Nestled betwixt the evergreen woodland and an abruptly rising rockface, lay the wash-house.
The sun was only rising, the old wooden beams holding up the roof much akin to the surrounding trees with their vibrant gradient of dappled light. A little out of breath for the last stretch of a hike uphill, Oliver took a quick pause upon arrival to catch it, along with a cursory glance at what surrounded.
He was alone yet, having come earlier as for the cool morning air that yet sough to render exhales into visible clouds. It was quiet here, save for the gentle blip of the stream and awakening birds, but damn— Whyever did he manage to underestimate the distance from the monastery each time.
It’s the downhill on the way back. Last impressions and so forth.
In a conclusive sigh, he reanimated and took a sharp turn to the back of the house where some rectangular tubs lay from the day before. The linen had been left soaking in a mix of birch ash and cold water, so today would see the task finished with soap and plenty of rinsing. They’d been a team of three yesterday, consisting of himself, Kaarle and an unsuspecting squire they’d spotted idling about in the yard. He had, however, been informed since that they woudn’t be able to join him for the rest of it — as of something Kaarle had called ‘time constraints’.
Like it wasn’t obvious the man had merely been talked over into instructing the squire on their magical pursuits. Kaarle hadn’t ever been too confident in his ability to teach, so this was rather unexpected, surprising even, if pleasantly so. Figures — Any man was bound to crack under so much direct and genuine enthusiasm he’d witnessed within the course of the previous day.
No harm no foul, naturally. His now absentee company had promised to arrange someone to replace them, in exactly as many words. While he wasn’t against doing things in his lonesome, the consideration was appreciated, not least for he’d been planning to hang all sheets to dry at once. And in as little trips back and forth up this gods-forsaken hill as possible.
Giving a sharp huff, he grabbed onto one of the wooden tubs and pushed it along the rough-hewn floor towards the middle, where a stream flowed within its man-made depression.
The sun was only rising, the old wooden beams holding up the roof much akin to the surrounding trees with their vibrant gradient of dappled light. A little out of breath for the last stretch of a hike uphill, Oliver took a quick pause upon arrival to catch it, along with a cursory glance at what surrounded.
He was alone yet, having come earlier as for the cool morning air that yet sough to render exhales into visible clouds. It was quiet here, save for the gentle blip of the stream and awakening birds, but damn— Whyever did he manage to underestimate the distance from the monastery each time.
It’s the downhill on the way back. Last impressions and so forth.
In a conclusive sigh, he reanimated and took a sharp turn to the back of the house where some rectangular tubs lay from the day before. The linen had been left soaking in a mix of birch ash and cold water, so today would see the task finished with soap and plenty of rinsing. They’d been a team of three yesterday, consisting of himself, Kaarle and an unsuspecting squire they’d spotted idling about in the yard. He had, however, been informed since that they woudn’t be able to join him for the rest of it — as of something Kaarle had called ‘time constraints’.
Like it wasn’t obvious the man had merely been talked over into instructing the squire on their magical pursuits. Kaarle hadn’t ever been too confident in his ability to teach, so this was rather unexpected, surprising even, if pleasantly so. Figures — Any man was bound to crack under so much direct and genuine enthusiasm he’d witnessed within the course of the previous day.
No harm no foul, naturally. His now absentee company had promised to arrange someone to replace them, in exactly as many words. While he wasn’t against doing things in his lonesome, the consideration was appreciated, not least for he’d been planning to hang all sheets to dry at once. And in as little trips back and forth up this gods-forsaken hill as possible.
Giving a sharp huff, he grabbed onto one of the wooden tubs and pushed it along the rough-hewn floor towards the middle, where a stream flowed within its man-made depression.
