Lord Wyron
“S’zerki’eloi” Czigani cursed under her breath at the length of travel it had taken just to reach the tall, thick double doors to what would be her chambers for at least the evening. Although, aside from the pain of having to ascend so many steps, the girl had to admit that the interior was something to behold for sure. The decor she was accustomed to from her homeland was still quite ornate and beautiful to Fotian standards, albiet a bit darker and edgier for many, but the engineers and artisans who oversaw every meter of Vrondi castle certainly outdid themselves several times over. It had a serene kind of energy and flow etched into every piece, and the chosen colors were much more vibrant and uplifting than the darker hues and tones of the Fotian capital buildings. That being said, while this may not have been her first choice of accommodations, she was far from any complaint, and as she stepped through the entryway into her room, it was as though a heavy weight began to slowly lift from her aching shoulders, her body began to feel slightly less irritable and tense. In addition, whatever subtle yet effective incense was currently permeating throughout the room, was a most welcomed aroma, almost as though whomever placed it in the room knew exactly what the stranger would enjoy. Coincidence? Perhaps. But Czigani assumed a little magic had more to do with it as coincidences rarely ever surfaced in her experiences.
“Thank you.” She nodded to the servant as he exited the room, wishing she’d had something to offer him in the way of payment, but she also knew that -depending on the servants of each royal house- they were sometimes treated better than any close relative.
The young Tyro took a long, drawn out breath as she stepped toward the open window, feeling the cool breeze that was blowing in from the North. It had been a long time since she’d felt such a mild climate against her skin, considering most of Fotia was surrounded by hot, dry temperatures throughout the year, and the only reprieve were the climate controlled building interiors. She sighed, as her thoughts drifted toward home once more, wondering if she’d ever see her homeland again. Czi turned her attention toward the side table near the bed and cocked her head slightly as she noticed the wine bottle, and her eyes followed the trail of delicate rose petals toward the next room where water could be heard falling into a large basin.
“What in the hells am I doing here?” She shook her head and smirked as she slipped the ornate cloak off her body and tossed the garment onto the bed before heading toward the bathing chamber where she leaned against the entry frame and gazed at the enormous beautiful tub, taken aback momentarily by the stone dragon head jutting out from the far wall. Czigani chuckled at the irony, as most of her life her people have despised dragons for one reason or another to the point of hunting and killing them, and yet there she was, about to be vomited on by a dragon fountain. Her hand instinctively went to her side as even the slightest laughing hurt her bruised ribs. The girl looked over at the wall mirror next to her, which must have been ten feet high, and cringed when she’d gazed upon herself for the first time since the day she’d been arrested for the murder of the slave trader. She felt broken, but for the most part, she was fine save for the crude bandages covering several cuts along her bare torso and arms, her muted lavender-toned skin obscuring most of the bruising along her ribs. This was not the worst of it, however, as she stared into the reflection of face she scarcely remembered, a beautifully defined visage that was once free of blemish and now scarred along the right side from forehead to cheek, the once vibrant crimson color in that eye now void, replaced with a milky overlay. She could still see through her right eye, but not as she once could.
“You are hideous...” She hissed back to her reflection. “But perhaps you deserved such a fate for playing the fool.”
The girl gazed over the last remnants of clothing she’d owned: a pair of knee high leather boots, which had a tear along the side of one, and her black and gray patchwork leggings that were still in decent shape save for some fraying along her thigh, and last, the woven leather chest wrap, which was now missing one of the few straps it already had. All and all, however, her light armor could have looked worse.
A knock came to the door just as she was unfastening her chest piece, and the healer announced herself, followed by Czigani waving her in while continuing to remove her clothing. She could see the timid woman in the mirrors reflection, and even her voice seemed a bit uneasy in the Fotian’s presence.
“What ails me?” Czigani retorted while slipping her top off and letting it fall to the floor, exposing petite breasts. “Where should I start?” Her tone came off rather brash, and Czi only then realized that sleeplessness and pain were a bad combination when in a social encounter.
“My apologies...eh, Solari, right?” The Tyro put a boot up on the ledge of the bath and began unbuckling the straps, wincing a bit from her sore ribs. “It’s just been a very long few days and I swear I could sleep for about a month.” She smirked at the other, hoping to relieve some of the tension in the air.
She unlatched the last buckle, slipping the boot off a sore and blistered foot, and let it fall to the floor. “Although I doubt there's much you can do about the gash across my face. I know, lovely isn't it?” She sighed, tugging at her other boot straps. “It'll scar over alright, but never really go away due to the poi-...well, nevermind. In any case, I'll be out of these clothes in a moment and then you can do whatever it is you need to do...
