Over the last 10 months, trekking through an endless array of terrains and climates, water had insinuated its way into Devon Adair’s daily life to the point where she could hardly remember what an unnecessary luxury it had been on the Stations. Here on G889, water was always a concern, whether it was a shortage of drinkable supplies or a cantankerous mining vehicle firmly stuck in eight inches of mud.
Water, and their fundamental dependence on having a constant source of it, did strange things to people here on G889. Devon mused at how its existence could made them feel so safe and secure, so protected that a perfectly…well, a usually restrained man like John Danziger could be possessed to start a water fight. At the same time, a lack thereof was so frightening that even the most perpetually opportunistic, and whiny, member of Eden Advance was stirred to give his half-rations to his wife.
They still had a incredibly long way to go. Water could still very well be the death of them all.
But today was one of those rare occurrences where there was more enough water, enough for every member of Eden advance to drink and bathe their fill. And it was only a few meters away from Devon’s pleasantly warm tent, a natural brook, waiting to wash everything clean. She’d finally even get a chance to wash her hair.
She assumed that both Danziger and herself would take turns keeping an eye on the kids while the other waded out of view to wash, but she couldn’t help hoping that one of the other adults would present the kids with an activity and allow her not only some privacy, but the eyeful that would be a dripping wet, clean shaven mechanic.
Watching the crew’s reaction to the water had always fascinated Devon. She knew it was likely they’d never used water to bathe before in their lives, and real water- the kind that fell from the sky and rushed through the earth in bubbling currents- was unfamiliar and humbling to everyone in the group.
In the rare incidences when they’d encountered a safe body of water, it had become somewhat of a ritual between the women of Eden Advance to stroll by at least once, just for the guilty pleasure of watching John splashing around like a golden retriever. Sure, Walman and the other guys were nothing to squawk at, but when Alonzo bathed he preened and posed until even Julia was rolling her eyes.
Danziger, on the other hand, always bathed in private, and very rarely swam or played with the children away from the shore. Devon knew the unstoppable power of a river or a waterfall, something so utterly dangerous and out of his control, didn’t sit well with him.
That and he probably didn’t know how to swim.
Nevertheless, when it was time for his bath there was nothing quite like the sight of him. He had a curious way of always looking timid and weary of his surroundings, while simultaneously at ease in his body.
That and he had a chest like the hull of an armored hovercraft and the shoulders of Atlas to boot. She highly doubted any of the Eden Advance ladies would be entertaining the kids.
Story Notes:
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