Nestled behind the privacy screen is a small wooden chest to store his clothes. There has never been much in it -- a few more sets of both inner and outer robes, some trousers, a second hair ribbon just in case. But layered underneath, divided from the newer clothes by one of the soft towels Madam Bar gave him, are the other robes, their hem now jagged from where he tore away some cloth.
They were past repair before. It should make no difference. It was why he used them for the ceremony in the first place.
But now the little strip is even worse off, stiffened by salt water, the blood leached into a wider, paler stain. He rubs a bit of it between his fingers and scrapes the fibers with a thumbnail. Nothing comes off.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-09-15 08:00 pm (UTC)They were past repair before. It should make no difference. It was why he used them for the ceremony in the first place.
But now the little strip is even worse off, stiffened by salt water, the blood leached into a wider, paler stain. He rubs a bit of it between his fingers and scrapes the fibers with a thumbnail. Nothing comes off.
Carefully, he rises to move behind the screen.