In one moment Soot was on her stool, brush in hand absentmindedly painting. A young maid had been brought in. Soot had only just finished hoisting her up and securing the lines when she had stepped just outside the door to grab some spare line, now, she was watching her studio get further and further away as her heels dragged along the palace floors. She offered the distressed looking maid a noncommittal shrug and sighed. Her arms slack in Rosethal's grip as her damp brush trailed along the ground. 
 
Soot closed her eyes trying to relax. Staying in Ruz’s good books required appeasing Rose and couldn’t really fight against Rosethal even if she wanted to. So it was better to not anger the Vizier’s... rambunctious spawn and just go along with it. Plus, she doubted Rosethal actually knew Soot was, well, Soot: The palace painter, and not just some random servant. 

She would just wait until Rosethal dropped her for some other more interesting thing and then scamper off back to her studio. Most likely, the brute's level of object permanence would let the Painter get away without too much trouble. The next time they crossed paths Soot would once again be a complete stranger.

[hr]

She let her mind wander, everything was a blur since last night. Bowlyn ended up back at Soot’s house, they had only gotten partially home when Soot had calmed down, and it seemed Bowlyn was content with the usual plan: riding the adrenaline high all the way under Soot’s Covers. Although there was a slightly different undertone, a slight tint of both being too afraid to leave the other alone.

 It wasn’t until they were dealing with Soot’s destroyed tunic that Bowlyn noticed her thighs. The jars from Soot’s bag had cracked and splintered. Paired with a lot of falls and tumbling had left stinging wounds that stole the Thief-Queen's attention. Their plans fell away into tender care, Bowlyn carefully bandaging as Soot complained until they eventually submitted to sleep.

Bowlyn stayed that morning, later than usual, and for none of the normal reasons. 

[hr]

The Painter's eyes snapped open, the dull ache in her thigh pulling her back to reality. This was taking too long, where were they going. She looked up at her ‘captor’, her pupils narrow and cold. “Excuse me” She said with a light clearing of the throat. “Might I ask, dear Lady, where we are heading…”