oh good! I don't mind the pp; he's just an npc after all.
Isabella watched as she stood, wringing her hands nervously. It had been a silly accident, her own fault that her relatively new slave had been injured. Glass had fallen, a flask breaking on the hard packed ground in the main room. The slave had slipped, tripping over when she had yelled a startled cry when she had dropped it. The glass had sliced open his leg badly and it was the only time that the woman had seen the slave react beyond his usual mannerisms. At first it had seemed a lot better than it was, and after they had washed it out with rain water, it was clear it was definitely worse than they had thought. They had transferred him into the pillowed fortune telling room.
The stranger had instantly gone to work on her slave, whose eyes were red with the tears he had been fighting back. Isabella stared at the white pelt marred by blood. He was scarred now, just like her. Oh, her poor, beautiful Kaoru. She fed the slave a drink, and moved his leg. Kaoru bit back his cries of pain, shaking slightly as his leg was elevated on a cotton pillow - the silk ones were hidden away in her den. "H-hai," he said repeatedly after everything the woman had said, obeying blindly even though he barely understood what she had said to him. It was easy to understand while in pain.
The glint of a needle brought both of their eyes to the other woman, fear evident in both of them. Isabella's heart pounded as she rushed to the slaves side, whose hands shook so badly that he could hardly hold them still. She grasped his hands as soon as the needle was threaded and he looked away, the effects of the drink slowly taking hold. But that did not numb his dislike of the needle. He had been just as skittish with the tool for piercing his septum. Isabella stroked the man's hand, cooing slightly with reassurance.
Once the needle poked through his flesh, he whimpered once and shut his eyes tightly. His grip on her hands was hard, making her fingers numb slightly. As soon as it was over, his hands fell limp in her grip and he opened his eyes tiredly, attempting a smile at his mistress and then back at the woman. Isabella let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. "Thank you..," she said softly, sitting back on her feet. "I know this is late, but who are you, mademoiselle ?"
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