. The languages. I love that you leave no stone unturned. This is phenomenal. I both want more and dread the end of this.
Reply
This chapter was slightly more difficult (I wanted Fassy to react and be affected differently than James), and I'm greatly relieved that you approve.
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