Whumptober 2025 Day 3: Candlelight
Oct. 3rd, 2025 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosanicusNo 3: "I look in people's windows, transfixed by rose golden glows."
Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family
NOT EVEN WHUMP, SORRY LADS.
The power was out. This was hardly a surprise with the storm, really. It had curtailed their jaunt across the heather, and now it was an inconvenience to grope about the darkened kitchen, stubbing toes on the range and almost tripping over multiple chairs.
Gimlet, of course, could navigate the place with his eyes closed. Bertie could imagine him practicing doing just that in the dead of night, just to keep a hand in.
"And it's a jolly good thing you've kept the fireplace," he commented. He had crouched by it to inspect the fire that had been laid but not lit, firestarter cubes nestled in amongst the kindling. The matchbook he used had been sodden in the storm, so he struck three of the driest matches against the flagstone floor and watched until the flames caught.
He pushed himself to his feet with a creaky sigh, then turned to Gimlet with an ironic smile. "Not quite candlelight, but I reckon we could tell a few spine-tinglers and be in the spirit of the season, what?"
"I didn't think you cared much for scary stories," said Gimlet. "I seem to remember a winter night at school you spent sat up in the senior common room, jumping at shadows."
"Oh, I call that cheek," replied Bertie, appalled at this attack upon his honour. "You only spotted me because you'd come down to check there weren't any axe-murderers hiding behind the curtains."
"Anyway," Gimlet said, neatly but unsubtly avoiding this scintillating riposte, "We both need dry clothes on before we consider a night of any sort." He indicated the circle of damp where they were both dripping onto the floor. "And then we can toast muffins on the fire. Much more civilised."
"You just like muffins," accused Bertie. Admittedly, so did he.
Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family
NOT EVEN WHUMP, SORRY LADS.
The power was out. This was hardly a surprise with the storm, really. It had curtailed their jaunt across the heather, and now it was an inconvenience to grope about the darkened kitchen, stubbing toes on the range and almost tripping over multiple chairs.
Gimlet, of course, could navigate the place with his eyes closed. Bertie could imagine him practicing doing just that in the dead of night, just to keep a hand in.
"And it's a jolly good thing you've kept the fireplace," he commented. He had crouched by it to inspect the fire that had been laid but not lit, firestarter cubes nestled in amongst the kindling. The matchbook he used had been sodden in the storm, so he struck three of the driest matches against the flagstone floor and watched until the flames caught.
He pushed himself to his feet with a creaky sigh, then turned to Gimlet with an ironic smile. "Not quite candlelight, but I reckon we could tell a few spine-tinglers and be in the spirit of the season, what?"
"I didn't think you cared much for scary stories," said Gimlet. "I seem to remember a winter night at school you spent sat up in the senior common room, jumping at shadows."
"Oh, I call that cheek," replied Bertie, appalled at this attack upon his honour. "You only spotted me because you'd come down to check there weren't any axe-murderers hiding behind the curtains."
"Anyway," Gimlet said, neatly but unsubtly avoiding this scintillating riposte, "We both need dry clothes on before we consider a night of any sort." He indicated the circle of damp where they were both dripping onto the floor. "And then we can toast muffins on the fire. Much more civilised."
"You just like muffins," accused Bertie. Admittedly, so did he.
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Date: 2025-10-03 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-04 07:53 am (UTC)