Let Not Light See My Black and Deep Desires
11th of Frost, Year 123 of the Age of Steel
11th of Frost, Year 123 of the Age of Steel
Out of all the chores she had been assigned, laundry was inarguably the most unpleasant. Currently, Veriel was greeted by the sight of relatively fresh blood on a wet, crumpled shirt. It was quite an impressive amount, enough to make her wonder if the victim was still around.
In the center of the room, a few people stood around a massive wooden tub, each holding a wooden bat and hitting the laundry swirling inside the warm water. Steam wafted into the air and filled the room, trapping them with uncomfortable moisture. Clearly, the first phase of the wash did not succeed in removing the stain. Still, it was preferable to the urine and shit that could often be found.
She placed it into the soapy bucket in front of her and started scrubbing it across the washboard. Her fingers had shriveled up a while ago and her legs aching from squatting down for so long. Even as time passed and her arms started to protest, the stain persisted. Veriel huffed and let it sink back down to the water, stretching out her arms in front of her to release the tension.
As she wiggled her fingers, the siltori didn’t pay any attention to the girl who was precariously making her way through the group with her pail in hand. Veriel definitely didn’t notice as the girl tripped and began losing her balance near her. It was only when someone shouted, “Watch out!”, and Veriel looked up only to see the bucket in her hands tipping towards her.
SPLASH.
Veriel cursed and leaped to her feet, accidentally kicking her own setup. Half of her body was drenched by the mysterious water. Her black hair was dripping with water as she looked at the culprit. It was a young woman in her thirties with eyes widened into circles. Her frightened face wasn’t familiar so she wasn’t one of the dawnmartyrs. She opened her mouth to say something, but then abruptly turned away and quickly walked away with her head down.
“You’re lucky it’s just soap water, girl,” the gray-haired woman crouched next to her said gruffly, gathering the shirts that escaped the bucket Veriel had knocked over. “It could have been much worse.”
Veriel looked down. Her right side was soaked, the fabric of her clothes sticking to her skin. It did mostly smell like soap, but there was no guarantee that a piss-soaked bedsheet hadn’t been festering in it just moments ago. Not only that, there would be nothing for her to change into. Her spare set of clothes was somewhere in the pile of laundry they were working. The siltori would be stuck in the wet uniform until it dried - however long that might take in a sunless prison.
Her silver eyes traveled to the guards, half wondering if they would let her have a quick rinse in the showers. As if sensing her line of thought, one of the Kathars locked eyes on her and scowled. “Get back to work!”
Of course not. She let out a sigh as she knelt back down to pick up her washboard. “I must be blessed by Vhexur today then.”