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Pride and Larceny

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"The Royals aren't necessarily fans of mine." Iridia answered with a cheesy smile, hoping it would ease her worry. "But it's fine, you don't have any reason to fret."

     The sprite moved to sit behind the mechanic, slowly untying the bloodied sash from around her body, exposing her cuts and wounds from just the night before. With a shaky sigh, Iridia took in the sight, feeling her heart drop, a sickness overcoming her entire self. This was guilt, and she wasn't used to such a feeling. The small girl took the cream-colored garb and placed it in the water, Rashvana's blood immediately reddening the water. The thief cursed softly as she reached with shaky hands to pull away the mechanic's shirt from the lacerations around her damaged wing. With eyebrows furrowed with concentration and distraught, Iridia took the sash soaked with water into her hands, wringing it out into the bowl and placing the chilled cloth against the mechanic's back.

"S-Sorry!" Iridia immediately said as the fae in front of her tensed and seethed with pain.

     The small girl continued murmuring soft apologies as she gently wiped away the dried up blood away from the slices in the girl's pale skin. Pulling it away to soak back into the bowl, chilled water running down Rashvana's back as it was beginning to look a lot cleaner and fresh. Iridia was mostly quiet, no jokes or teasing remarks despite having the winter fae's bareback in front of her. The crease of her spine down the middle of her back, between her wings, the soft skin between her shoulders she wanted to kiss. With another sigh, Iridia finished cleaning away all the old blood from the previous night's tragedy, placing the soaking sash back into the bowl before reaching for the bandages and a little glass vial she had managed to steal for Rashvana. 

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It wasn’t hard to think of a few reasons why the Royal Fae weren’t fond of the Thief, her title said it all. She felt her shirt fall loose, and she simply slid the ruined fabric from her arms, and dropped it aside. She used the cloak to cover her front, her torso now only clad with a crudely made brassiere. She attempted to make her own clothes once, it didn’t go well for her. She was going to buy a proper one from the seamstress she knew a few trees down, but that was going to have to wait now. The cold water felt amazing on her skin, and she shivered as the heat was leeched from her skin. She hung her hair over her face, so that the tense fae couldn’t see her pain as scans were jostled loose, some new blood dripping down her back with the water, though not as plentiful as before. A good sign. She expected the fae to joke, to relieve tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog, but she did not. 

“Are you alright?” Rashvana asked, turning her head to look at her companion. Her mismatched eyes looked sad, and she didn’t understand why. Or perhaps she did understand, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She watched as the fae reached for the bandages, and she sighed softly. “Tell me what ails you Iridia. Are you okay?” She probably felt guilty, but she wouldn’t let her. This was no fault of hers. That belonged to Vox and her merry gang of toned thugs. Savages the lot of them. 

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