Sacra di San Michele, Italy. The abbey was founded around 983-987, its heyday was in the c. 11th-12th. It blends into the steep environment creating a unique and wonderful whole. Umberto Eco placed his novel The Name of the Rose there.
itās not something he knew he liked, honestly, he hadnāt even thought about it as a possible gesture of affection
hell, he hadnāt given much thought to any kind of affection at all until he met you went and decided to likeĀ him so damn much (he still thinks youāre a little crazy for it, but he knows better than to question it at this point)
especially since youāve opened him up to the idea of physical touch as more than a resigned necessity at best, and a reminder of all the bad things in his at absolute worst
it was a slow process, he needed time, but you were more than happy to wait and respect boundaries and just be thereĀ until his comfort and trust were strong enoughĀ
when it first happened, he was used to lying in bed with you (you called it ācuddles,ā but he couldnāt quite get that word out of his mouth without flashing on Merleās taunting face), you were holding him more than he was you, his head resting on your chest and arms around your waist while you hooked one arm under his arm, holding across his back, with your other hand at the back of his head
absentmindedly, half-asleep, and a little love-drunk, your fingers threaded through his dark, slightly tangled hair, and began toā¦scratch? No, it was somewhere between rubbing and scratching and brushing and Daryl didnāt know the right word for it but that didnāt matter so much because it sent the a light, pleasant tingling sensation down his spine
he unconsciously exhaled, settling more heavily on top of you, earning a breathy laugh and an amusedĀ āyou like that?ā to which he could only respond with an affirmative grunt as you continued your ministrations and he relaxed so much that he drifted (and actually stayed asleep for more than three hours)
his reaction was not lost on you, and the act of playing with his hair became somewhat of a routineā whenever he returned from a long hunt, when heād been stretching himself too thin, when you simply missed each other and came upon a few free minutes
you would lay together or heād set his head in your lap or sit on the floor in front of you and you would gently card your fingers through his hair and over his scalp, instantly relaxing him and reminding him that with you, at least for a little while, he can let go of the burdens and responsibilities and simply be
ALT
