Falling Skies

Thirty Five

The metal plate is too cold, the large platter held tight in December's grip as he stands at the entrance of another ornate door. Like most doors in the palace it's littered in multicolored jewels, rubies and emeralds reflecting the light from a far off window down the hall. The morning air rushes through the slightly cracked window, breeze dancing through the long stone corridor, swaying December's hair as it passes by. It carries with it an odd warmth, summer looming over them with each passing day, the scent of blooming flowers and crisp air barreling through the breeze.

His gaze traces the blocks of sunlight scattered across the stone floors as he attempts to gather even an ounce of courage. Celeste had ordered him to deliver the mystery plate to this corridor with no explanation, just shoving the silver platter into his arms and instructing him to not remove the domed lid that shielded its contents from view.

December doesn't bother to knock, rather turning to push open the wooden door with his back, the silver platter too large to allow him a free hand. With a creak the door gives way to a room drenched in wet air, the atmosphere heavy and bogged down with thick humidity. It's hard to breath, the congealed air struggling to make its way into his lungs as he shuts the door behind him, the atmosphere only condensing with the absence of the corridor's breeze.

"When the guards said a human was coming I was expecting it to be Ryder."

That too-soft voice has December spinning, arms nearly dropping the silver platter as he hastily drops his gaze to the water soaked floor. He can't help the embarrassed flush that rushes across his cheeks, head still downcast as he makes his way across the aureate bath house.

The entire room is carved from marble, his reflection staring back at him through the cream colored floor adorned with veins of gold and white. Matching pillars trace the perimeter of the room as they stretch into the domed ceiling, disappearing into sketches of white flowers and golden clouds. It's breathtaking, the room filled with the sound of trickling water escaping from the mouths of oversized sculptures.

Each one is sculpted with precision, the scales of each fish bulging from its marbled base. Sunlight reflects off their scales, light glimmering against each gold detail from the ceiling length windows placed throughout the room. If it weren't for the steam clouding the room, the sun cast in the reflection of the marble and gold would be blinding.

December can barely pull himself out of his awestruck stupor, gaze finally falling upon the large pool of water and the small fae that floats within it. Even while bathing he's cloaked in sheer robes, the wet material sticking to his bare flesh leaving nothing to the imagination. The fae doesn't seem to notice however, small hand brushing away at dripping curls before addressing December once more.

"You might as well stay since you're already here. Besides, everyone already knows I broke the Purity Law so it doesn't really apply to me anymore. There's a robe in the wardrobe you can wear." His tone hints to more of an order than a suggestion, waif finger pointing towards the golden armoire at the end of the room.

Silently, December places the silver platter at the edge of the colossal pool, arms grateful for the release of the heavy object. He doesn't object to Wren's requests, rather making his way towards the golden armoire at the far end of the room. The bathing robes are softer than they appear, though they stick to his sweat drenched skin sticky from the humidity of the room.

The water's surface glimmers with the light of the windows as December sinks within its depths, body rested against a marble step concealed around the perimeter of the pool. It's deeper than it looks, water threatening to crash  against the bottom of his chin if he doesn't stay pressed against the rim of the pool. Although the fae stands a few feet shorter he doesn't seem to be bothered by the threat, rather wading in the water across from December with the slightest of smiles pulling at his lips.