#I’m now getting weird with ritual anointing oil metaphors

[swordbisexual]

Another teaser because I’m just so excited to have written so much at once again after a depressing couple of weeks that I’m like LOOK I AM SO UNWELL ABOUT HEINRIX’S HANDS AND ARMS OK

She’s afforded a view of his forearm, thick and corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair, as strong at protecting her weak side in battle as it is soft when wound around her waist. There is so much to Heinrix, wrapped up on himself in layers that he’s peeled back for her, one at a time, hardened steel giving way to leather giving way to canvas and cloth, til there’s nothing left at all but a hand that cradles her cheek just as certainly as it culls a life.