Under The Tent Top (COMPLETED)

Thirty - Five

WHEN I stepped out, the rushed footsteps behind me were halted by armed men.

"Where are you taking her?" Rene shouted over their shoulders.

Odin ignored her as his hand suddenly found itself around my elbow. His fingers curled around my joint aggressively. My feet struggled to keep up with his pace.

Suddenly, I found myself in a small room surrounded by timid women. They gazed up at Odin in a submissive manner. No one dared moved until the fat man closed the door.

"Come sit." A young lady called out to me.

"What's going on?" I asked the fear filled faces.

One girl - barely the age of eighteen - reached for my hand. "Odin has asked us to prepare you for tonight."

As this girl spoke, the others around me began to wipe my skin with wet cold cotton towels. One then cautiously brought a small vial to my nose. I pulled away as soon as my eyes had met my reflection against the black liquid.

"No," I protested. "Don't bring that thing near me."

The girls quickly had their hands around me. Their cold fingers barley touching me, yet, were still desperate to keep me from moving away.

I stared at the girl who held the vial. My eyes searching for hers. She refused to make eye contact. I turned my gaze towards the other ladies around me. Every single one had their eyes to the ground. Their faces painted with regret and shame.

"Please Nightingale," I turned to my right. A thin framed woman whispered, her hands shaking against my shoulder. "Odin wants you to take a few sniffs. Please. We don't have a lot of time to dress you for tonight."

"You know what it does..." I muttered pleadingly.

The women in the room shifted on the balls of their feet - they knew.

"I won't tell him," I urged. "I promise."

"He'll know. He'll hurt us." One lady replied.

My heart fell, fully understanding the position Odin had placed them in. "Okay," I reluctantly agreed.

This lot of mendacium must have been more concentrated then most. One waft of air burned through my nostrils. My eyes clouded over, my head grew lighter, and my breath fell shallow.

The woman around me frowned apologetically.

"Nightingale," I heard a faint voice call. "I'm sorry. We're sorry."

I took a small breath, as my eyes met the gaze of another. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

~*~

The next few minutes after felt like a lucid dream. Gentle hands had stripped me from the charcoal covered garments, and had replaced them with a shear fabric. There were no sleeves, buttons or zippers. It was simply wrapped around me in a loose manner.

I staggered where I stood. The fabric flowed in compensation, barely covering my body.

My hands reached forward towards the nearest girl. Her young face looked into mine - apologetically.

"You're young." I whispered.

I watched her lips press. "Fifteen, ma'am."

"I'm not ma'am. I'm barely thirty."

She gingerly smiled as the other women hurried their tasks as hairdressers.

"You're too young for this evil." I stated through my dazed state.