Author's Note: Chapter Three. Dear God, I can't believe this thing has
lived this long. In any case, i'm issuing fair warning. This chapter deals
exclusively with Zamora, and there is some desriptive nudity, so if you are
offended, cease to read NOW.
Chapter Three: Soul in Shadows
I could hardly believe the lavishness of the bath. The tug was easily twice as long as I was tall, and fully that length again in width. The floor was marble tiled, with huge spiraling columns. Everything was so...so clean, so comforting in that it was shades of white, pale blue, and violets. And the scents...oils and soaps of every scent imaginable, I could hardly believe that this was all for my benefit, for I was merely a slave, nothing else than that. Pain still flashed through my body at uneven intervals, bringing a moan unbidden to my lips. The two Wingly women were very understanding of this, more than I could have hoped. The tunic, though cut open at the back, I held clutched to my chest, though it pained me greatly to move my arms that much.
I wondered, mutely, if I had been brought here to be a hand maiden for one of these very same women, imagine my complete surprise when my tattered tunic was stripped away from me, though very gently, the rest of my tattered clothes followed suit just moments before they tipped me backwards into the steaming bath. My body screamed in pain as the hot water struck open wounds, and I could not suppress the hiss of pain. But they were gentle, these Wingly women, much to my surprise.
"How horrible. Such pain you must have suffered," murmured the youngest, passing a soft cloth along my back. Shivers rippled across my skin, and my head was ever bowed low, for I refused to meet their gaze, feeling suddenly cowed in the presence of such kindness.
They carried out their conversation as if I didn't exist, their words soft, barely above a whisper, and seeming to be in awe of my state of health, "I fear it is like this for nearly all of the human slaves Tika. They are so poorly treated. Many of them die from this mistreatment, or worse, live long lives under harsh masters and suffer the pain of a thousand lifetimes. She was lucky, very lucky. They would have beaten her to death of Morin had not intervened."
I listened to their words in silence, the soft scents of the bath and the warm water beginning to lull me into sleep. Though I was not aware of it at the time, as their slender hands washed the dirt and grime from my body, they were also working carefully to heal my hurts.
I was awoken, some time later, by gentle hands shaking my shoulders, and a soft voice soothing across my ears, "Miss Zamora...we've finished now, if you would like to step out of the bath now, Tora has some fresh clothes for you, and our brother would like to speak with you."
It was very reluctantly that I stirred myself, rising slowly from the warm water. I was surprised to find that the aches and pains of my bruises and wounds had faded, that I felt more refreshed, more rested than I had in years. And all this from a simple bath. My eyes widened as I saw the luxerious clothes that had been brought for me, nothing truly spectacular, but the materials...never before had I had anything so rich to wear.
I had expected for them to hand me a towel and leave me to it, I was to be greatly surprised, for it was the opposite. The pair took great care in assuring that all of my wounds were truthfully healed, and in assuring themselves that all traces of the bath water had been successfully banished from my skin. I felt embarassed, that so much attention should be wasted on me, a slave, and I fear I grew suspicious, wondering what they were planning for me, and who this brother of theirs was. I was to find out shortly, but not before the pair of platinum haired sisters had dressed me properly.
The tunic was blue silk, and felt unbelievably smooth against my skin, and it ws embroidered with silver symbols, the breeches were looser than most, but still hugged my well toned legs nicely, silver to match the emroidered patterns and upon my feet, they placed blue silk slippers. It was a strange feeling, to find myself being looked after as if I were a noble or even a Wingly, instead of just a human slave. They brought a mirror before me, and I found myself awestruck as Zika pulled a silver plaited brush through my hair .
The woman that gazed back at me was not one that I had known. Aside from the raven streaks through my platinum hair, and the fact that my eyes were blue instead of crimson, I could have very well have stood beside them as a Wingly! The thought startled me, and took me by even greater surprise when Zika carefully plaited my hair, and Tora placed a delicate necklace about my throat.
* * * * * * * *
(Author's Note: POV changes now from Zam's to a male who's name will remain hidden for purposes of the story.)
I paced, for what else could I do? I had sent to have her brought to my quarters on the grounds that I wished a proper slave for my younger sisters. Being of one of the nobler families, my reasoning was believed immediately, and it was whispered, I suppose, that I wanted her as a bed slave as well. Let them talk. The fact of the matter was Zamora belonged in my house. She was the daughter of my mother's hand maiden, and the daughter of one of my own guards. Both had been executed when Zamora had been born, and despite my mother's wishes, my father had set her loose in the slave system. It had taken me years to find her again, tragicly, Mother would never see the child she had helped bring into this world. Still, I had found her, and I had brought her home. I still had no idea what I would do with her, but she would be safe here, and she would remain in my home.
It was strange, I had felt this odd sort of pull, as if it were imperative that I find her and have her brought to me. Instead of that pull I felt only nervousness, what would I say, how would she react? Would the years of hard slavery have cowed her, would she be as placating as every other slave I had ever purchased off the block? Or had her spirit endured? Would she be something truly worthy of admiration? A knock at the door, I called out in response, bidding them to enter, and turned, to take in the being that had haunted my dreams for so long....
She took away my breath. Though not of noble blood surely, she held herself as if she was. Her back was stright, her chin held up, as if she would look down her nose at me for whatever reason. Zika had done wonders with her, the raven and platinum locks gleamed in the artifical light, like so much precious metal. Her skin was pale, and unmarred by the bruises and scars I had been expecting, truly, my sisters had done a magnificent job with her.
I crossed the room to great her, to take her hands in my own, for in that instant I knew why it had seemed so important that I find her. In that instant I knew that we were meant to be together, that ours would be the sort of love that spanned the gaps of time, that would be remembered always. Yes, everything fell into place then.
"Zamora, welcome home," I could see the fear that flashed in her eyes, the confusion. She was wary, this I could see, even a blind man could have seen it, but the instant my hands closed around hers that sense of familiarity seemed to flare through both of us, and it was to my surprise that she stepped into my arms to rest her head against my shoulder.
"Home," the word was whispered softly. My eyes closed as my arms closed about her. I felt as if I could spend the rest of my life just like that, standing there with her always. It was as if the weight of centuries of unrest had been lifted from my shoulders.
"Home," I answered just as softly, for home she truly was.
Chapter Three: Soul in Shadows
I could hardly believe the lavishness of the bath. The tug was easily twice as long as I was tall, and fully that length again in width. The floor was marble tiled, with huge spiraling columns. Everything was so...so clean, so comforting in that it was shades of white, pale blue, and violets. And the scents...oils and soaps of every scent imaginable, I could hardly believe that this was all for my benefit, for I was merely a slave, nothing else than that. Pain still flashed through my body at uneven intervals, bringing a moan unbidden to my lips. The two Wingly women were very understanding of this, more than I could have hoped. The tunic, though cut open at the back, I held clutched to my chest, though it pained me greatly to move my arms that much.
I wondered, mutely, if I had been brought here to be a hand maiden for one of these very same women, imagine my complete surprise when my tattered tunic was stripped away from me, though very gently, the rest of my tattered clothes followed suit just moments before they tipped me backwards into the steaming bath. My body screamed in pain as the hot water struck open wounds, and I could not suppress the hiss of pain. But they were gentle, these Wingly women, much to my surprise.
"How horrible. Such pain you must have suffered," murmured the youngest, passing a soft cloth along my back. Shivers rippled across my skin, and my head was ever bowed low, for I refused to meet their gaze, feeling suddenly cowed in the presence of such kindness.
They carried out their conversation as if I didn't exist, their words soft, barely above a whisper, and seeming to be in awe of my state of health, "I fear it is like this for nearly all of the human slaves Tika. They are so poorly treated. Many of them die from this mistreatment, or worse, live long lives under harsh masters and suffer the pain of a thousand lifetimes. She was lucky, very lucky. They would have beaten her to death of Morin had not intervened."
I listened to their words in silence, the soft scents of the bath and the warm water beginning to lull me into sleep. Though I was not aware of it at the time, as their slender hands washed the dirt and grime from my body, they were also working carefully to heal my hurts.
I was awoken, some time later, by gentle hands shaking my shoulders, and a soft voice soothing across my ears, "Miss Zamora...we've finished now, if you would like to step out of the bath now, Tora has some fresh clothes for you, and our brother would like to speak with you."
It was very reluctantly that I stirred myself, rising slowly from the warm water. I was surprised to find that the aches and pains of my bruises and wounds had faded, that I felt more refreshed, more rested than I had in years. And all this from a simple bath. My eyes widened as I saw the luxerious clothes that had been brought for me, nothing truly spectacular, but the materials...never before had I had anything so rich to wear.
I had expected for them to hand me a towel and leave me to it, I was to be greatly surprised, for it was the opposite. The pair took great care in assuring that all of my wounds were truthfully healed, and in assuring themselves that all traces of the bath water had been successfully banished from my skin. I felt embarassed, that so much attention should be wasted on me, a slave, and I fear I grew suspicious, wondering what they were planning for me, and who this brother of theirs was. I was to find out shortly, but not before the pair of platinum haired sisters had dressed me properly.
The tunic was blue silk, and felt unbelievably smooth against my skin, and it ws embroidered with silver symbols, the breeches were looser than most, but still hugged my well toned legs nicely, silver to match the emroidered patterns and upon my feet, they placed blue silk slippers. It was a strange feeling, to find myself being looked after as if I were a noble or even a Wingly, instead of just a human slave. They brought a mirror before me, and I found myself awestruck as Zika pulled a silver plaited brush through my hair .
The woman that gazed back at me was not one that I had known. Aside from the raven streaks through my platinum hair, and the fact that my eyes were blue instead of crimson, I could have very well have stood beside them as a Wingly! The thought startled me, and took me by even greater surprise when Zika carefully plaited my hair, and Tora placed a delicate necklace about my throat.
* * * * * * * *
(Author's Note: POV changes now from Zam's to a male who's name will remain hidden for purposes of the story.)
I paced, for what else could I do? I had sent to have her brought to my quarters on the grounds that I wished a proper slave for my younger sisters. Being of one of the nobler families, my reasoning was believed immediately, and it was whispered, I suppose, that I wanted her as a bed slave as well. Let them talk. The fact of the matter was Zamora belonged in my house. She was the daughter of my mother's hand maiden, and the daughter of one of my own guards. Both had been executed when Zamora had been born, and despite my mother's wishes, my father had set her loose in the slave system. It had taken me years to find her again, tragicly, Mother would never see the child she had helped bring into this world. Still, I had found her, and I had brought her home. I still had no idea what I would do with her, but she would be safe here, and she would remain in my home.
It was strange, I had felt this odd sort of pull, as if it were imperative that I find her and have her brought to me. Instead of that pull I felt only nervousness, what would I say, how would she react? Would the years of hard slavery have cowed her, would she be as placating as every other slave I had ever purchased off the block? Or had her spirit endured? Would she be something truly worthy of admiration? A knock at the door, I called out in response, bidding them to enter, and turned, to take in the being that had haunted my dreams for so long....
She took away my breath. Though not of noble blood surely, she held herself as if she was. Her back was stright, her chin held up, as if she would look down her nose at me for whatever reason. Zika had done wonders with her, the raven and platinum locks gleamed in the artifical light, like so much precious metal. Her skin was pale, and unmarred by the bruises and scars I had been expecting, truly, my sisters had done a magnificent job with her.
I crossed the room to great her, to take her hands in my own, for in that instant I knew why it had seemed so important that I find her. In that instant I knew that we were meant to be together, that ours would be the sort of love that spanned the gaps of time, that would be remembered always. Yes, everything fell into place then.
"Zamora, welcome home," I could see the fear that flashed in her eyes, the confusion. She was wary, this I could see, even a blind man could have seen it, but the instant my hands closed around hers that sense of familiarity seemed to flare through both of us, and it was to my surprise that she stepped into my arms to rest her head against my shoulder.
"Home," the word was whispered softly. My eyes closed as my arms closed about her. I felt as if I could spend the rest of my life just like that, standing there with her always. It was as if the weight of centuries of unrest had been lifted from my shoulders.
"Home," I answered just as softly, for home she truly was.