Happy Holidays, detective_pao!
Dec. 26th, 2019 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
goe_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeAuthor’s note - I’m going to be honest, thinking about sensual bodies is kind of hard when it's this miserable, so this fic is more cosy than anything else. I hope you have a great holiday anyways!
Artist's note - I was really happy to have the opportunity to illustrate your gift! The best of the holiday season to you!
Rating: T
Featuring: Anathema
Summary: Anathema unwinds after a cold night of witching.
SELF CARE
Many books claim that witches practise their dark rites naked, with nothing between them and the moon. This was largely incorrect, particularly in this case. Firstly, it was freezing, and Anathema had never truly acclimated to the miserable, dark grey climate. Secondly, while it was dark, that was more due to the early winter sunset then anything else, and the constant roll of clouds added another layer between Anathema and the moon – not that it made much of a difference.
Getting home had been just as much of a trek as getting to the site itself. A mile of dense wood, squelchy fields, and an estimated dozen layers of fabric stood between her, a warm bath, and a mug of warm spiced wine.
The door groaned as she pushed it open, the old wood having swollen into the frame due the extreme weather, then promptly slammed shut. Her bag fell on the ground with a heavy thud, tools clinking against the books. A vintage lined pea coat followed, carefully placed on its assigned hook. Supporting herself with a hand on the wall, she shook her boots off awkwardly, one at a time, woolly socks slipping along as if glued to them. Shaking off the miserable feeling, she slipped on her fuzziest slippers, stretched, and sprinted up the stairs to start the bath, and promptly back down to warm up a glass of mulled wine.
Wine safely placed nearby and handy, Anathema stretched her back, arms raised, then lowered once she heard a satisfying crack, followed by a large victorious sip of the pleasantly warmed drink.
The sweater was the first to go, and woolly and insulated as it was, it wouldn't be missed for long. Next was an old top, the first she'd picked up a few hours ago – didn't need to grab something nice when she wouldn't be seen. Final step for her top half was a thermal top. Another stretch followed, this time downwards to gently roll her tights down, past her hips and thighs, then a quick pull past each foot.
Bathtub bubbling away, she twisted the tap to stop the water, then grasped the edges of the clawed tub, carefully placing one leg at a time, letting herself relax as she slipped in, pleasantly submerged in warmth. She sipped her wine, glancing over her notes, making sure to keep them above water.
Long after her fingers and toes started to prune, she reluctantly pushed herself out of the bath, quick to wrap herself in a thick fluffy robe, she sat down in the warm bathroom as the water drained, applying lotion to her arms and legs, paying extra attention to her joints.
Getting redressed regretfully included almost as many layers as going out; thankfully sans jacket. First was a loose, but much comfier sweater. Anathema smiled as the cashmere wool blend caressed her arms and chest. Next was a pair of fuzzy insulated joggers sliding along her legs, past her thighs, and tightening around the waist. She swung her side of the covers over, plopping on the bed to slip on a pair of warm socks, then slipped into layers of down and sherpa. The warm glow of her lamp illuminated her notes until she fell asleep, dreaming of the warmth of Malibu.
Artist's note - I was really happy to have the opportunity to illustrate your gift! The best of the holiday season to you!
Rating: T
Featuring: Anathema
Summary: Anathema unwinds after a cold night of witching.
SELF CARE
Many books claim that witches practise their dark rites naked, with nothing between them and the moon. This was largely incorrect, particularly in this case. Firstly, it was freezing, and Anathema had never truly acclimated to the miserable, dark grey climate. Secondly, while it was dark, that was more due to the early winter sunset then anything else, and the constant roll of clouds added another layer between Anathema and the moon – not that it made much of a difference.
Getting home had been just as much of a trek as getting to the site itself. A mile of dense wood, squelchy fields, and an estimated dozen layers of fabric stood between her, a warm bath, and a mug of warm spiced wine.
The door groaned as she pushed it open, the old wood having swollen into the frame due the extreme weather, then promptly slammed shut. Her bag fell on the ground with a heavy thud, tools clinking against the books. A vintage lined pea coat followed, carefully placed on its assigned hook. Supporting herself with a hand on the wall, she shook her boots off awkwardly, one at a time, woolly socks slipping along as if glued to them. Shaking off the miserable feeling, she slipped on her fuzziest slippers, stretched, and sprinted up the stairs to start the bath, and promptly back down to warm up a glass of mulled wine.
Wine safely placed nearby and handy, Anathema stretched her back, arms raised, then lowered once she heard a satisfying crack, followed by a large victorious sip of the pleasantly warmed drink.
The sweater was the first to go, and woolly and insulated as it was, it wouldn't be missed for long. Next was an old top, the first she'd picked up a few hours ago – didn't need to grab something nice when she wouldn't be seen. Final step for her top half was a thermal top. Another stretch followed, this time downwards to gently roll her tights down, past her hips and thighs, then a quick pull past each foot.
Bathtub bubbling away, she twisted the tap to stop the water, then grasped the edges of the clawed tub, carefully placing one leg at a time, letting herself relax as she slipped in, pleasantly submerged in warmth. She sipped her wine, glancing over her notes, making sure to keep them above water.
Long after her fingers and toes started to prune, she reluctantly pushed herself out of the bath, quick to wrap herself in a thick fluffy robe, she sat down in the warm bathroom as the water drained, applying lotion to her arms and legs, paying extra attention to her joints.
Getting redressed regretfully included almost as many layers as going out; thankfully sans jacket. First was a loose, but much comfier sweater. Anathema smiled as the cashmere wool blend caressed her arms and chest. Next was a pair of fuzzy insulated joggers sliding along her legs, past her thighs, and tightening around the waist. She swung her side of the covers over, plopping on the bed to slip on a pair of warm socks, then slipped into layers of down and sherpa. The warm glow of her lamp illuminated her notes until she fell asleep, dreaming of the warmth of Malibu.
