There was a finality in those words. You were dead. Dead – but how that came about, Seo did not volunteer. And Syllke could not force himself to ask any more questions. In a way, he knew the answers lay inside himself, as much as they lay with Seo. He just needed to look, to allow himself to see. But . . . not now. Not tonight. He’d had enough. He’d had all he could handle, for one evening.
Wearily, he pushed himself away from Seo’s comforting kisses, pushing himself upright and then rising to his feet, though he reached for his beloved farmer’s hand. Here, he was Seo. Not the other one, just Seo. And Syllke was a young artist from Avanthal. Not Innis. Not now. Just Syllke.
“Come. I need a bath. Come with me – I don’t want to be alone.” His voice sounded as exhausted as he felt. Seo’s beautiful, big blue eyes turned up to him and he quickly scrambled to his feet as well. With arms draped about one another’s waists, they silently made their way to the bathing room down the hall. With water warmed much in the way of a Roman bath, with an underground heater that was tended night and day, it took no time at all to fill one of the wooden tubs, while Syllke washed off the most of the mess that was on his arms and chest with a rag. Syllke eased himself into the steaming tub, followed by Seo, and though it was a bit cramped, they found room with Syllke laying back against Seo’s chest, Seo’s legs wrapped about his hips. Syllke dipped his head forward, dunking his head completely under the hot water, scrubbing at his face, before coming up blowing and wiping the streaming water from his face with his hands. He rested back against Seo again, his fingers going to entertwine with his lover’s. He slowly brought their hands to his lips, kissing Seo’s fingers.
“Shall I tell you a story, Seo? I’m sorry about . . . all of that.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of his room - his now dark eyes, tinted deep lavender, flickered upwards and sideways to try to catch a glimpse of Seo’s dear face. “I – I want to forget, for now. Let me tell you a story – a love story.” He squeezed Seo’s fingers gently. It was a peace offering, and an apology, a way to forget, and to . . . forgive – each other - all rolled into one – a gesture that at least made sense to the Vantha, for his stories were so much more than a simple series of words strung together.