“Ah, warm water.”

Rika sighed in contentment as she lowered herself into the steaming water. It had been too long since she’d actually enjoyed a bath. The water stung a bit as it touched her raw skin but it soothed just as quickly.

“All right, all right. Stop rubbing it in,” Fyr called grumpily from behind the privacy screen, “Hurry up and get clean so I can have some hot water too.”

She chuckled, “You could just get your own.”

She heard him stamp his foot like a child, “I need to save money. So do you for that matter. This may be the only chance we get for a while to have warm water, so hurry up!”

She shook her head in amusement, but acknowledged his point and started to scrub in earnest. She hadn’t realized how itchy and tight her skin had become, coated in dirt and smudged with blood. A quick rinse in a cold stream was no substitute for a proper bath. She scrubbed the harsh soap into her scalp as well, hoping to discourage lice, before finally stepping out of the tub and wrapping a threadbare but clean towel around herself.

“Your turn Fyr, but be quick. We need to get moving.”

She turned away to dress, well aware that his enthusiasm for warm water might very well override any sense of embarrassment or propriety. Not that most young men of his age had much propriety to begin with. There was the soft whisper of clothing over skin before she heard a concerned intake of breath.

She turned quickly, already scanning for threats, but Fyr’s eyes were on her, not an intruder, “What is it?”

He flushed crimson, his eyes swiftly lowering to study the floorboards, “Your scars. I hadn’t seen them since…”

Ah. She reached a tentative hand over one shoulder and barely brushed the smooth, raised tissue. She turned away and began to dig through their pack for her clothes, her own cheeks heating in embarrassment. What had she expected? For the briefest of moments, once she’d realized there was no threat, she had thought perhaps… But no, she was damaged goods. Feol was a monster but he had ensured her wounds were properly healed, without scarring; no doubt even he would find her repulsive now.

A tentative touch whispered across her back, across the scars there and she held back a whimper. As much as she loathed the feeling, she longed to be touched. She hated the pity she could sense in his touch, and hated even more how she leaned into that touch nonetheless. She was starving for affection, she saw that now. Her entire childhood had been lacking; her family were not the touchy sort, then Feol’s men and Feol himself. 

“Ri?”

She regretfully tore herself away from his touch, placing space between them, much needed space, “Your water’s likely cold.”

“Rika, look at me.”

Shame ate at her as she refused the request. She could not bear to see the disgust and pity warring in his gaze. 

“If you’re not going to use the water, we should get moving.”

“Jerika.”

She froze at the use of her full name, and relented, looking at him through welling tears. She gasped in surprise as warm arms came around her and held her tight. She melted into the embrace and allowed her tears to fall, uncaring anymore if he saw her as vulnerable or emotional. He had seen her at her worst, bleeding, barely conscious and clinging to life. 

“They’re not hideous, Ri. Whether you believe it or not, the scars are beautiful. They are a symbol of what you endured and survived. And more than that, they kind of look like wings. “

She huffed a tiny laugh in disbelief, “Wings?”

She shivered as his fingers traced the scar over her shoulder blade, then delicately flowing out from it.

“It’s… I think most of it is from my magic, but there are such intricate patterns flowing out from the scars… almost like gossamer feathers.”

Dashing the tears from her eyes, she gently extricated herself from his arms, “Thank you Fyron. I… I needed that.”

He smiled warmly and crossed the small room, back the tub of water, trailed his fingers in the water and his smile grew, “Still lukewarm. Better than cold at least.”

Rika chuckled at his enthusiasm and returned to her outfit, smiling at the small splashes and giggles that came from the bath. Moving to put the privacy screen between them once again, she dressed quickly, having been left feeling exposed for far longer than she would have liked. Rather than take the time now to sew her secret pockets into her new skirt, she simply cut the waistband from her leggings and used it as a belt, folding her skirt’s waist down over it. The shirt was a bit big, but that allowed her still tender skin room to breathe. The ivory fabric was thick enough that her mark would not be visible through it unless wet, and the gloves completed the look. 

Packing up the rest of their things, she allowed Fyr to dress in his “noble attire” once more, now more beige than white, the embroidery beginning to fray and unravel. She briskly rolled his sleeves, deftly tucking the embroidery out of sight, she pulled his shirt out of his pants, allowing the shirttail to cover the well made waistband and pockets, and then she studied him.

“That’s probably as good as we’re going to get. As soon as we camp for the night though, hair.”

Fyr self consciously clutched at his shoulder length hair, “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Oh honey, it’s too long. Only the wealthy keep their hair long. Most keep their hair short because it’s cheaper and easier to care for.” Rika forced herself not to react to the endearment that slipped out without thought, “If it makes you feel better, I'm cutting mine too. I've had lice before, miserable little beasties, I’ve been trying to ward them off ever since.”

“Why tonight though? Couldn’t we do it now?”

“Well yes, if you want everyone in town to know not only what we're wearing but also our new hairstyles. It kind of defeats the purpose of changing our appearance if everyone knows what we look like again before we even leave town. Besides, better not to leave any piece of you behind for a bone mage to use against you.”

Fyr’s jaw dropped, “They can use hair?!”

Having already had the same reaction herself years before when she’d learned that little tidbit, she shrugged carelessly, “They can use any part of you but bones, being the deepest, most structural part of you, have the most power and are easier to tap into for the untrained. Hair being easily and naturally shed has very little power to it but in quantity…”

“You’ve sold me on it. Let’s get out of here. And we are burning every strand of my hair, got it. Every strand.”

“Deal.”

(Below is a quick doodle of Jerika in her full battle garb- as she will be seen later on. Fyr may have an overactive imagination but they DO kinda look like wings, no?)