thursday pic prompt

[basslines]

the picture prompt meme

i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.

THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY.

link to an image: <a href="IMAGEURL">TEXT</a>

embed an image in your reply: <img src="IMAGEURL">

control width and height: <img src="IMAGEURL" width="INSERT"> OR <img src="IMAGEURL" height="INSERT">

Comments

[orcsurfing]

His hand released, Legolas made sure it was free of slippery suds, then wiped both hands dry in a towel. He needed a steady, firm grip on the dagger, and it seemed like there would be no better moment than now to begin — Artemis was relaxed and distracted both —, so he picked up the knife and continued talking to keep up the distraction.

"I do not care for those people," he said, gently tipping Artemis's face to one side, with a simple touch to the temple, to have best access, "What they like or what offends them, it matters little to me."

He had to bite back his own fraying nerves, for reasons entirely different than Artemis's own. It was not something he had ever done before, for reasons obvious enough; elves did not shave, and never was he close enough with a Man or a Dwarf to get to do it for them. Artemis was first, like he was first in some other matters that Legolas had yet to voice. To his credit, at the very least, his hand did not shake, not a single tremble disturbed him, and the first swipe, while unpractised and not particularly successful in a clean shave, did not take off a chunk of skin with it. Legolas frowned, wiped the blade on a clean rag and tried again.

This sure was turning out to be more difficult than he initially thought it would be.

[bitofafop]

And there it was. For a moment there, Artemis had almost hoped that in their banter, Legolas would have forgotten about the promised shave. At the very least, he had hoped that perhaps forgoing it altogether to instead lounge more comfortably in a warm bath would have seemed a more enticing offer, rather than risking the assassin's supposed wrath should anything go wrong.

There was no doubt that their teasing exchange and gentle touches had helped him to relax more than even Artemis had thought possible, but the moment the blade was in the other man's hand...

The hand that held Legolas' fell underwater to his lap, while the other briefly clenched, relaxed, and then repeated the action, a silent attempt to release the tension seeping back into him. But he allowed Legolas to move him as he needed, lips a thin line and dark eyes never leaving the elf's own. The alarms in the back of his mind, though still present, were quieter, the thrumming pulse of blood in his ears less frantic, but Legolas was thankfully, blessedly slow, and careful. Almost confident in his actions to anyone that may not have been watching his face as intently as Artemis.

He didn't flinch at the first touch of cold steel to his skin, which he was distantly proud of. But he also didn't breathe until long after it had been taken away.

"A good stance to have," he agreed, only speaking while the other man had the blade far, far away from his throat. He could trust Legolas more than any other, and it would still mean very little if a thoughtless action on his own part caused the elf to startle and leave lasting damage. "And one I'd share if the thought of their anger didn't bring great satisfaction."

[orcsurfing]

Another stroke came easier, now that Legolas knew what to expect. He was still learning in the process, but he was also a quick learner, especially when he cared to put his mind to something, as this most certainly was one of those things. Not only to not hurt Artemis with his failure, but also to simply please him with a job well done. It was an offer made to make his life easier, to help him relax — though it had already backfired on that terribly —, not to make it more difficult or unpleasant, after all.

"Waste not your thought on their anger," he chided gently, playfully, arching his brows as his gaze flickered between the task at hand and meeting Artemis's eyes, "I could show you the same satisfaction from simply living; I think I could also show you better if you had wanted."

It was a strange sound of the blade scraping along scruffy skin, it felt strange as well, and it was not as smooth as he hoped, not even with the motion more practised, a little more confident.

"There is no greater joy in life, after all, than... the life itself, yours and of all that grows around you."

Again, he pulled back when the blade gathered soap and shaven hair, grabbing the same rag as before to wipe it. He took his time, just long enough so that Artemis got the time to speak, if he wanted to— it was not too hard to notice how quiet (and tense) he got when the blade was too close.