It turned out that day would not be the day Ulric would get to see the Elven smiths work. It was just a few minutes after he and his Shadow had settled into a heavy silence that the messengers of Irielhos found them and reported that they could be resettled if they would follow this way please.
Ulric acquiesced, for lack of any better options, and they were led to a set of rooms on the ninth level, one down, from where they had been found. Again and again the architecture, the free flowing natural sculpture, the blending of raw timber, living tree, and worked lumber wove together seamlessly to create a tapestry that was as a prayer to the living world to Ulric's eye. At the end of the day, the Elves loved life. All that they were screamed it. These deep woods folk, while at times harder than the hinges on the gates of hell, were a product of a violent world they were determined to be one with and in which they would live long, loving every minute of it. He wasn't sure, not having spent anything close to enough time to gain the data to back this instinct up, but he had a feeling that, of all of its tribes and peoples, Iriel made up the beating heart of Orlethrem.
The apartments Ulric was led to were finer than the last, which had held a certain air of spartan simplicity. The previous room was, evidently, a Warrior's quarters. He had no recollection of how he'd gotten there or what had taken place to lead to that eventuality but the lovely Elf lass that had so thoroughly used him was, according to his host a man-at-arms of sorts and a sister to one of the royal guards. Comparing these quarters to those, there was little to indicate that the apartments for the soldiery were purely utilitarian. Both apartments had been carved as beatifically as if for an artist. What separated this housing from the those of the wondrous vision that had greeted him on the morn, was in the layout.
This lodging was larger in size, for one. Two rooms linked through a central sitting room. The smaller room was for Geyrt, as befitting a lord's Shadow, a still baffling component to Ulric's sensibilities. The larger room was for himself and it held a treat in a large wall length book shelf packed with leather bound tomes. All of these were in Elvish which meant Ulric wouldn't be able to read a single word of them, a cocktease of such majestic proportion he could have wept. Sitting down to a fine book had been one of his greatest pleasures. A pleasure so long denied him here, though he'd scarcely had time to simply recline by the fire and pour over a history or meander through a treatise on some arcane treatment for metallic crystallization. A man could dream though. He resolved that, during this winter, he would learn the script that would unlock the gates of paradise. Turning his attention elsewhere he noted exceedingly fine furniture, with all the inlays, majestic representations of Iriel'en druidic worship of growing things he had come to expect, if not become indifferent to.
Other flourishes included a balcony he could walk out onto, to gaze overlooking the evening suns, which even now fell towards the horizon, casting golden light upon the Elven citadel and the grand forest it guarded. The bewildered man simply had to inspect these floor length woven veranda portals that did not appear capable of resisting the elements, yet allowed no movement of heat from the outside to the interior. Opening the swinging doors, he went out upon the balcony to examine the unfolding of the fortress levels that spiraled beneath him and the monumental vista that stretched to the horizon, whose distant mountainous peaks were actually much farther away than his senses had implied. Ulric didn't stay out there for long however, a pounding wind that held chill enough to cut through to his bones was present. The storm was approaching. Leaves were flying freely now but, apparently, it would be this storm which would strip the trees and commence Winter's reign.
Ulric was then informed that a bath, an honest to gods bath was available for his use. Why had these long eared monsters not said something beforehand? Here he stood in the dirt of a nearly week long crawl through the rough woodland terrain, sweat soaked leather, and covered in the blood of the monsters he'd killed. And nobody had said not one word about a bath. He couldn't smell himself any longer; that scent was long gone, filtered out so his brain could focus on odors that indicated pointed canines and sharpened claws or the prey smell that would be food for his belly. Ulric froze briefly at a thought. Ye gods was that why his lover the last night left so soon? No matter how good a lay you were, if you smelled like he probably smelled there was no bearing it. No, wait, pump the brakes Glade Chief. These are the hardiest, toughest, sonsofbitches he'd ever even heard of. A little dirt was not going to put them off. A child of their people waded through the guts of his foes and treated it like nothing. It's fine. Don't over think shit.
Brain wrangled, something he hadn't really had to do in a while, probably because he didn't give two fucks about much being by himself, he was off to the bath, Shadow in tow. He hoped she'd get a turn, it must suck being forced to wait hand and foot and she's just walking right on into the bath with him. Ok, Ulric rationalized, that was dumb. Where was the best place to murder your lord? The bathroom, where they were completely naked and defenseless, of course you check it out. Duh. This Shadow stuff was going to take some getting used to.
Ulric gave her a minute to scope out the situation while he settled himself and started to remove his armor. He really should have done that back in his rooms but he'd been so excited about the prospect of a bath that he'd barely stopped to unheft his pack and prop his trident on the wall next to the bed. Off came the shoulder pauldrons. The straps of his semi lorica came next and he shed the thing, along with its attached leather jerkin, to stand naked to the waist. At last. He had come to the realization, long ago in the glade, that, temperature permitting, he actually enjoyed being naked. It was liberating. Next came the belt, vambrace, shin guards and armored skirt. Finally, he'd returned to nature's intent and turned around to find Geyrt Iriel, the most glorious living creature he'd ever seen, butt naked holding a basket that had something in it, gesturing towards the water. Ulric would never be able to say, with any certainty what was in that basket. Even the basket might have been a trick of the light.
Nobody mentioned, at any point, that the baths were unisex. It also never occurred to anyone to mention that a Shadow always bathed with their lord, for the purpose of fulfilling their duty, which again, should have been obvious to him, but was not because he was an idiot. Furthermore, and this was incredibly unfair, there was no sense of propriety amongst the Elves regarding catcalling.
This was how he found himself, shocked to his literal core, spinning to face a series of isolated pools surrounding a single large pool, steam billowing, from which a chorus of whistles were airing their appreciation of his form. It was a three to one split on which whistles were from female vs male elves. There are some things that a harsh life of survival in the wilderness do not prepare you for. Actually, this might be the literal only one that doesn't come up sooner or later.
Embarrassment flushed through him, bringing a brilliant blush he couldn't stop. He was very nearly going to flee until he witnessed his Shadow striding past easily to step into the pool and recline comfortably, a sigh escaping her lips. He couldn't help but follow her motion with his eyes. He wasn't the only one. And then he made a minor breakthrough. So then…this is what it is to be treated like an object of sexual gratification. After a moment's reflection…You know what? Ulric thought. Not bad he decided. Not bad at all. Fuck it, I look good enough to eat. Let'em watch. He turned, making a point to do it slowly, which set off another round of whistles, and strode to set himself into the pool next to his Shadow who had appeared to dissolve into a contented slick of darkness just beneath the water. When he hit the water, he found out why. It was perfect. An absolute perfect temperature, hot enough to melt the tension in the body. He couldn't suppress a groan as he slid into the pool.
With the show over, the bathers returned to their conversations and hygiene. This was probably yet another Elven rite of passage. They seemed determined to weed out insecurities of any kind. Including self-consciousness or body image issues. Apparently if you weren't comfortable in your own skin, they figured it was because you were trying to hide some kind of flaw. I mean…he thought…they weren't wrong. It's just that no one in his old world would have been bluntly ruthless enough to point it out or make a show of your insecurity. Or maybe it's just that, the Elves were collectively ass afficionados and Ulric passed muster.
He didn't know and, now that he'd had time to dismiss the almost instinctive remnants of semi puritan social conventions of a world long dead to him, decided he didn't care. We all are who we are. And fuck anybody who has a problem with it. Besides, now that he'd settled in, the view in the baths was well worth the ticket price. He saw the entire spectrum of Elven physique displayed here, in all their glory. Men and women alike, the Iriel'en were nearly intimidating for their beauty. Many sat on the sides of the pools completely exposed and not a whit of concern about it. They were…free. Liberated. None of the pseudo-christian guilt or body shame. None of the sexist determinations about which parts of the body were considered profane or overtly sexual whatever the hell that had ever meant. Like the entire body wasn't a sexual object. You find me a room with a thousand people in it, and I will find you an anatomy book's worth of fetishes, he mused to himself. The Elves in the bath were, all of them, comfortable. And their comfort made Ulric comfortable.
Eyes closed Ulric let himself bask in the heat that was, even now, leeching into his bones. He lost track of time, mind emptied.
"It is good that you didn't run." Geyrt's voice, low and private, broke his zen.
"Most humans avoid the baths or only cleanse themselves in isolation. In the other cities of Orlethrem otherkin are far more common and they have odd behavior around the baths. They pretend that there are no others and, mostly, flee, when we whistle them. It is a game to most of the Iriel'en who are stationed or traveling through these places to see if they will be soft enough to leave when we welcome them to the bath. We do not know why they fear their own nudity, each of us carries scars and defects and it is foolish to obsess over the attitudes of a stranger. But it is good that you don't share this weakness."
So said the most flawless living woman he'd ever seen. Guess it's easy to be confident when you're stunning. It was not very long ago that Ulric would not have been pleased to be seen naked. Between the scars, the limp, and the thirty pounds of extra weight. No indeed, confidence was more difficult when there were flaws to be observed. The elves hazed people to see how brave they were. Now why did that not surprise him?
"It was the custom of my people to bath mostly in isolation for the purpose of cleaning only. There were different places for relaxation, for the most part. A similar place, the steam room, was where we relaxed in the nude. I was fairly unbothered by those environments although many did not share this lack of reservation. There were…social precepts that dictated nudity was a thing only shared between lovers and close kin, for the most part. Some took it to extremes, prudes. Back then it seemed normal, it was just the way of things." Ulric explained, not sure why he felt a need to.
"Now, outside of that place, it does seem a little silly. Almost juvenile, to be afraid of the perceptions of others or your own body. I know your people live an insulated life here, but it bears thinking that some people are trained from birth to have certain…outlooks or reservations…that would make your teasing threatening. That's the point though I guess…you can't see how brave someone is until you show them something they fear. Still though, isn't that a little, I dunno, hostile?" He asked.
"So what if it is?” She asked, honestly confused. “Why is it our responsibility to coddle the weaknesses of Otherkin? If they falter at a crowd of whistles, how will their nerve hold when a Greater Beast roars down their spine? Better to know who would stand at your shoulder and who would flee. And, besides, it is not only a thing done to harass, it is a genuine praise. Only the ones who thought you attractive would call. None would do so purely for spite, that would be reason for insult and challenge. It would be rude. Among us the sight of one's body is not a thing to own or whose appreciation is to be a reason for offense, barring that you have made your feelings on the matter known. Besides, I know your eyes follow my hips when I walk and I do not object." His Shadow replied.
Busted. Well, not like he tried to hide it or anything. Hadn't he admitted already that he found her beautiful? It was just another thing to acclimate to, their odd mix of subtle discourse mixed with blunt straightforwardness. He did need to push back a little though.
"Didn't you say my gaze felt like acid not real long ago? Among some other things that don't bear repeating." He pointed out, eyes still closed as he soaked.
Oddly enough that did seem to disturb her, for once. He heard hands scrubbing through midnight hair freed from its intricate braid and low mutterings in Elvish he couldn't follow. Eventually she gathered her thoughts enough to defend herself, or so he thought.
"I would prefer you forget that. All of it. I was trying to incite you, trying to build cause to either kill you myself or have Father do it. I said things no Iriel'en should say and the memory burns. I would ask this: please forget everything that has happened before my Father's proclamation. You do not owe me this, I have earned my shame. But I would not have you think that such words reflect on my people, my hatreds were my own. We have our own ways of seeing the world and our own expectations, and these are viewed as harsh by outsiders. We do not however, as a rule, hate the Otherkin, even if we would believe their ways sometimes backwards or soft." She said, in a milder tone than was her norm.
That was, near as he could tell, the closest thing to an apology that this thorny woman was capable of, Ulric thought. Best to quit while you're ahead.
"I can live with that. It's a hell of an ask, but I can live with it. But only if you stop thinking that every time I do something that diverges from the norm in Iriel that I'm some heathen that does it to spite you. I have an entire literal lifetime of prejudices, expectations, histories, assumptions, and straight up nonsense that I have to wade through to understand you people, with none of the benefit of ever having been raise in this world. You don't always say it but I can feel it crawling between those ears. I will not be treated as some uncultured barbarian, and I expect your help to understand how to fit in with your kin." He told her softly but firmly.
Ulric turned to face her held her gaze while he did it. This was not a matter on which he was prepared to budge. He thought she might object to the ears comment, but she squashed that frown quickly and instead held out her hand.
"Done. I will accept your limitations if you will leave my shame in the past." She said.
Taking her hand and giving it a single squeeze he sealed the bargain.
"Done."
A second deal closed and a bargain at that. Ulric was starting to feel good about the fair folk.
It turned out that day would not be the day Ulric would get to see the Elven smiths work. It was just a few minutes after he and his Shadow had settled into a heavy silence that the messengers of Irielhos found them and reported that they could be resettled if they would follow this way please.
Ulric acquiesced, for lack of any better options, and they were led to a set of rooms on the ninth level, one down, from where they had been found. Again and again the architecture, the free flowing natural sculpture, the blending of raw timber, living tree, and worked lumber wove together seamlessly to create a tapestry that was as a prayer to the living world to Ulric's eye. At the end of the day, the Elves loved life. All that they were screamed it. These deep woods folk, while at times harder than the hinges on the gates of hell, were a product of a violent world they were determined to be one with and in which they would live long, loving every minute of it. He wasn't sure, not having spent anything close to enough time to gain the data to back this instinct up, but he had a feeling that, of all of its tribes and peoples, Iriel made up the beating heart of Orlethrem.
The apartments Ulric was led to were finer than the last, which had held a certain air of spartan simplicity. The previous room was, evidently, a Warrior's quarters. He had no recollection of how he'd gotten there or what had taken place to lead to that eventuality but the lovely Elf lass that had so thoroughly used him was, according to his host a man-at-arms of sorts and a sister to one of the royal guards. Comparing these quarters to those, there was little to indicate that the apartments for the soldiery were purely utilitarian. Both apartments had been carved as beatifically as if for an artist. What separated this housing from the those of the wondrous vision that had greeted him on the morn, was in the layout.
This lodging was larger in size, for one. Two rooms linked through a central sitting room. The smaller room was for Geyrt, as befitting a lord's Shadow, a still baffling component to Ulric's sensibilities. The larger room was for himself and it held a treat in a large wall length book shelf packed with leather bound tomes. All of these were in Elvish which meant Ulric wouldn't be able to read a single word of them, a cocktease of such majestic proportion he could have wept. Sitting down to a fine book had been one of his greatest pleasures. A pleasure so long denied him here, though he'd scarcely had time to simply recline by the fire and pour over a history or meander through a treatise on some arcane treatment for metallic crystallization. A man could dream though. He resolved that, during this winter, he would learn the script that would unlock the gates of paradise. Turning his attention elsewhere he noted exceedingly fine furniture, with all the inlays, majestic representations of Iriel'en druidic worship of growing things he had come to expect, if not become indifferent to.
Other flourishes included a balcony he could walk out onto, to gaze overlooking the evening suns, which even now fell towards the horizon, casting golden light upon the Elven citadel and the grand forest it guarded. The bewildered man simply had to inspect these floor length woven veranda portals that did not appear capable of resisting the elements, yet allowed no movement of heat from the outside to the interior. Opening the swinging doors, he went out upon the balcony to examine the unfolding of the fortress levels that spiraled beneath him and the monumental vista that stretched to the horizon, whose distant mountainous peaks were actually much farther away than his senses had implied. Ulric didn't stay out there for long however, a pounding wind that held chill enough to cut through to his bones was present. The storm was approaching. Leaves were flying freely now but, apparently, it would be this storm which would strip the trees and commence Winter's reign.
Ulric was then informed that a bath, an honest to gods bath was available for his use. Why had these long eared monsters not said something beforehand? Here he stood in the dirt of a nearly week long crawl through the rough woodland terrain, sweat soaked leather, and covered in the blood of the monsters he'd killed. And nobody had said not one word about a bath. He couldn't smell himself any longer; that scent was long gone, filtered out so his brain could focus on odors that indicated pointed canines and sharpened claws or the prey smell that would be food for his belly. Ulric froze briefly at a thought. Ye gods was that why his lover the last night left so soon? No matter how good a lay you were, if you smelled like he probably smelled there was no bearing it. No, wait, pump the brakes Glade Chief. These are the hardiest, toughest, sonsofbitches he'd ever even heard of. A little dirt was not going to put them off. A child of their people waded through the guts of his foes and treated it like nothing. It's fine. Don't over think shit.
Brain wrangled, something he hadn't really had to do in a while, probably because he didn't give two fucks about much being by himself, he was off to the bath, Shadow in tow. He hoped she'd get a turn, it must suck being forced to wait hand and foot and she's just walking right on into the bath with him. Ok, Ulric rationalized, that was dumb. Where was the best place to murder your lord? The bathroom, where they were completely naked and defenseless, of course you check it out. Duh. This Shadow stuff was going to take some getting used to.
Ulric gave her a minute to scope out the situation while he settled himself and started to remove his armor. He really should have done that back in his rooms but he'd been so excited about the prospect of a bath that he'd barely stopped to unheft his pack and prop his trident on the wall next to the bed. Off came the shoulder pauldrons. The straps of his semi lorica came next and he shed the thing, along with its attached leather jerkin, to stand naked to the waist. At last. He had come to the realization, long ago in the glade, that, temperature permitting, he actually enjoyed being naked. It was liberating. Next came the belt, vambrace, shin guards and armored skirt. Finally, he'd returned to nature's intent and turned around to find Geyrt Iriel, the most glorious living creature he'd ever seen, butt naked holding a basket that had something in it, gesturing towards the water. Ulric would never be able to say, with any certainty what was in that basket. Even the basket might have been a trick of the light.
Nobody mentioned, at any point, that the baths were unisex. It also never occurred to anyone to mention that a Shadow always bathed with their lord, for the purpose of fulfilling their duty, which again, should have been obvious to him, but was not because he was an idiot. Furthermore, and this was incredibly unfair, there was no sense of propriety amongst the Elves regarding catcalling.
This was how he found himself, shocked to his literal core, spinning to face a series of isolated pools surrounding a single large pool, steam billowing, from which a chorus of whistles were airing their appreciation of his form. It was a three to one split on which whistles were from female vs male elves. There are some things that a harsh life of survival in the wilderness do not prepare you for. Actually, this might be the literal only one that doesn't come up sooner or later.
Embarrassment flushed through him, bringing a brilliant blush he couldn't stop. He was very nearly going to flee until he witnessed his Shadow striding past easily to step into the pool and recline comfortably, a sigh escaping her lips. He couldn't help but follow her motion with his eyes. He wasn't the only one. And then he made a minor breakthrough. So then…this is what it is to be treated like an object of sexual gratification. After a moment's reflection…You know what? Ulric thought. Not bad he decided. Not bad at all. Fuck it, I look good enough to eat. Let'em watch. He turned, making a point to do it slowly, which set off another round of whistles, and strode to set himself into the pool next to his Shadow who had appeared to dissolve into a contented slick of darkness just beneath the water. When he hit the water, he found out why. It was perfect. An absolute perfect temperature, hot enough to melt the tension in the body. He couldn't suppress a groan as he slid into the pool.
With the show over, the bathers returned to their conversations and hygiene. This was probably yet another Elven rite of passage. They seemed determined to weed out insecurities of any kind. Including self-consciousness or body image issues. Apparently if you weren't comfortable in your own skin, they figured it was because you were trying to hide some kind of flaw. I mean…he thought…they weren't wrong. It's just that no one in his old world would have been bluntly ruthless enough to point it out or make a show of your insecurity. Or maybe it's just that, the Elves were collectively ass afficionados and Ulric passed muster.
He didn't know and, now that he'd had time to dismiss the almost instinctive remnants of semi puritan social conventions of a world long dead to him, decided he didn't care. We all are who we are. And fuck anybody who has a problem with it. Besides, now that he'd settled in, the view in the baths was well worth the ticket price. He saw the entire spectrum of Elven physique displayed here, in all their glory. Men and women alike, the Iriel'en were nearly intimidating for their beauty. Many sat on the sides of the pools completely exposed and not a whit of concern about it. They were…free. Liberated. None of the pseudo-christian guilt or body shame. None of the sexist determinations about which parts of the body were considered profane or overtly sexual whatever the hell that had ever meant. Like the entire body wasn't a sexual object. You find me a room with a thousand people in it, and I will find you an anatomy book's worth of fetishes, he mused to himself. The Elves in the bath were, all of them, comfortable. And their comfort made Ulric comfortable.
Eyes closed Ulric let himself bask in the heat that was, even now, leeching into his bones. He lost track of time, mind emptied.
"It is good that you didn't run." Geyrt's voice, low and private, broke his zen.
"Most humans avoid the baths or only cleanse themselves in isolation. In the other cities of Orlethrem otherkin are far more common and they have odd behavior around the baths. They pretend that there are no others and, mostly, flee, when we whistle them. It is a game to most of the Iriel'en who are stationed or traveling through these places to see if they will be soft enough to leave when we welcome them to the bath. We do not know why they fear their own nudity, each of us carries scars and defects and it is foolish to obsess over the attitudes of a stranger. But it is good that you don't share this weakness."
So said the most flawless living woman he'd ever seen. Guess it's easy to be confident when you're stunning. It was not very long ago that Ulric would not have been pleased to be seen naked. Between the scars, the limp, and the thirty pounds of extra weight. No indeed, confidence was more difficult when there were flaws to be observed. The elves hazed people to see how brave they were. Now why did that not surprise him?
"It was the custom of my people to bath mostly in isolation for the purpose of cleaning only. There were different places for relaxation, for the most part. A similar place, the steam room, was where we relaxed in the nude. I was fairly unbothered by those environments although many did not share this lack of reservation. There were…social precepts that dictated nudity was a thing only shared between lovers and close kin, for the most part. Some took it to extremes, prudes. Back then it seemed normal, it was just the way of things." Ulric explained, not sure why he felt a need to.
"Now, outside of that place, it does seem a little silly. Almost juvenile, to be afraid of the perceptions of others or your own body. I know your people live an insulated life here, but it bears thinking that some people are trained from birth to have certain…outlooks or reservations…that would make your teasing threatening. That's the point though I guess…you can't see how brave someone is until you show them something they fear. Still though, isn't that a little, I dunno, hostile?" He asked.
"So what if it is?” She asked, honestly confused. “Why is it our responsibility to coddle the weaknesses of Otherkin? If they falter at a crowd of whistles, how will their nerve hold when a Greater Beast roars down their spine? Better to know who would stand at your shoulder and who would flee. And, besides, it is not only a thing done to harass, it is a genuine praise. Only the ones who thought you attractive would call. None would do so purely for spite, that would be reason for insult and challenge. It would be rude. Among us the sight of one's body is not a thing to own or whose appreciation is to be a reason for offense, barring that you have made your feelings on the matter known. Besides, I know your eyes follow my hips when I walk and I do not object." His Shadow replied.
Busted. Well, not like he tried to hide it or anything. Hadn't he admitted already that he found her beautiful? It was just another thing to acclimate to, their odd mix of subtle discourse mixed with blunt straightforwardness. He did need to push back a little though.
"Didn't you say my gaze felt like acid not real long ago? Among some other things that don't bear repeating." He pointed out, eyes still closed as he soaked.
Oddly enough that did seem to disturb her, for once. He heard hands scrubbing through midnight hair freed from its intricate braid and low mutterings in Elvish he couldn't follow. Eventually she gathered her thoughts enough to defend herself, or so he thought.
"I would prefer you forget that. All of it. I was trying to incite you, trying to build cause to either kill you myself or have Father do it. I said things no Iriel'en should say and the memory burns. I would ask this: please forget everything that has happened before my Father's proclamation. You do not owe me this, I have earned my shame. But I would not have you think that such words reflect on my people, my hatreds were my own. We have our own ways of seeing the world and our own expectations, and these are viewed as harsh by outsiders. We do not however, as a rule, hate the Otherkin, even if we would believe their ways sometimes backwards or soft." She said, in a milder tone than was her norm.
That was, near as he could tell, the closest thing to an apology that this thorny woman was capable of, Ulric thought. Best to quit while you're ahead.
"I can live with that. It's a hell of an ask, but I can live with it. But only if you stop thinking that every time I do something that diverges from the norm in Iriel that I'm some heathen that does it to spite you. I have an entire literal lifetime of prejudices, expectations, histories, assumptions, and straight up nonsense that I have to wade through to understand you people, with none of the benefit of ever having been raise in this world. You don't always say it but I can feel it crawling between those ears. I will not be treated as some uncultured barbarian, and I expect your help to understand how to fit in with your kin." He told her softly but firmly.
Ulric turned to face her held her gaze while he did it. This was not a matter on which he was prepared to budge. He thought she might object to the ears comment, but she squashed that frown quickly and instead held out her hand.
"Done. I will accept your limitations if you will leave my shame in the past." She said.
Taking her hand and giving it a single squeeze he sealed the bargain.
"Done."
A second deal closed and a bargain at that. Ulric was starting to feel good about the fair folk.
