Washed away

Ah Her life came at a price, did it? Did they think she was worth the cost he clearly poured into her in healing her? She wondered what their bitter disappointment would bring. Pain, no doubt. Lots of pain. “Understood, Sir Oleander.” She agreed. She had no choice but to do so. Perhaps… perhaps this could be a new start. She could try to prove herself, and in doing so avoid their disappointment, their anger. Avoid her mothers fate.

She filed away the tidbit about the Warlord, a fearsome name. His commands came above all else - she was familiar with that concept as well, and of doing the bidding of all. He approached, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Had she been too bold? But instead of striking her, he moved to unwrap her bandage. He was a healer he had said. He was the reason she felt little pain as it was. She had mixed feelings about that.

She bowed her head lower at his threat, waiting for him to follow it with a sample of what she would suffer if she even tried. But despite the curled lip, he didn’t bite at her. “I understand My Lo- Sir Oleander.” she said, keeping her eyes on the floor. So she would not be given back to her last owners. What could she do with this information? “If I may ask, Sir. What jobs will I be doing in the Armada?” what would she be fetching, who would she be fucking? Would this place be better or worse than her last?

"Speech"