Sylvie sat cross-legged on a mat by the window, having sought the light for the work at hand. She was creating meticulous illustrations of plants she had found during her journeys. Since she had not known how long she would have to make her diary last, after a while she had taken to recording them only in shorthand or by grafting tiny samples to the pages.
With ink, water colours, quills and brushes set up in easy reach, she had been at work for hours, long enough to sink into the flow of it, forgetting everything else.
She did not even hear her husband when he entered.
“Hello, love.” He squatted to set down a tray with fruit, cups, and a beaker of watered wine next to her, and kissed her cheek, earning a warm smile. “Got time for anything else today?”
His grin made her stomach flutter rather delightfully, but with a sigh, Sylvie answered, “I’m afraid not. I should finish those soon.”
“You can’t continue at night.”
“Not with the colouring, but the outlines I can do.” She had a candle, and a spell to give herself cat’s eyes if that wasn’t enough.
Sammeh picked up an inkwell and examined it. “Are you sure your balance here, with work and the rest of your life, is right?”
Stretching and rolling her shoulders to loosen some tension, Sylvie considered that duly. “I want to give a good impression, after being missing so long. It won’t continue for ever.”
“Mhm.” He did not sound terribly convinced, or present, at that. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind was in several places at once.
Sylvie picked up a cup and drank. Since Sammeh didn’t continue the conversation, she turned back to her notes, missing how Sammeh picked up a slim brush.
He knelt behind of her, watching for a moment over her shoulder as she drew the fine hairs on a plant he did not recognise before he settled and watched the slight movements of her back and shoulders instead. Her pareo was tied to leave the upper half of her back free, which made for an inspirational sight.
The first touch of the brush of her skin made Sylvie twitch. Sammeh had wisely timed it so it did not come while she had the quill to the paper.
“What are you doing?”
“Painting.” Sammeh drew another curved line to complete the outline of a leaf. His grin turned vulpine what he heard Sylvie’s breath catch. She had a thing about light touches.
“This is distracting.” There was a hint of a chuckle underlying her words, which Sammeh took as encouragement.
“That’s the idea. Do you really want to spend half the night hunched over papers?”
“Well, a break might be in order...”
“That’s what I thought.” He painted a longer line to serve as basis for a vine down her back, avoiding the coiled lizard tattoo on her left shoulder blade.
Sylvie held up a hand for a pause, because she had to wipe her quill clean before the ink dried and clogged it, but afterwards sat back and let her shoulders relax, and her husband paint. The brush tickled a little. The ink was cool on her skin, and it felt like it pulled her skin together as it dried.
“What are you painting?” Her voice was quiet, mind clouded by focusing on sensation.
“More plants.” Sammeh almost matched her tone, not wanting to wake her up. “More roughly than yours, but I thought they would suit you.”
When he ran out of skin to paint on, he reached for the knotted cloth at the back of her neck. “And now—”
“It’s my turn.” Moving more quickly than he would have expected at this point, she faced him.
Sammeh blinked at her narrow eyed grin, and did not resist as she took brush and inkwell from his hands.
“Turn around? It’s only fair.”
“When you put it like that, I can hardly refuse.”
“Exaclty.”
Sammeh lay on the straw mat. He was not wearing a shirt.
It seemed to him like Sylvie waited a while before starting. “Can’t decide on a motive?”
“Something like that. It is a rather... unique canvas.”
“If you’d like suggestions...”
With an “Oh, shush,” she sat down on his backside and went to work.
After a short while, Sammeh had a suspicion. “Those are lines of writing, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
He bit his lip and waited, until she said, “there, finished.”
“So, what did you write on my back?” Sammeh asked as he got up. Sylvie went for a bowl set up by the window that now let in golden evening light.
“I’m not telling. Also, that was enough of a break.”
“Eh?”
“I need to continue working.”
“But—”
Smiling, she gave him a gentle push towards the door. “Thank you, and I’m sure you’ll have your revenge, but right now I need to clean that brush, and then continue work. People are waiting for this.” The kiss to his cheek did not do as much to mollify him as the tiny but definitely wistful sigh she gave right after. “Sorry, love.”
“All right, but I’d really like to know what it says. ’Property of Sylvie Dantuan’?” “I should have thought of that.” Grinning, she kept pushing him to, and through, the door. “Ask Gumei or someone else to read it to you, if you really want to know. Bye now.” The second Sammeh was speechless was enough time for Sylvie to close the curtain in his face.
“Could you read something for me?”
“Sure, if you have trouble with your letters, I can help you.”
“The trouble is that Sylvie wrote them on my back.”
Gumei gave him a flat look before a burst of laughter. “You two are something. All right, let me see.”
He turned around, and she nudged him to turn back a little for better light.
“Hm. Oh my. Sylvie wrote that?”
She was far too amused for Sammeh’s liking. “Yes. What does it say?”
“It tells me you had quite an effect on her.”
Irritating her? She hadn’t seemed irritated... “Gumei, please.”
“You really have no idea, do you. All right.” Gumei cleared her throat, and her voice fell in a musical cadence as she read out.
Kind heart and bright mind,
Quick wit and sharp eyes,
Strong limbs and deft hands.
My love, you bring
Joy to my heart
And peace to my mind
Sammeh was quiet for long moments. “Oh” was not nearly adequate, but it was the only thing he could think of, before he remembered his manners. “Thank you.”
Letting the words roll through his mind once again let them settle, and him relax. That came with an utterly stunned smile. He blinked rapidly when Gumei sought his eyes.
The woman chuckled. “You got each other good.”
“Yes. For good, too, I hope.”
After a good-natured slap to his shoulder, Gumei left him.