Post by rosallora on Jan 16, 2021 20:37:11 GMT -8
Toustain sits up a bit more when the man returns, more comfortable in the warm water. Warming, so, soothing her from the inside out. "Hello again," she murmurs. He was a kind man, of course - that had been shown well enough in this small time together in both silence and speaking. A gentleness of touch, even if that alone caused her some small spike of fear. And of course, a tenderness of voice. He even went as far to commend her, to bolster her. She feels any fear she had of him abating, bit by bit.
And a woman emerged - fiery hair damp and carrying utensils to aid in, well. In her own cleaning? Toast's eyes widen a bit at her, but she tries a smile, a meek thing. "I... thank you." She rests her hands on the edge of the tub. "It's nice to see you. Again?" She recognizes her from the festival - the hair was a hard thing to miss. "I believe you came to Vestalia... please forgive me for not knowing your name." She is still a mess, and she knows this. She is hardly in the place to be a representative for the church, as worn down and wrung out as she looks. "And for my. Ah. For the way I am. Ah." She glances down. "More for the raggedness than the. Nudity." She turns to the other side of the tub, then winces, the long angry lines of her punishment pulling at her. Toustain turns back to them fully, looking at the Lord's closed eyes. "I... suspect you may be here because I'm making rather peculiar requests of the poor Lord of this bathhouse." Her voice trembles with attempted comedy, but the smile is a bit less tragic at least.
And a woman emerged - fiery hair damp and carrying utensils to aid in, well. In her own cleaning? Toast's eyes widen a bit at her, but she tries a smile, a meek thing. "I... thank you." She rests her hands on the edge of the tub. "It's nice to see you. Again?" She recognizes her from the festival - the hair was a hard thing to miss. "I believe you came to Vestalia... please forgive me for not knowing your name." She is still a mess, and she knows this. She is hardly in the place to be a representative for the church, as worn down and wrung out as she looks. "And for my. Ah. For the way I am. Ah." She glances down. "More for the raggedness than the. Nudity." She turns to the other side of the tub, then winces, the long angry lines of her punishment pulling at her. Toustain turns back to them fully, looking at the Lord's closed eyes. "I... suspect you may be here because I'm making rather peculiar requests of the poor Lord of this bathhouse." Her voice trembles with attempted comedy, but the smile is a bit less tragic at least.