An Unusual Luxury, Scene v1

It was already night by the time they reached Harrin, Rokan’s border city. Kismet led Isella into the room they would be sharing for the night. It was a cozy room suited for a single person. The main room had in it a small dining table, kitchen, and lounging space, with the single bed across the room. When compared to the cell in Koln, the crude camps in the wilderness or in caves, or sharing a basement of a home with up to a dozen other people, the room she stood in was a luxury she thought she’d never experience again.

Kismet closed the door behind her, eyeing the dirt they trailed into the room. “Hey, hey—” snapped the Catheran just before Isella sat on the bed.

Kismet pulled the Kival to the door. “You’re not touching anything before washing off and putting on something clean. We don’t want to cause any more trouble for the owners,” she said as she began unfastening worn belt around Isella’s waist.

Isella tried to struggle away in a panic, pleading. “W-wait! Let me do it myself!”

“Bear with it. I was told not to leave you untied any longer than necessary. The more you cooperate, the sooner it'll be over. Please, sit down so I can take off your boots.”

Isella reluctantly sat on the floor as anxiety gnawed at her. Kismet yanked off her worn leather boots and tattered socks. The sides and soles of her feet were heavily callused and stained with dried blood. As she slipped off the Kival’s linen trousers, Kismet couldn’t help but notice the several scrapings and bruises on both her lower legs. Isella looked away, flushed with embarrassment. Kismet pulled her to her feet by the arm and began untying the bindings around her hands. Her wrists throbbed once the ropes fell loose. The cool autumn breeze slithered into the room through the cracked open window, sending a small chill up her spine as Kismet pulled off her tunic. She stood in the corner near the door after Kismet rebound her hands behind her back. “Please, can’t you just let me do this myself? It’s not like he’d even know.”

The Catheran quickly disrobed without replying. She led Isella through the open door into the adjoined washroom. The open floor sloped subtly toward the drain in the center. Immediately to the right of the door was a small sink and mirror, with a sliding door opening into the small restroom. On the left wall was a large full-length mirror reflecting the counter along the right wall, and the stool that sat in front of it. At the back of the room stretched a bathtub large enough to comfortably fit a large person.

Kismet set the stool near the center of the wash area. She took the large steel bucket of water off the heater near the mirror and set it beside the stool. She gestured toward the seat.

Isella sat atop the wooden stool. She watched Kismet dip a large washing cloth into the bucket of hot water, then at herself sitting there. The sight of herself was rather surreal. Ever since she left the Damire household, she had rarely gotten the opportunity to see herself in a mirror. Even she noticed the hunger taking a toll on her body. Her joints, as well as her ribs, made no effort of hiding themselves. She turned her back to the mirror, unable to look at herself any longer. Her stomach whimpered hungrily.



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