Turbinio

Pot Marigold Essence

You looked into the steam of the hot tea and tried to distinguish the aroma. Something like chamomile and raspberry. Or ginger and raspberry. You looked again at Johnny, who was now watching Gyro talking to the manager behind the counter. He was pale with cold and you couldn't notice anything but the warmth of his face.

There was a sudden stirring and, at a glance, you saw the tall figure of Gyro sitting next to Johnny.

''The question of the food and the inn has been settled.'' Said the Italian with a humorous tone. "All we have to do is wait.''

You weren't hungry anymore, and you didn't want tea, and you especially didn't want to get up. But Johnny was already taking the teapot, and you couldn't find the words to dissuade him. Suddenly, it seemed as if you had run out of words.

Gyro somehow guessed your feelings. He leaned forward and took the teapot from Johnny, muttering something in a voice too low for you to hear. Johnny looked at you with a worried frown, examining your state. You were covered in blood, dirt and bruises from head to toe.

''This inn has hot water, don't you want to take a bath before the food arrives, (Y/N)?'' He asked in a discreet tone.

''Oh, I think so.'' You said, your shoulders drooping with relief and gratitude.

You tried to get up, but your legs were wobbly and you nearly collapsed when you leaned on the table. With what little dignity you could find, you climbed the steep stairs of the inn and made your way to the restroom without looking back. In front of the door, you saw a little man who looked very much like the race workers hurrying down the stairs. You thought it strange, since the racers were not concentrated in that part of town, but the sudden steam that surrounded you when you opened the door made you forget about it, blurring your vision and reducing the irritation in your nose.

You let out a sigh of relief, suddenly things didn't have to make sense anymore. Along with that sigh of relief, a whimpering moan escaped. Despite the tone, it was not a whine. It was like the cry of a bird of prey, iridescent and intractable. A silent cry of relief at being alive and being able to feel warm again.

Slowly, with a shy smile of complacency on your face, you took off each piece of clothing one by one until every inch of your skin was warmed by the steam and the lavender scent. You feel the water in the tub, it was hot enough to cook a lobster and not exactly the voluptuous escape that a candlelit bubble bath could be, but "escape" was the important word at that moment. A little solitude could do wonders, as you knew from experience. And if cleanliness didn't take one to paradise, having clean feet, hands and face definitely improved one's perspective on the universe, especially after a day of blood, sweat, gunpowder and strangulations.

The question was: did you really need more escapes? You stuck your hand in the steaming bath water and swirled it from side to side, watching the dancing shapes projected into the background. Did you need to look for more escapes after all this?

Yes, warm baths like this were good, but not for escaping everything. The water had cooled down enough to be tolerable. You stepped into the tub, letting yourself sink and relax. Hot water was nothing more than an insignificant distraction.

You dove back in, wetting your hair and bending your knees as you slowly emerged. A long time went by like this, dipping in and out of the water, muffling the sounds of the place as you stayed under as long as you could.

But your attention was diverted from these mechanical movements by a growing sound behind you. Someone knocking on the door.

"Hey, (Y/N)." You heard Gyro's voice hiss from behind the door.

It took you a moment to answer, but then you sighed.

''What?''

''Are you okay? Do you need anything?''