Lys: Forlorn

Aithne nodded and turned aside to the cloister, determined to do some washing up of her own. Her clothing choices were slim- neither the gown she was wearing nor her spare were in anything like good condition any more. She suddenly had a wish for her leine and brat- now there was clothing that would stand up to work.

She looked forlornly at her spare- wrinkled, stained, and slightly bloodied from a mishap on the trail. And it was still in better shape than the one she wore now. Suddenly she laughed aloud. "As if it matters anymore."

But it did matter. She would be the only Scotti here, and something of a wish to do her people proud welled up in her again, along with a counter-reminder of her cowardice. She shook her head as though to free it from the contradictory thoughts, then washed up as best she could in the basin in her cell.

In the end she did change into her spare, and added her old red sash, which brightened it a bit. Then she turned and made her way, somewhat slowly, back to the Atrium. The Guttersnipe was waiting when she got there.

Tired already, she leaned against a wall and remarked, "If something doesn't happen soon, I'll be so sore I won't be able to run away, much less fight."