Thread: To Kill a Nightingale (DeRe & Malicious Lullaby)

She hardly noticed when someone approached. She didnt hear a word. She was in some other land where she was waiting eagerly to be welcomed in her mothers arms again. Then all of a sudden her head was lifted and before she could even touch her mother, she was brought back to the world of pain that currently smothered her head. With how many times her head was hit against the edge of the iron as those men brutally fucked her, she was surprised she was still alive and that her brain hadnt turned into an aneurysm mush from the blunt trauma. A shivering whimper came from her as she was removed with all the gentle in the world. It felt like such a new concept, gentleness and it hadnt even been that long. She was placed into a makeshift stretcher. The cloth was oddly comforting regardless of how thin it might have been in comparison to the luxury of warm pelts on a cold night. The moment her body was snug in the cloth and she was being carried, the movement lulled her and with a deep exhaling breath of final rest, her eyes closed and she drifted. Not even the warmth of the water woke her. It only found reason to keep her unconscious. The gray woman cleaned her, bathed her, tended to Delilahs wounds all while humming an eerily comforting tune, her voice almost a deep baritone that could rival a mans. Delilah didnt wake for three days. On the third day, when she did wake, it was in a traumatic fervor. Her eyes shot open, she gasped for breath and she thrashed, crying and screaming. The gray woman quickly hushed her, soothed her gently and resumed humming the soft eerily comforting tune until Delilah fell back asleep. She was calm, she breathed evenly and she knowingly slept. On the fifth day, the bites from the creatures had turned to scars and were not infected. Her bruises had paled, turning brown in their healing and no longer stark black, blue or red. The cuts on her face had completely healed, leaving only the slightest imperfect just above her upper lip, hardly noticeable unless one really looked. The gray woman had done her best. The real challenge was the blunt trauma to the back of Delilahs head and after the outburst she had two days ago, the gray woman wasnt sure the former princess would make the recovery. But as she nursed her back to health, her motor functions were not impaired, as noted in the way she moved in her sleep. On the sixth day, Delilah was awake. The gray woman came back into the room to find her sitting up in bed and she looked a lot healthier, more alive. There was a new life present in her gaze, a new light. Sitting in front of her, the gray woman touched Delilahs forehead and then her cheek. She was warm, her skin had its natural flush and rosy tint. She looked like she hadnt eaten in a few days and while that was true, she didnt look sickly. She looked...reformed. What is your name? Delilah. Her voice was above a whisper but not very loud. Rather...meek. What do you remember? My kingdom taken. My title stripped. My soul She paused as she straightened her spine and a small smile formed on her face. Saved. The gray woman nodded. And your head? Just a small dull ache, but nothing intolerable. Good. He will be pleased. The gray woman cupped the girls chin and turned her face, her gaze casting upon the small knick above her lower lip. I hope. I did the best I could. You should suffice. Suffice? It is time for you to be dressed. Standing, the gray woman held her hands out. Come my dear.