Minstrel

Chapter #12 ~ Creak

Creak's feet swished in the cold water of her bath. After messing herself up in the head and passing out she couldn't remember how many days she had been in the slavers' wagon. All she knew was that she had taken a nice nap only to be woken up and dragged away from Vern. Her head had exploded with pain and the woman slaver practically had to carry her up the stairs and into the room she was in now. She had been told to get cleaned up either with the slaver's help or by herself. She had chosen the latter and then soon found herself shivering in an icy tub of water. Any slight movement threatening to give her a nasty splinter.
The once clear water had turned black shortly after she had touched it. Creak was so filthy she wasn't sure she could even get clean.

Presentable? Maybe, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Well at least one good thing will come out of our imprisonment," Gorgos said almost gleefully, "you might actually smell good for the first time in your life."

Creak almost laughed. "Is that optimism I hear in your voice?"

"Eww." She spat back, "who do you think I am? Angel?"

A pounding on the washroom door knocked Creak back to the real world. "Are you done yet?" The raspy voice of her female guard slapped her from the other side of the door.

"Just about." Creak yelled back not bothering to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "It takes more than a minute to get clean, you know."
The woman didn't respond and Creak figured she had probably left to the other side of the room.

Dipping her head in the the grimy water, Creak scrubbed her scalp. Her hair hadn't been washed in years and she wasn't sure if it would ever detangle. Once the cold proved to be too much and her breath was almost gone, Creak resurfaced and got out of the tub. Her skin was as clean as it was going to get, but still looked stained with dirt. Maybe she was just tan or maybe the dirt would never really go away.

Sighing, she put on the dress that the slaves got her to replace the shredded one she had owned before. Creak didn't know what they would do with her old dress, but it was so ruined nothing but burning it would suffice.

Running her fingers through her wild, wet mane, Creak looked at herself in the tall, wood-framed mirror. She hadn't seen herself in years. Hadn't seen why men looked at her with lust and fear and women glared at her with envy.

She didn't want to be vain, but the only word she could find to describe her appearance was beautiful. Her eyes were an ordinary brown, but glowed with a crazy, caring glint. Her face was shaped differently than most people's with a strong jaw that was somehow soft at the same time. Her cheeks were hollow from lack of food and sleep, and her thick eyebrows gave her face a darkness that looked mysterious. Her lips were chapped despite her constant effort to keep them damp.

The sight of herself made her sick. She couldn't stand to look into the eyes of a broken girl; a girl who had ruined her once tolerable life.
Shaking her head, Creak finished tying up the back of her plain cotton dress. It was beautiful, her new dress. Sure it was nothing like what the upper class ladies would wear, but for an urchin? No, it wasn't bad at all. A slight smile crept over her face and for some reason she wonder what Rip would think of her now. Freshly cleaned and wearing nice, new attire. Sure she was going to an auction to be sold as a companion, but her life tended to throw her into distasteful situations.

Pushing past her own thoughts, thoughts that threatened to make her giggle uncontrollably, Creak opened the door. She leaned in the doorway, a smirk on her face and called, "Oh, Miss. Captor Lady I'm done. How do I look?" She strutted across the room, allowing humor to help her cope. She stopped in front of the guard, a hand resting on her hip. "Stunning, right?"