The morning dawned bright, clear, and cold over the city, the sun filtering in through the high, arched windows of the guest suite.

Miry awoke to birdsong, blinking in the rosy light. She was warm, almost uncomfortably so, rolled in a thick bedspread and encased securely in Lord Zakroti’s embrace. The sleeping lord was tangled around her still, arms twined around her back and neck and lips near her temple. She shifted in place, realizing that her legs still tangled through the lord’s. Images of the previous night flitted sleepily through her mind and she blushed deeply, a twinge between her hips a further reminder of what had transpired. She ducked her head in shame, though she couldn’t say she’d regretted the night… after a moment of enjoying the embrace, she gently leaned up to kiss her lord, beginning to extricate herself from the blankets, ideally without waking Zakroti or making much undue noise. It would be unseemly if she took too long to make herself ready, she knew…

Fetching a comb from her bags, she set about organizing her unruly hair, which had hopelessly tangled in the night’s activities. She ended up retrieving some water from the pitcher on the nightstand, just a few drops, which she worked through the length of her hair to tame the worst of the frizz as she detangled it, smoothing it out into its usual glossy sheet that could then be braided. Though yesterday she had worn it in a simple plait extending down her shoulders, she elected to pin it today, circling her braid tightly around the back of her head twice and sticking it into place with a myriad of straight pins pressed tight against her scalp to be barely-showing. It was more befitting now, she supposed, to not leave her dusty, dark lavender hair flowing free in any way. After a length of thought, she did still decide to forgo the veil that her mother had insisted upon packing. It had been included as a tongue-in-cheek commentary, though one meant well, about her eventual becoming of a proper woman, but the sudden change in appearance would cause more questions than she cared to answer. Not to mention, veils were [i]incredibly[/i] hot and itchy, and she was sure to be on the road for a while and get all manner of dust trapped beneath it…

She refolded the veil, rolling it within its circlet band so as not to risk damaging the fabric, and set about dressing for the day. Though ordinarily she wouldn’t dare have two part-dirty sets of clothing, travelling in respectable clothes had been a dreadful mistake. The dress she picked for today was thus the simplest one she had brought, a dusty blue under dress held up by the barest of straps, and a dark charcoal layer over the top, modestly embroidered in silver around the rather low collar and tightly lacing narrow sleeves. The skirts were less voluminous and shorter than most of her other gowns, settling at the narrowest part of her ankle rather than trailing the floor – she put on thin silk stockings and her usual soft leather booties, which barely peeked out beneath the hem. 

After glancing around to ensure she had gathered all her belongings, and that the lord was not yet awake, she retrieved her embroidering hoop and purse from the side of her saddlebags, settling primly into the seat beside the bed with a posture too precise to be natural. Her fingers deftly retrieved and threaded the needle in one of several colors she worked with, passing the needle through the hoop and back again in a variety of complex and intricate knots with an almost mechanical precision. It was clear her mind was elsewhere, though to a casual look she may seem engrossed in the careful work of threads. 
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Nenra grumbled awake, from her bed in the guest dormitory, to the sound of a cheery conversation among the men-at-arms, who busily worked to assemble a breakfast out of their rations and gather up the belongings they had brought into the space the previous night, readying saddlebags and donning their armor for the journey. Though now sober and considerably more conscious of herself, she chose to think of readying for the day as though she were in the bunkroom she shared with her siblings. It was a simple matter to pull her underthings and trousers on under her shift, then take the dress off and replace it with her shirt. Feeling quite pleased with the lack of compromise of her modesty, she returned her attention to the group, half-listening to their conversation as she rolled stockings onto her feet and laced her boots, trouser legs tucked into the tops as she often did for work or hard riding at home.

She was feeling considerably more herself today, the sleep on a respectable bed having done more good for her than she cared to admit. As she listened to the men at arms speak, her hands itched to be in control of a horse again. From the way the party spoke, it seemed they were glad to be returning too, though whether they were speaking of returning to their familiar mounts or to their homeland, or both, she could not quite be certain. 

The one called Gaikus gave her a soft smile and passed her a metal mug of a steaming beverage. [i]Tea, right, that’s what the lord said.[/i] The tea had a spicy, herbal smell, similar enough – if distinct – from a kind of tea they often made at home. She took the mug appreciatively, and the piece of bread she had been handed, munching down the food with little regard for table manners or decorum. 

The variety of weaponry around made her long for her staff again – simple, smoothed lengths of wood, such as handles of long-ago-stripped farm implements, made remarkably effective weapons against would-be bandits or intrudors. In her village, children and teens often practiced with them, in addition to their more standard play weapons like clay or wooden swords and far more functional ones like simple slings, which were often carried by shepherds and the like.  She knew that asking for such items was far, far beyond anything the lord or his men would be willing to do, and understandably so! But someday she would very much like to have a chance to practice, or maybe even a round of sparring or two. Her eyes flitted over the men who gathered in the courtyard, sizing them up as potential opponents. Someday, yes…