Post by Evie Perroy on May 11, 2010 13:37:42 GMT
Evie awoke feeling surprisingly rested. She opened her eyes, slowly registering the sunlight that streamed through her window. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she glanced sleepily around her bedroom with a horrible niggling feeling in the back of her mind.
What was different? Come to think of it, Evie couldn't remember undressing and going to bed the night before, or even coming home at all. Her eyes rested on a bundle of white and red fabric on the floor, and in a tumult of emotions and memories, the previous day came flooding back to her. Dante was dead. She was alone. Her hands tightened on the bedsheets. Evie couldn't physically cry anymore, but as she looked back towards the window, she felt incredibly sad that time had just carried on. This was a new morning for everyone except Dante.
These thoughts were interrupted with an overwhelming nausea, and Evie flung herself out of bed, only just reaching a bucket before she retched. Kneeling on the floor, she held her hair back with one hand, shocked that the memory of yesterday was having such a physical effect on her body. After throwing up several more times on all fours, Evie shakily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then stood up and looked into the small cracked mirror that hung on her bare wall.
She looked as exhausted as she felt. Her face looked pale, anemic, and her fair hair was still stained red in places. Evie looked at herself for a long while. Although she wasn't clothed; the spring sunlight combined with room's tiny dimensions made it a comfortable temperature be in. A welcome bowl of clean water sat on the wobbly desk that doubled as a dressing table, and Evie spent the next half hour carefully washing herself from head to toe, allowing the methodical cleaning to absorb her mind completely. The water swam a murky red when she had finished. Pulling one of the sheets from her bed and wrapping it around her freshly washed body, she descended to the room below, home to Miss Amber, one of the mistresses of the brothel...
...Evie returned to her room to dress in the borrowed clothes that were too big for her, and then sat cross legged on the bed unsure of what to do with herself. She couldn't, wouldn't work today, and she refused to go anywhere near the castle. Her stomach rumbled. Now that the morning's sickness had passed, she was pretty hungry, and most likely dehydrated. She ran a hand through her almost dry hair, and made the decision to find Henry. He was the only person she could consider being with today.
What was different? Come to think of it, Evie couldn't remember undressing and going to bed the night before, or even coming home at all. Her eyes rested on a bundle of white and red fabric on the floor, and in a tumult of emotions and memories, the previous day came flooding back to her. Dante was dead. She was alone. Her hands tightened on the bedsheets. Evie couldn't physically cry anymore, but as she looked back towards the window, she felt incredibly sad that time had just carried on. This was a new morning for everyone except Dante.
These thoughts were interrupted with an overwhelming nausea, and Evie flung herself out of bed, only just reaching a bucket before she retched. Kneeling on the floor, she held her hair back with one hand, shocked that the memory of yesterday was having such a physical effect on her body. After throwing up several more times on all fours, Evie shakily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then stood up and looked into the small cracked mirror that hung on her bare wall.
She looked as exhausted as she felt. Her face looked pale, anemic, and her fair hair was still stained red in places. Evie looked at herself for a long while. Although she wasn't clothed; the spring sunlight combined with room's tiny dimensions made it a comfortable temperature be in. A welcome bowl of clean water sat on the wobbly desk that doubled as a dressing table, and Evie spent the next half hour carefully washing herself from head to toe, allowing the methodical cleaning to absorb her mind completely. The water swam a murky red when she had finished. Pulling one of the sheets from her bed and wrapping it around her freshly washed body, she descended to the room below, home to Miss Amber, one of the mistresses of the brothel...
...Evie returned to her room to dress in the borrowed clothes that were too big for her, and then sat cross legged on the bed unsure of what to do with herself. She couldn't, wouldn't work today, and she refused to go anywhere near the castle. Her stomach rumbled. Now that the morning's sickness had passed, she was pretty hungry, and most likely dehydrated. She ran a hand through her almost dry hair, and made the decision to find Henry. He was the only person she could consider being with today.
