Snippet #2562230

The Blondie guided her to a chair, and placed food in front of her before she could even say another word. She was as far from the people, she noticed, as she could casually be, but she still tucked tightly into herself, ankles crossed tightly, shoulders nearly up to her ears, hands clasping each other fiercely. Today could be the day they decided to kill her. The day they decided she wasn't worth the effort, the time, the resources. She wondered if she'd even resist the blade they'd slash across her throat.

She raised her hands up to her neck protectively, fingers running across a scar there, feeling the ridges and bumps calmly. She'd almost been murdered. A slice across the throat should have killed her. But it didn't. She didn't know why. In fact, she didn't know why she hadn't been killed by any of the injuries that had left her scarred. Her arms, legs, chest and back were covered in soft scars, her forearms braided with harsh burn marks, her throat forever slashed by the remnant of that violent act. But she was still there, alive, sitting in the kitchen, a bowl of stew that smelled of spices and heat and made her mouth water before her.

It occurred to her that she was, in fact, incredibly hungry. She hadn't eaten in days, since the men sent her on her way. With a quiet bow of her head to the man that had carried her yesterday, she quickly dug into the food, spoonful after spoonful filling her stomach as fast as she dared to eat. She had to pause a few times to pant, let her tongue cool, before resuming her rapid feeding pace. Having the Blondie sit beside her was...comforting, though she felt some tug at the back of her mind to slow down, eat like a lady, like the men had taught her to. But she was too hungry to really stop eating, so she shushed the voice, and finished her food before letting out a contented sigh.

Sitting back, she pulled her knees up onto the chair, and let her bright eyes fall on the Blondie at her side. She wanted to smile. But she knew if she tried, that it would look empty. And sad. And he would get that unhappy look on his face, and he would stop smiling. And she never wanted him to stop smiling. Because when he smiled at her, even just for a moment, even though his eyes still screamed sadness, it felt a little like forgiveness for anything she might have done.