Fairy Tail and all of its characters belong to Hiro Mashima.
Lucy woke slowly, her brain muddled with sleep. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow, stretching languorously. When was the last time I slept in a bed? Lucy pondered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.
A knock at the door broke into the jumbled recesses of her mind. Lucy quickly rolled out of bed and onto the floor, scrambling to dig a small dagger from her messily discarded clothes. Clambering to her feet, she approached the door and cautiously cracked it open, keeping the knife hidden in the folds of her robe.
Outside the door stood a smiling and cheerful Mirajane juggling a stack of clothes and plate full of steaming food.
"Good morning, Lucy!" She greeted. "Makarov asked me to bring you a change of clothes and I thought I'd bring you some breakfast."
Lucy felt a little guilty about having a knife at the ready when it was only the friendly and unsuspecting barmaid at her door.
"O-oh yes," Lucy stuttered, hoping Mirajane didn't notice her hesitation. "One moment." She turned away to hastily stuff the knife in the drawer of the bedside table. She returned and took the offered clothes, inviting Mirajane into the small guest room.
"Thank you for bringing this up," Lucy said to the kind barmaid.
"It wasn't a problem," Mirajane responded. "The Master asked me to show you around today and help get you settled. I'll leave this for you. Come find me at the bar when you're ready." She smiled while setting the tray of food on the bedside table before taking her leave.
Lucy securely locked the door behind Mirajane. The delicious smell of food lured her back to the bed as her stomach rumbled. She grabbed the platter, looking around the room for an appropriate place to eat the meal. Finding no better option than the bed, she clumsily clambered into its warm haven. Careful not to spill, she daintily cut and speared a bite sized piece of pancake and dunked it in syrup. Her face lit up at its sweet taste. Fueled by hunger, all decorum was forgotten as she continued to shovel forkfuls into her mouth. A small bit of syrup smudged on her lips as she ate and she greedily licked it away, desperate to collect every last drop of the sugary sweetness.
Lucy scraped the plate clean. Grinning, she glanced around the room before lifting the plate to her face and licking it clean. She frowned as she felt her nose and chin touch the sticky plate, smearing syrup on her face. Uncomfortable but unconcerned, she continued to lick the plate until it was entirely clean, regardless of the mess forming on her face. Then she used her hand to wipe the trail of syrup from her face. She licked her fingers delightedly, reveling in the messy sweetness of the syrup. Setting aside the plate, Lucy signed contentedly, her hunger sated and her stomach full to bursting from the rich food.
Lucy stood and stretched. Her stomach felt fuller than it had possibly ever in her life. Groaning, she rubbed her stomach as she ventured into the connecting bathroom to start a steaming bath. A frown slowly grew on her face as her thoughts began to churn along with the water pouring from the tap.
Stepping out from the robe, Lucy took a brief inventory of her injuries. Reaching up, she began to unwrap her makeshift bandage from her upper arm. She winced in pain. To stem the blood at the time of the injury, she had hastily torn a strip from her dirty petticoats and tied it tightly over the injury. The blood had congealed and the flesh had molded to the soiled bandage. Unable to pry it from the wound, Lucy stepped in the bath, hoping the hot water would help her remove it.
She luxuriated in the near-scalding water as it washed away the weeks of grime and caked on dirt and relieved the ache in her muscles. Her legs were splattered in mud and bruises. Tiny cuts covered most of her body from a particularly nasty battle with a bramble bush a few days ago.
Lucy groaned as she massaged sore muscles. Old injuries were scabbed over with crusted blood that was rinsed away. Lucy lowered herself enough for the water to soak her bandaged upper arm. She gingerly began to pick at the scabs and bandage. The hot water, though painful at first, had softened the wound and bandages enough they could be removed. Lucy inspected the deep cut that was etched into her upper arm, gingerly probing at pink flesh.