Interlude: The Dead Man's Bath
Warm water swirled around her body as she settled back into the wooden tub. The room was separate from the main, thank the gods, and the dull thunder of voices speaking back and forth was heard from the other room. She did not truly care what they spoke of. It was none of her business. What was her business was the business of easing some of her soreness in her muscles and across her chest. Letting the bruises that started to bloom across her lower back and side get some rest, so that she could walk and breathe at the same time. The bar of soap in her left hand, that was for cleaning the cuts and abraisions that were here and there on her hands, her face, her neck as well as her legs. It seemed that she did not quite get through the last day's events completely unscathed.
It just reminded her to say no thank you the next someone mentioned a tour of a museum. Any museum.
She flinched as her body rested against the sloped edge of the tub. Leaning her neck back upon the rim to support herself, the hand that clenched the small cake of soap reached up to brush the black hair off from where it was sticking to her warm and damp neck. The long tail was so unraveled that she itched to reach up and unbraid the locks. The temptation to dunk her body into the tub, and rinse her hair out completely was very large. However, she knew better.
It was one thing to make sure you took a bath before presenting yourself to the Lord. It was quite another to be perfectly clean after a horid event, especially when you are relating bad news, and not have to take that bath there. It looked tacky, like the bad news was not in the Lord's best interest to know immeditately. Or... that you made it up completely.
The emerald eyes were closed beneath the dark lashes that framed them in. Her body sinking further into the water as she continued to hear the murmer of voices, but not truly listening to what they spoke of, or what they were doing. No, her mind drifted to pay attention to other things that surrounded her. The creak of the boards that made the floor were more important to her than the voices. The way the air stirred when someone opened the door. She was not unaware of her surroundings, quite the contrary. She just was paying attention to more things than a murmer.
Quote: Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!
-Oscar Wilde
"Ralle...... Ralle.... Wake up! Ralle!"
She struggled to open her eyes, the green orbs dull, flat, tired. They burned with the lack of sleep she had been forced beneath. The lovely white of the eyes, she just knew they were rimmed with crimson lines, showing just how exhausted she was.
Wait.
Her hand moved up to rub at her eyes, to try to listen to the commands. They would not move. Sleep overrode her thoughts, and her eyes looked down to see the black manicles upon her hands. Attached the metal edges, a chain of medium sized links, which rose towards the ceiling. Her eyes followed the line that attached to her left hand. In her sleep, she knew her left hand was more important to her, but she could not remember why. The chain rose upwards into the ceiling, attaching itself to a soot covered metal ring and then looped through it. Onwards past the ring, the chain travelled, down once more to a hand.
Her emerald eyes looked up at the body holding the chain, trying to focus.
"Kallah? What.. what are you doing?"
Kallah shrugged and stared at her subject. Unlike Ralle, Kallah was still wearing all of her clothing. A dark pair of breeches, and a dark crimson tunic with a tight black long sleeved shirt beneath. Kallah's long dark blonde hair was twisted into a series of knots and braids, all bound in a tight row down her back. The chain in her hands, were not just in her hands, but rested in the black gauntlets she wore to protect her hands from the bite of the chain.
The dark blonde woman looked upon the dark haired one, and hen said, "I am here to teach you the next lesson, Ralle. They believe that you are ready to move on to something else."
"What? Where are Colin and Tybile?"
Kallah sighed softly, and moved enough to sit down in the stool across from Ralle. "They were not chosen for this way of life. They do not have the steel and patience that is required of them. Colin is too weak willed, and Tybile, well, she is rather sick currently."
"Oh. What are you here to teach me then?"
"Lesson number one... " Kallah stood to her feet, and with a fluid motion, yanked down hard upon the chain. Ralle's eyes flew open, as she felt her hips snap and pop against the metal bar that held her into the chair she was in. Her lips parted in surprise, wide away now. Kallah did not let up on the chain, and leaned more of her weight down upon it to cause the chains to bite up higher. Ralle let out a loud scream, unable to help herself!
Quote: Mitch Leary: Do you know how easily I could kill you, Frank? Do you know how many times I watched you go in and out of that apartment? You are still alive because I have allowed you to live so you show me some GOD DAMN RESPECT! --From in the Line of Fire
It just reminded her to say no thank you the next someone mentioned a tour of a museum. Any museum.
She flinched as her body rested against the sloped edge of the tub. Leaning her neck back upon the rim to support herself, the hand that clenched the small cake of soap reached up to brush the black hair off from where it was sticking to her warm and damp neck. The long tail was so unraveled that she itched to reach up and unbraid the locks. The temptation to dunk her body into the tub, and rinse her hair out completely was very large. However, she knew better.
It was one thing to make sure you took a bath before presenting yourself to the Lord. It was quite another to be perfectly clean after a horid event, especially when you are relating bad news, and not have to take that bath there. It looked tacky, like the bad news was not in the Lord's best interest to know immeditately. Or... that you made it up completely.
The emerald eyes were closed beneath the dark lashes that framed them in. Her body sinking further into the water as she continued to hear the murmer of voices, but not truly listening to what they spoke of, or what they were doing. No, her mind drifted to pay attention to other things that surrounded her. The creak of the boards that made the floor were more important to her than the voices. The way the air stirred when someone opened the door. She was not unaware of her surroundings, quite the contrary. She just was paying attention to more things than a murmer.
Quote: Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!
-Oscar Wilde
"Ralle...... Ralle.... Wake up! Ralle!"
She struggled to open her eyes, the green orbs dull, flat, tired. They burned with the lack of sleep she had been forced beneath. The lovely white of the eyes, she just knew they were rimmed with crimson lines, showing just how exhausted she was.
Wait.
Her hand moved up to rub at her eyes, to try to listen to the commands. They would not move. Sleep overrode her thoughts, and her eyes looked down to see the black manicles upon her hands. Attached the metal edges, a chain of medium sized links, which rose towards the ceiling. Her eyes followed the line that attached to her left hand. In her sleep, she knew her left hand was more important to her, but she could not remember why. The chain rose upwards into the ceiling, attaching itself to a soot covered metal ring and then looped through it. Onwards past the ring, the chain travelled, down once more to a hand.
Her emerald eyes looked up at the body holding the chain, trying to focus.
"Kallah? What.. what are you doing?"
Kallah shrugged and stared at her subject. Unlike Ralle, Kallah was still wearing all of her clothing. A dark pair of breeches, and a dark crimson tunic with a tight black long sleeved shirt beneath. Kallah's long dark blonde hair was twisted into a series of knots and braids, all bound in a tight row down her back. The chain in her hands, were not just in her hands, but rested in the black gauntlets she wore to protect her hands from the bite of the chain.
The dark blonde woman looked upon the dark haired one, and hen said, "I am here to teach you the next lesson, Ralle. They believe that you are ready to move on to something else."
"What? Where are Colin and Tybile?"
Kallah sighed softly, and moved enough to sit down in the stool across from Ralle. "They were not chosen for this way of life. They do not have the steel and patience that is required of them. Colin is too weak willed, and Tybile, well, she is rather sick currently."
"Oh. What are you here to teach me then?"
"Lesson number one... " Kallah stood to her feet, and with a fluid motion, yanked down hard upon the chain. Ralle's eyes flew open, as she felt her hips snap and pop against the metal bar that held her into the chair she was in. Her lips parted in surprise, wide away now. Kallah did not let up on the chain, and leaned more of her weight down upon it to cause the chains to bite up higher. Ralle let out a loud scream, unable to help herself!
Quote: Mitch Leary: Do you know how easily I could kill you, Frank? Do you know how many times I watched you go in and out of that apartment? You are still alive because I have allowed you to live so you show me some GOD DAMN RESPECT! --From in the Line of Fire