[center] [img] https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/be/c6/b2/bec6b294774bb3118799cf5e25e616cd--digital-paintings-digital-art.jpg[/img] [h1][color=D4F0FF] Bodil Bera [/color][/h1] [hider=Swirling Mist and Stalking Shadows] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBejsvTIkws[/youtube][/hider] [/center] [hr][hr] [center] Bodil felt as though she had shed three pounds of grime and muck with just that one bath. There was nothing more heavenly than warm water and soap. Well, perhaps maybe a nice plush warm bed, but she wouldn't get her hopes up. Didn't that horrible beastman say he'd terrorize her dreams? Not that she dreamt much anymore. But she'd take depthless, deep dreamless sleep over the string of nightmares she grew up with. Looking at her soak clothes, she wondered if these Fae things even slept. The kingdom she had seen was nightmarish, dark, cold, apathetic, and cruel. It stooped itself in decay and buckled under greedy frivolous creatures who were too confused to know what they valued and what they didn't. The humans they chose to capture were either utter failures, like herself, or they were half out of their wits already. Her dark bobbed hair sent little droplets of water onto the floor as she thought over the events of the last month. Survival at its most basic. Running like a deer from the hunter, always sleeping in short spurts, always trying to stay three steps ahead... And then to be corralled back to the mass herd of sheep-brain humans. Her fingers clenched at the drenched soil material of her over-worn clothes from the mortal realm. Why did it always have to be like this? If she wasn't trying to escape one cage, she was getting caught in another. Bodil pressed her cheek to her naked shoulder as if comforting herself in that smallest of gestures. Always running, never safe... Why couldn't she just be left alone? Mist like dancing dreams waltzed around the ancient bathing chamber. The soft humidity was disturbed by the return of some sort of cold air. Bodil shivered and looked up with a silent glare. Her small and overly lean body curled in on itself, crouched over her soaking pile of clothes. She felt like an animal shorn of its protective fur, antlers, and claws under the mocking gaze of the hideously perfect king. His cold gaze etched over what must be a savage scene. The civilized creature analyzing the lesser being before it, faintly amused and disgusted at the vulnerable and mortified thing. How barbaric she must be to these Fae, with so little antique etiquette or demure disposition or some such other entirely useless and frivolous quality that they might hold in high reguard. If anything was held in high esteem in this realm anyway. Stilled under the eyes of the ruler of nightmares and monstrosities, Bodil glared clutching her wet clothes to her body. Her face was red, in cherry coated mortification, but she refused to let him see her so affected. Not again. His lack of modesty had taken her by surprise before, but now she leveled him with an open glower. He'd not find her stammering like a blushing school girl again. With a flick of his long fingers, a stream of fabric floated towards her. Shallow grey, a ghostly color on her pale milk skin and deep dark hair coloring, dropped on her. She half expected there to be some sort of horrible beast hidden in the clothes, but it was just cloth. Terribly fine cloth, now that she examined it, searching for poisoned tendrils or even pricking thorns. Suspicious. Why would such finely hemmed clothing be given to her? She wasn't just a slave, for 'servant' was certainly no how she saw the other humans that existed in this place, but an unruly, rebellious and troublesome pest. Bodil narrowed her eyes, but her need for modesty won out over petty spite once more. How she wanted to throw these fine things in this looming ethereal creature's face, he looked so smug. He even had the nerve to comment on her physical appearance while she was at her most vulnerable! Bodil's face flushed with another wave of humiliation. But she needed clothes just as much as she needed to hide away from the king of terrors, so she turned her back to him and quickly dressed. The hems embroidered with black and silver dragons in flight, such work was the height of a craftsman's life, so detailed and painstaking... And a mere slave wearing it? Bodil fit the delicate silver belt around her tiny waist, so agile the work of the belt she was able to wrap it twice around her form. The small pieces of cloth, like ancient underthings for a woman, she fit on under the tunic, not daring to turn around least she see the fowl king laughing at her. The black leggings, like leather at first sight and yet as flexible and breathing as a stretchy cotton, were last. All in all, it was excellent grade clothing, though why he was wasting it on her she seriously did not know. 'Not much to look at'... Bodil felt as though he had prodded an old wound with those long fingers of his. "I already know that," she whispered the grumbling words to herself. Shaking her wet head, her short hair already losing the moisture of her bath, she ran her fingers through it, combing it into submission. An easy thing with short and listless hair. Grabbing her damp purse, she wondered if she should grab her mortal world clothes too. No, perhaps not. They were ratty and half rotting from all the abuse a month of wearing them had taken. Not to mention she had run through and slept in the forest like an animal in them. At least she could be flexible about her clothing, adaptable to that at the very least. "And if you tried to eat me, you'd choke anyway," she stood, still grumbling under her breath, slinging her purse pack onto her back. Bodil stood tall, though her height didn't make her very imposing, and walked to the door the 'Falcon King' had gone through. Hesitating, she looked back at the warm womb-like bathing room. "At least they have one good thing in this awful world," she huffed. Then turned to the threshold and walked through without any regrets. "What do you plan on doing, if you aren't going to eat me, anyway?" she called to the shadows, still brazen if a bit less bristly than their last 'conversation', "Make an example out of me, like the Fox enjoys doing everytime someone so much as sneezes in his direction?" Silence for a moment. "Hey! Are you still there?" [/center]