Farryn

The Aftermath

The next morning, Farryn woke before the sun, like she always did. Breakfast would need to be ready soon, but she was so cold. She didn't want to get out of bed.

Then she remembered. Serval was dead. She could do... whatever she wanted to do. So she got up and got more firewood, and piled it into the stove, heating the kitchen up. She checked the kettle too. The wine and blood had been diluted by the hot water, and she poured the water out and dumped the rug and rag into the slop bucket.

Tea, she thought. Serval had tea every morning. Green tea, or Hixim tea imported from Yarej. It was ridiculously expensive, so Farryn chose the green tea, and washed the kettle before boiling water for it.

She swept the entire kitchen, not because she had to... but... just because. She basked in the warmth after so long in the cold. Spring was upon them, but still, she hadn't felt this warm in months. Then, she headed upstairs, taking the path that did not pass Serval's office. She went to her chambers, where the slip Serval had worn to bathe the night before lay, wet and on the chaise. It would ruin the upholstery. No matter.

She headed into the bathroom and found the tub still full of dirty water. She drained it, and then heated up some water that she heaved up to the bathroom, filling it with hot water. The last time she came upstairs, she brought a cup of fresh Green tea with her, and placed it on Serval's side table. Then she hopped into the bath.

She scrubbed behind her ears and along her neck, her legs and arms and hands, washing away all the grime that had accumulated over the past few weeks. She dipped her entire head into the water and scrubbed her hair, watching dead lice and dirt float in the filthy water. Then she rinsed herself off with the water left in the flask.

When she felt clean, she climbed out of the tub and dried herself off with one of Serval's plush towels. Farryn glanced herself in the mirror, and looked at the girl who stared back for the first time in months. She didn't look too much like Her. Her hair was a dark brown- a few shades lighter now that it was clean- and the bridge of her nose was high, though it wasn't straight, seeing as it had been broken so many times. She looked so...different.

Will she even recognize me?

Still wrapped in the towel, she left Serval's chambers and headed down the hallway, up a small set of stairs. Whenever she entered this wing, she felt cold, and even now, wrapped in the fluffy towel and still warm from her bath, she felt a chill run through her. It felt like this hallway was haunted. Like she was retracing her steps.

She shook her head. Nonsense superstition. She'd spent years praying ghosts were real, so she knew they weren't.

Farryn walked until she came to a room with a door painted lavender, and opened it. The room was small, and light streamed in through a stained window in the shape of a rose. A thick layer of dust lay on the bed and furniture. She'd never cleaned it. Serval would have chopped her hands off if she'd even dared to step in the room. It was like a sacred place to her, the only sacred place she had left.

Still, apart from the dust, everything was in order. The bed was made, the edges of the light purple duvet tucked in. A silver necklace lay on the pillow. It looked like the room's owner would walk in at any minute, and call for a servant before retiring on the chaise in the corner.

Farryn forced herself to enter the room, keeping her eyes away from the bed. Instead, she headed to the closet directly opposite it. As she opened the door, she held a hand before her face in preparation for the cloud of dust she was expecting.

But there was no dust. In fact, the closet was fairly clean, but for a few cobwebs in the top corners. It looks like it had been cleaned recently, and the dresses at the very front looked new. At least, Farryn suspected they were new. All of this money waster on dresses, when she hardly has enough money to keep this house. Dresses that would never be worn.