Lys: Keeping Occupied

The small woman gave him a squeak in response. He smiled, slightly amused, as she left, casting a look back over her shoulder. If she was frightened by him now, what would she have done before?

It just went to show how timid they raised their women here, he thought.

Taking stock of the atrium, he found it all but empty- everything clean and tidy, though not quite returned to normal. Unless normal is an infirmary, that is. The more seriously wounded had not been moved, and there were still people tending them. But those that could leave had done so, and what could be restored had been.

There was nothing for him to do.

And he still had no idea why he wasn't being held with the rest of Cunorix's men. The only person who knew he'd switched loyalties was the surgeon, and he was nowhere to be found. Idly casting about, he found a knife left on the table. It was a surgeon's tool, not something with which one would cut food or make war. Delicate. Like a razor.

He picked it up. It was as good as anything else he could use, he supposed. Taking up a metal bowl of water and moving to a corner, he wet the knife, soaked his face, and set to work shaving as best he could, using the bowl for a mirror. Not the best choice, but it would have to do.

1 comment:

Jenny said...

Just so you know, he does have one blue tattoo under that bush of a beard. But his clan moved towards mostly temporary war paint with the coming of Brother Parthalan and Christianity.

Not entirely sure why, they just did. So he has a sort of sea-and-horse tattoo on his right cheekbone.

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