At last Dru agreed; she did not need a lot of persuasion, apparently. Brandon stretched his arms and fingers, starting to do some basic warm-up exercises while the Symenestra undressed herself. It had been a while since he’d seen her without her clothing, or wrappings, though, and he could see her words held truth. Drusilla was indeed changing. Not much, but that would come. For now only her stomach appeared a little swollen, but it wasn’t that noticeable yet. Like always though, the bat was a bit surprised by how different she looked naked. Those wrappings easily deceived the eye, hiding true sizes, and added an extra layer, making the Sym look somewhat healthier. Not starved as she did now.
Brandon ushered her onto the bed, telling her to lay down. “I’m not that good,” the Kelvic warned, “I only had three days of practice at the Lady, and then a lost chime every now and then. Never on a Symenstra though, so… ” He trailed off, thinking of how to phrase it. “Tell me if I’m too … violent? Not gentle.” He could break her bones after all, and he wasn’t really sure just how much was needed to pulverize Dru’s skeleton. An ordinary punch from an untrained person could very well result in some small, but painful cracks, that much he knew. Symenestra were practically made of glass. Lethia had always said that was the one thing she liked about them; she’d found it reassuring. “At least I know I only have to tap them on the head to crack their skulls,” she’d often said. Brandon had never known whether she was serious or not. It didn’t really sound like a joke, but still she said it casually. One thing had been certain though; Lethia had never trusted the spidery race.
“Well… You can if you want to…” Brandon said hesitantly; he wasn’t really sure his mother would like to have the child of a Sym bear her name. Then again, it was Bran’s child, so… However, she never needed to find out. She couldn’t be angry if she didn’t know. If she even would be. Ah well. Those were troubles for another time. “And what will you do if it’s a boy?” If he followed Dru’s logic, it would mean she’d name her child, if it turned out to be a boy, Gallan. Or not? He shook his head slightly, deciding not to try to fathom Dru’s thought patterns, and instead focused on finding oil. A quick scan of his room revealed he had none though, as this was not the Dreaming Lady. Obviously. Of course.
Well, then he’d have to do it without. No sweat. The bat rubbed his hands together and got started, placing his hands on the Sym’s slim shoulders first, then turning back around, grabbing the vial of water and sipped. He’d almost forget he needed to rehydrate himself. Finally he did get started though, kneading as gently as he could, not quite sure how light his touch had to be, as if Dru’s shoulders were two breads. Speaking of bread, he was still a little hungry… or did he just have a craving after those twenty horrible days? Under the pretense of passing the bag of nuts to Dru –such a gentleman he could be!- the bat nabbed a handful himself, putting them in his mouth once he placed the bag back on the table.
“Now, apart from hello, are there other things you can teach me in Nari?” The bat asked, resuming his kneading of her shoulders, pushing at the joints lightly, experimenting with things he’d read in a book. Eventually though, he returned to what Theresa had taught him; simply pushing his thumbs onto the skin and rotating them. As far as he knew, it should help against the stiffness of the muscles in the neck and shoulders, but whether he was doing it right was another uncertainty.
Brandon ushered her onto the bed, telling her to lay down. “I’m not that good,” the Kelvic warned, “I only had three days of practice at the Lady, and then a lost chime every now and then. Never on a Symenstra though, so… ” He trailed off, thinking of how to phrase it. “Tell me if I’m too … violent? Not gentle.” He could break her bones after all, and he wasn’t really sure just how much was needed to pulverize Dru’s skeleton. An ordinary punch from an untrained person could very well result in some small, but painful cracks, that much he knew. Symenestra were practically made of glass. Lethia had always said that was the one thing she liked about them; she’d found it reassuring. “At least I know I only have to tap them on the head to crack their skulls,” she’d often said. Brandon had never known whether she was serious or not. It didn’t really sound like a joke, but still she said it casually. One thing had been certain though; Lethia had never trusted the spidery race.
“Well… You can if you want to…” Brandon said hesitantly; he wasn’t really sure his mother would like to have the child of a Sym bear her name. Then again, it was Bran’s child, so… However, she never needed to find out. She couldn’t be angry if she didn’t know. If she even would be. Ah well. Those were troubles for another time. “And what will you do if it’s a boy?” If he followed Dru’s logic, it would mean she’d name her child, if it turned out to be a boy, Gallan. Or not? He shook his head slightly, deciding not to try to fathom Dru’s thought patterns, and instead focused on finding oil. A quick scan of his room revealed he had none though, as this was not the Dreaming Lady. Obviously. Of course.
Well, then he’d have to do it without. No sweat. The bat rubbed his hands together and got started, placing his hands on the Sym’s slim shoulders first, then turning back around, grabbing the vial of water and sipped. He’d almost forget he needed to rehydrate himself. Finally he did get started though, kneading as gently as he could, not quite sure how light his touch had to be, as if Dru’s shoulders were two breads. Speaking of bread, he was still a little hungry… or did he just have a craving after those twenty horrible days? Under the pretense of passing the bag of nuts to Dru –such a gentleman he could be!- the bat nabbed a handful himself, putting them in his mouth once he placed the bag back on the table.
“Now, apart from hello, are there other things you can teach me in Nari?” The bat asked, resuming his kneading of her shoulders, pushing at the joints lightly, experimenting with things he’d read in a book. Eventually though, he returned to what Theresa had taught him; simply pushing his thumbs onto the skin and rotating them. As far as he knew, it should help against the stiffness of the muscles in the neck and shoulders, but whether he was doing it right was another uncertainty.
Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer