She nods the once, had - quite enough feelings for one day, easier to be quiet now. Nods to him the once and passes him the wrapped up jewellery. "Don't lose it." Because she trusts him - now more than ever.
But it's been far too long till she felt moderately clean, and she's eager in the way she wraps the scarf around her waist, peels off the coat that she'd hung onto half as close as the gold.
After they're off, she comes back to his side, an amused laughter, as she looks at him - how strange this, how reminiscent of something she had not done in years. Not that it stops her particularly until she's down to pants and the under-shirt someone gave her to replace the silk that had ripped beyond use in one attack or another. Had some name for it - or whatever, they'd given her a funny look when she'd said it, which was normal - and an insistence that 'women didn't have to dress like that anymore.'
She'd been good, and only grumbled slightly at the changes that had gone by without her noticing.
They're bundled up and she kneels to the water's edge and begins to rinse them. Letting the water wash off the blood, half dried. Letting them soak before she lowers herself, splashing water up over her face and shoulder, a relief from the sun, letting it splash over her and cool her, find her face and hair under her blood as she cups it in handfuls and splashes it up and over herself. Running damp hands up over across the back of her neck and across her shoulders, brushing over an ugly entrance wound that sits a white scar on her dark skin.
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But it's been far too long till she felt moderately clean, and she's eager in the way she wraps the scarf around her waist, peels off the coat that she'd hung onto half as close as the gold.
After they're off, she comes back to his side, an amused laughter, as she looks at him - how strange this, how reminiscent of something she had not done in years. Not that it stops her particularly until she's down to pants and the under-shirt someone gave her to replace the silk that had ripped beyond use in one attack or another. Had some name for it - or whatever, they'd given her a funny look when she'd said it, which was normal - and an insistence that 'women didn't have to dress like that anymore.'
She'd been good, and only grumbled slightly at the changes that had gone by without her noticing.
They're bundled up and she kneels to the water's edge and begins to rinse them. Letting the water wash off the blood, half dried. Letting them soak before she lowers herself, splashing water up over her face and shoulder, a relief from the sun, letting it splash over her and cool her, find her face and hair under her blood as she cups it in handfuls and splashes it up and over herself. Running damp hands up over across the back of her neck and across her shoulders, brushing over an ugly entrance wound that sits a white scar on her dark skin.