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[tilfrosset]

endgame friendly so that means spoilers may be found in here.
drop any kind of starters or overflow here.
au/canon divergence/exploration welcome.

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[tilfrosset]

[It's a quick rinse that gets most of the dirt and gunk out of Clive's hair, but Jill's not done yet. She soaps up her hands again and gets right back in there, but this time, she's working slower in firm strokes, aiming for relaxation over cleanliness. If anybody deserves it, it's Clive.

She doesn't reply immediately, but when she does speak up again, her voice is much softer, almost a hush, lending well to the pampering.]

I think Torgal would. We never did get a chance to teach him how to swim.

[At the sound of his name, the hound huffs from his curled up position on the floor. It doesn't take a translator to interpret that he has no interest in swimming or being thrown in a lake.]

[eikonically]

I imagine a brave, fearless hound such as him would have no trouble managing a little bit of water.

[The corners of his lips curve up in a smile. Oh, he knows that if he tried to toss Torgal in a lake, the wolf would manage to kick him in before he got close.

Meanwhile, he continues to let himself relax. Physical comfort was something rare to nonexistent in the days since Phoenix Gate... Until now, at least.]

[tilfrosset]

The lake's a little more than a bit of water. It's no mere puddle after a spring shower, Clive.

[She can feel him begin to loosen under her fingertips and that's enough encouragement for her slide her hands down to the nape of his neck, pressing the pads of her thumbs against the tendons there. Everything feels so tight on Clive, but Jill doesn't blame him. It'll take more than a few minutes to work out years of stress and injuries, amongst other things.

But she's trying her best even if there isn't much certainty in what she's doing. Jill's never been the recipient of a massage herself--nothing past a good scrubdown by the Rosarian ladies-in-waiting years ago--but playing things by ear seems the easiest thing to do.]

[eikonically]

And Torgal is a little more than a simple hound.

[There's another wolfy grumble and muffled woof from the wolf in question, but Clive just chuckles again.

As Jill continues, he begins to further relax, bit by bit. There's no shortage of stress and tightness built up in him, but her deft fingers are doing wonders on his muscles.]

Mm...

[tilfrosset]

[Instinct tells her to press harder in some spots, where tension balls up into tight knots, and tread lightly in others where it seems a bruise or two (maybe five with how many battles Clive gets into) threatens to bloom. The soap lather helps her fingers glide across his skin, making a path along the curve where shoulder meets neck.]

Am I doing this right?

[He's not complaining, but she also knows Clive well enough that he'd suffer through the worst of things in stoic silence. Better to actually make him speak up with a check-in.]