Evie
Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
It’s terrible torture to keep her eyes fixated on the bottles as she aimlessly straightens them when she can clearly hear the fall of his clothes. But she knows her husband well enough to assume some manner of mischief, retaliation, or obstruction awaits, and she can’t risk weakness in her defenses this early on. Massaging her husband shouldn’t feel like orchestrating a game of chess but, well, they have a unique relationship. She wouldn’t want it any other way. And toss all your thoughts out to the sea
Her laugh as he lands in a flop peters into a cough, trying to recover her visage of exasperation without success. “I’m glad you consent to the torture, I’ll make note of that.” Ensuring the basket will remain in reach, Evie slips onto the bed to straddle Deimos’ lower back and carefully moves his hair out of the way. “Will it be more or less torturous to talk as I work?” With his head turned he’ll see her cheeky grin as she leans over to grab the oil to start; lightly fir scented and meant for massage. Evie had ensured they sat in the fire-warmed room beforehand to not be cold on the skin, but she pumps it into her palms just to be safe before she lightly spreads it over the span of Deimos’ shoulders and nape. Light sweeps of her palms at a neutral pressure to encourage him to relax and anticipate the path she’ll follow as she begins to massage deeper.
I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me
So we can get lost, you and me
