Entry 1659 Part 2: 

The steam that filled the bathroom made the room unbearably humid. The clothes on Wren’s body clung to each crevice of her skin and itched to be peeled off. But the measly layer of clothing was the only thing keeping this situation from being terribly awkward.

It had taken quite a while for Wren to convince Bellamy to let her wash the woman. Though now, with Bellamy sitting on a small stool under a near-boiling stream of water, the woman’s clothes left behind in the other room, and her hair wrapped up in Wren's fingers....it felt like there was no possible way to make this situation not awkward. No amount of naked grandmas could take the red away from Wren's cheeks. 

Wren sucked in a large breath as she used her forearm to wipe away the sweat that beaded down her forehead. Her hands tilted Bellamy's head back, causing the soap to run down Bellamy’s body into the particularly rusted and clogged drain. The woman’s eyes fluttered closed as if she was relishing the sensation of Wren's fingers moving over her scalp. Like this, Wren could see how long Bellamy’s eyelashes were, the subtle scars over her face, and the smooth, content curve of her lips. It seemed as though Bellamy was enjoying herself. It was hard to imagine that her captor had actually spoken to her just a few minutes ago. If it wasn't for the way the steam nipped at the cuts on her wrist where the chains had torn away at her skin, Wren didn't know if she'd be able to convince herself any of this was real. 

Wren was lured from her thoughts as her eyes caught the way Bellamy was staring into her soul from under her. It was unsettling to say the least, and it caused a shiver to make its way to the very roots of Wren's spine despite the intense heat. 

"Hurt" Slipped from the woman's lips. She reached up and caught Wren's wrist before the girl could pull away. God, she really hadn't meant to hurt Wren. Her eyebrows fretted with guilt before she spun on her stool so she was facing Wren. The girl stiffened under her hold, but she could tell it wasn't from pain, so Bellamy didn't let go. Instead, she looked over the injury intensely, scrutinizing every detail of the rash before Wren forced her hand away and turned off the water, a nervous laugh on Wren's lips as she once again tried to pull the drenched clothing away from her body, even just a tiny bit. She looked so...Bellamy didn't know how to finish that thought. Wren was a mole; to her kind, that meant she was inferior. A coward, the kind of person who hid away during The Fall, something to be taken as entertainment if anything. Bellamy had promised she wouldn't take a pet; she thought it was wrong. Coward or not, this girl was a human, but...
Her eyes scanned Wren from head to toe. She sucked in a breath similar to the intense pant that currently huffed from Wren's lips. When she finished absorbing the sight of the girl, Bellamy’s gaze held on Wren’s scabbed-over lips. 

"Right!" Wren huffed, wiping away more sweat from her face and snapping them out of whatever moment was just going on between them, "Let's get you bandaged up." She hummed, extending a towel towards Bellamy.

An exasperated sigh left Bellamy, who stood from the stool, clearly trying to mask the pain that straightening her stitches caused her. The nudity didn't mean anything to her; it was quite normal among the Exposed. Privacy was often a luxury the outside world didn't grant. But it caused a little smile of satisfaction to rise up onto Bellamy's lips at the way her body clearly made Wren's cheeks deepen in color before the girl looked away. 

Bellamy took the towel Wren held out and put the girl out of her misery as she wrapped the new cloth around her body. 

Wren waited until Bellamy went into the room before she finally stripped off her clothing and washed her own body, pausing a few different times to pull her hair out at her current situation. When she finished, she leaned over the sink, eyes boring into her reflection blurred from the fog. "What the actual fuck?" She squeaked out, lightly tapping her head onto the mirror. In the last few hours, Bellamy had come back half dead, almost bled to death on their cot, trusted Wren to help her in some god-forsaken lapse of judgment, and, to top it all off, spoke to her for the very first time. Not to mention finally taking off her chains. 

Wren didn't have time to process all of this; she'd write out her feelings later. For now, she needed to face her captor in the next room. Though that was easier said than done without a towel or dry clothes to change into.

Ten self-wallowing minutes later, Bellamy smirked at a very naked Wren from her place on the bed. That smirk only got wider at the curses that flew from Wren's mouth as she strode past her and grabbed the spare set of clothes she had. Once she slipped them on, she wiped away the flush from her cheeks and leveled her brain. Those ten minutes had been more than enough time to both get over her embarrassment and assess her current situation. 

Wren leaned against the concrete wall of the room. Her hands pushed down the fabric of her semi-clean cargo pants and half-sleeved gray shirt. It was an effort to calm her nerves, but all it did was remind her how much she needed to wash her clothes. Her gaze hardened on the woman who had dressed and held a beautiful red-tipped dagger and sharpening stone.

 "Let me go," Wren suddenly let out, her voice strong despite the way her hands clenched at her sides anxiously. The consistent shriek of metal sliding over stone halted.