21st of Spring, 514 AV
Dragoon Training Grounds
Dragoon Training Grounds
Her mind was dead set on vengeance. Revenge filled her emotions to the brim. She was enraged, yet completely at peace. She knew what she needed to do. She had planned everything out. The woman was going to learn how to fight.
Her hair was ratty, worn and greasy looking. Her eyes were dark and the bags that rested underneath them were heavy and ugly. Her entire body ached as she walked.
She continued to walk, her eyes never wavering from the line she placed each of her feet on. She didn't traipse, she didn't jog. In a way, she almost strutted the entire time she walked down the street.
No thoughts rambled inside her mind. She knew what she was going to do and she knew how she was going to do it. She brought money, she knew how to beg somewhat. She knew what she was planning on doing.
She was going to learn how to fight. Firstly, she knew how she was going to defend herself a little better. She wanted to bear the knowledge of how she was going to react to being taken off guard.
She didn't want to be taken advantage of any longer. She was ready to be in control of her life no matter what it took. She wanted to not only protect herself but those she loved.
With a face as hard as rock, she proceeded to broaden her knowledge in the arts of self defense and offense.
She woke up to the sound of birds and their blissful voices singing out to the brightness of the morning sun. In no way was Lenz feeling bright and cheery. She felt rather melancholy, her head throbbing near the temples and her nose stinging so bad that it made her start to cry.
She couldn’t recall how she wound up inside the tent last night. Her memory fled her when it was needed most. It didn’t bother a whole lot, though. It didn’t haunt her or hang over her shoulder like she had told a lie. It wasn’t like her past was creeping up on her again, its malevolent claws extended and grimace brighter than ever.
She made sure she was able to move. This was her first fear, not being able to move, becoming paralyzed for whatever reason had caused her to hurt so much this morning. The first question that popped into her head echoed. What happened last night?
She felt dirty, like she was a perversion of a woman. Images of prostitutes trampled into her mind, rejecting anything positive or optimistic. Finally her memories no longer fleeted. They retreated back into her brain, stunning her heart into skipping a beat.
Had she really done that? Had she really tried to seduce a man in gruesome and slutty ways only to try to steal his money? And in the end, she could recognize a fist as it hammered into her face, jaw and eventually, her nose.
She touched it with tender fingers and quickly retracted them when a burning sensation spread across her cheeks. She squinted, tears forcing themselves to the surface, readying themselves for a time of freedom.
She wouldn’t dare look at how bad it was. She was going to pretend like nothing had ever happened. Hopefully she would be able to sneak out of the tent before Ipisol woke up and return after she had fallen asleep.
Sitting up, the woman went to turn and grab her coat when crystal blue eyes locked onto hers. They were wide and watery, concern bubbling up inside and threatening to spill out in the form of salty drops.
“What happened to you?” she asked, choking on her words as she said them.
Lenz sighed and brushed her hair behind her ears, in turn revealing more damaged skin. Bruises littered her face. One was incidentally placed over her right eye. Thankfully, she was able to see partially out of it, for it had healed quite a lot overnight. Her nose must have looked deformed, distorted, bloody and broken. Her lip must have appeared slit, cut, ripped into two pieces. She wouldn’t have guessed who she was if she didn’t know already.
She sighed again and tried to conjure up a false scenario in her mind, but to no avail. She had to tell the truth, besides, what else would be believable? She was mauled by a wild animal? That incident had almost happened already. She tripped and fell on her face? How fake could someone get if that was their back up story?
Finally she came clean, starting to bite her lip before pain shot through her mouth, reverberating throughout her tongue and into the cavities of her teeth.
“I got myself into some trouble,” she said, beginning to play with her fingers. They two were a little damaged. She couldn’t remember when she had lost a nail or why one was a little bloody.
“What do you mean?” the child inquired, leaning in with a face contorted into a mask of empathy and sorrow. She was so worried, but that is not what a little girl should feel. Those should be the emotions portrayed by a guardian, an adult, not a child.
“Tell me,” she pressured, giving Lenz no alternative to back out. She didn’t even suggest a compromise. She decided to start from the beginning, telling the story as if it was happening to her all over again.
“I don’t want to tell you, but you leave me no choice,” she said, shifting her position on the bedroll she sat on so that she felt more comfortable. “Do you remember last night?” she asked?
Ipisol nodded her head frantically, her eyes still bulging, as if daring to pop out of her eye sockets. Morbid and deranged thought, Lenz agreed.
“Last night I went out, as I had told you. I was walking, determined to enjoy myself. You see, I wanted to have a personal night, one where I could feel like a teenager again. I wanted to enjoy myself and have a few drinks, maybe even make some new friends.”
As the woman told the story, she began to feel foolish. It was silly of her to think that in such a city as Sunberth she would be accompanied by trustworthy friends. Everyone was using everyone else. There was no trust, there was no honesty. Everything was a façade, a fable, a falsified view of reality.
It was all fake, fallible and unjust.
“I saw a bonfire off in the distance. You see, I had heard of the slag heap parties happening around this time in the season. They usually host these parties over there. So I went, feeling ignorant and free of all worry, or so I thought. It wasn’t until I met this man that things began to turn for the worse.”
Ipisol gasped all of the sudden, pointing to her guardian’s face. Instinctively, Lenz brought her hand up to her nose, and prodded gently around the area, expecting to find blood gushing out of her nostrils and down her chin, staining the clothing she wore, which wasn’t as clean as she originally thought.
“What?” she asked, fearing for the worst.
Ipisol shook her head from side to side. “Nothing,” she said. “I just didn’t see your tongue until you started talking.”
Lenz rolled her eyes back in her head. Of course. She must have bitten her tongue during the struggle. The result of her jaw clenching and sudden punches to her face would no doubt cause her to rip the edges of her tongue to shreds. No wonder it was painful every time she tried to enunciate her words.
“That too,” she added, pointing to her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Lenz said reassuringly. “It certainly wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”
She laid her hand on the child’s forearm and started to massage it. She worked her finger tips into the girl’s flesh. She poked at it and made sure that she could feel her bone under her finger nails. She was tentative and very gentle, making sure that she wouldn’t hurt the girl.
She was rewarded with a smile as Ipisol closed her eyes and enjoyed the relaxing comfort. Lenz continued to knead her arm, cutting her attention in half, twice. One part of her was concentrating on one arm, another part was concentrating on the other. Another part made sure to continue to tell the story where the last part continued to watch the child’s reactions.
She was loving it as the woman pressed her knuckles into her wrist and inner elbow. She quickly became envious, for why couldn’t she be massaged right now? She was the one who needed it far more than she did!
As if by reading her thoughts, Ipisol opened her eyes and swatted her hand again, moving over to start to dig her fingertips into Lenz’s shoulders. It felt much better than she would have believed. She even absentmindedly let out an embarrassing groan.
“Go on,” Ipisol urged, continuing with her therapeutic work.
So she went ahead and started again. There was much to say, so she just let it spill out in one thick stream.