( It's several days into the month when the temperature rises, causing Javert to set out on his patrol without his coat. He's donned in nothing but his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, and it's the most undressed anyone, other than his housemates, have seen him. Even so, though, it is not enough to keep him cool, and when he stalks through all the known areas of Beacon, he does so with an obvious sheen on his forehead, the sweat crawling down his neck and back.
It's far worse when he's at combat training, and sparring against someone at the armory. He has a blunt sword in his hand, holding tight, but even his grip slips at times, and he cannot hide how much the heat is sapping his already low energy. )
Perhaps we should finish early.
( He says, wiping the sweat from his brow. It's not yet nine and there's still a few first aid lessons left for him to teach, but that may have to wait. )
sweet dreams
( And then, near the middle of the month, when Javert feels as if he can fight his insomnia no longer, he falls asleep. There are no nightmares to torment him, no faces of his friends turning black with decay. He falls asleep on one of the chairs in the library, his head on the desk, notebook open before him and pen in hand. It seems as if he was in the middle of writing a report, though it is all written in French, and in his neatest penmanship. He mouth hangs open a little and he snores softly.
Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad thing to wake him, for his back will protest his posture whenever he wakes, and he will be all the more cross for it. )
javert | ota
( It's several days into the month when the temperature rises, causing Javert to set out on his patrol without his coat. He's donned in nothing but his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, and it's the most undressed anyone, other than his housemates, have seen him. Even so, though, it is not enough to keep him cool, and when he stalks through all the known areas of Beacon, he does so with an obvious sheen on his forehead, the sweat crawling down his neck and back.
It's far worse when he's at combat training, and sparring against someone at the armory. He has a blunt sword in his hand, holding tight, but even his grip slips at times, and he cannot hide how much the heat is sapping his already low energy. )
Perhaps we should finish early.
( He says, wiping the sweat from his brow. It's not yet nine and there's still a few first aid lessons left for him to teach, but that may have to wait. )
sweet dreams
( And then, near the middle of the month, when Javert feels as if he can fight his insomnia no longer, he falls asleep. There are no nightmares to torment him, no faces of his friends turning black with decay. He falls asleep on one of the chairs in the library, his head on the desk, notebook open before him and pen in hand. It seems as if he was in the middle of writing a report, though it is all written in French, and in his neatest penmanship. He mouth hangs open a little and he snores softly.
Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad thing to wake him, for his back will protest his posture whenever he wakes, and he will be all the more cross for it. )