76th Day
Summer 517
Summer 517
Outside the single window of the Sullin's cottage, the morning dawned grey and clouded. Mist hovered above Lake Ravok, giving it a haunted look. The sight of it made Shiress shiver, as she moved away from the window.
Clad in a deep copper toned, cotton dress, belted loosely at the waist, the slave's bright colored clothes was stark contrast to the window's gloomy view. Her similarly colored, chestnut hair was pulled back from the sides, in thin braids, and clasped to the back of her head, the length flowing in waves down her back.
Shiress had risen early this day, completing her many chores, long before dawn peaked through the horizon. Sleep alluded the girl, of late, her thoughts constantly engaged and laden, with questions, given answers, why's, and what if's. The thoughts of home, of Zeltiva, her parents, her brother. Thoughts of him --of Karyk. The bearded drunk had unknowingly shaken the slave to her core, just by answering a few, simple questions. Shiress wondered if the man truly knew and appreciated the gift he had given her. She doubted it. How could he? He was just a simple man, from a simple, port city.
A smile slid across the girl's face at the thought of home, then grew broader, eyebrows inching upward, as the thought migrated back to Karyk, causing a little skip of a heartbeat, a slight hitch in breathing. Color raced to her cheeks, as the slave realized she was attracted to the bearded man from Zeltiva.
Slave
Shiress' thin shoulder's slumped, as she rested her hands in her lap. She ran the tip of her thumb along the hard and raised skin beneath her wrist. Glancing down, she turned her hand over, revealing the scar as a slaves brand. 'Shiress' it read. Her name, a simple thing, but it's meaning was so much more. Old it may be, but it still spoke truth.
"You're a slave, Shiress" she told the empty room. "Who would want a relationship with a slave." She was silent a tick, studying the scar, before mumbling, "Even if the feeling happen to be mutual he wouldn't want a slave. No one would.."
Lurching herself from the chair she had been sitting, Shiress made it three steps before angrily slamming her fist against her thighs. "God's be damned, I just want to go home!!" she said, the words spewing up like vomit. The slave didn't know where they had come from, she instantly regretted saying them. Or maybe it was just from moving too fast?
Pressure formed and spread throughout Shiress' head, at the same time a wave of nausea hit her gut. She swayed in place, willing her breakfast to stay put. It did, but frustration ignited her ire once again. Pivoting on a heel, she slung herself around and crossed the floor in a huff. Yanking open the door, she stomped over the threshold.
A brisk walk would cool her down.
Clad in a deep copper toned, cotton dress, belted loosely at the waist, the slave's bright colored clothes was stark contrast to the window's gloomy view. Her similarly colored, chestnut hair was pulled back from the sides, in thin braids, and clasped to the back of her head, the length flowing in waves down her back.
Shiress had risen early this day, completing her many chores, long before dawn peaked through the horizon. Sleep alluded the girl, of late, her thoughts constantly engaged and laden, with questions, given answers, why's, and what if's. The thoughts of home, of Zeltiva, her parents, her brother. Thoughts of him --of Karyk. The bearded drunk had unknowingly shaken the slave to her core, just by answering a few, simple questions. Shiress wondered if the man truly knew and appreciated the gift he had given her. She doubted it. How could he? He was just a simple man, from a simple, port city.
A smile slid across the girl's face at the thought of home, then grew broader, eyebrows inching upward, as the thought migrated back to Karyk, causing a little skip of a heartbeat, a slight hitch in breathing. Color raced to her cheeks, as the slave realized she was attracted to the bearded man from Zeltiva.
Slave
Shiress' thin shoulder's slumped, as she rested her hands in her lap. She ran the tip of her thumb along the hard and raised skin beneath her wrist. Glancing down, she turned her hand over, revealing the scar as a slaves brand. 'Shiress' it read. Her name, a simple thing, but it's meaning was so much more. Old it may be, but it still spoke truth.
"You're a slave, Shiress" she told the empty room. "Who would want a relationship with a slave." She was silent a tick, studying the scar, before mumbling, "Even if the feeling happen to be mutual he wouldn't want a slave. No one would.."
Lurching herself from the chair she had been sitting, Shiress made it three steps before angrily slamming her fist against her thighs. "God's be damned, I just want to go home!!" she said, the words spewing up like vomit. The slave didn't know where they had come from, she instantly regretted saying them. Or maybe it was just from moving too fast?
Pressure formed and spread throughout Shiress' head, at the same time a wave of nausea hit her gut. She swayed in place, willing her breakfast to stay put. It did, but frustration ignited her ire once again. Pivoting on a heel, she slung herself around and crossed the floor in a huff. Yanking open the door, she stomped over the threshold.
A brisk walk would cool her down.