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Castti felt a deep weariness down to her very bones. Now that the contamination in the water source was dealt with, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy a warm bath and sleep in a comfortable bed.
She stepped into the bath and smiled as she saw that the tub was already filled with warm water and coated with a sweet fragrance. A full-length mirror stood in the corner, a surprisingly luxurious sight. On the ship that had rescued her, there had only been small hand mirrors, so she hadn't gotten a good look at herself. She bit her lip; that she'd forget even how she looked.
Carefully she pressed her hand to the mirror. Strands of blonde hair had gotten loose from her bun, and she wasn't surprised at the dark circles beneath her eyes. Castti Florenz. She only knew her name because her past self had the foresight to stitch it into her clothing - assuming, of course, that she was not wearing the clothing of another.
She shook her head; she didn't want to consider that possibility. That notebook had to be hers. It had to offer some clues to her past.
With a sigh she began to peel off her clothing; it wouldn't do to let the water get cold. She caught glimpses of bruising - perhaps she'd been injured before being put into that skiff. But she hadn't awoken with any pain in her head, which she hoped ruled out head trauma. Just to be sure, however, she touched her head again, but felt nothing out of the ordinary.
As she finished removing the rest of her clothing, she lifted her head to her reflection, and nearly screamed. Extensive, grotesque black bruising covered her shoulders and upper arms, where her clothing had covered, and along the edges of the bruising were splotches of an ugly, almost venomous-looking violet. Hesitantly she turned her back to the mirror and craned her neck, and saw more of that deep, fathomless black over her shoulder-blades. She ran her fingers over the black on her arm; it was coarse and uneven, much like a burn scar, but it didn't hurt. Yet a stench like rotting blood filled her nose, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
What happened to her?
Her breathing grew heavy, and her body trembled. This was her body, wasn't it? Scarred and traumatized, and she remembered nothing. How much had these wounds hurt? Had she screamed? What - who - had done this to her? Who had treated her? Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. What illness or poison could cause such hideous, grotesque scarring? If she truly was a plague-monger, had she done this to herself?
"Castti."
Malaya's voice, both familiar and unfamiliar, filled Castti's ears. But she couldn't be in the bath with Castti like this. Perhaps it was only a delusion. Castti could allow herself this brief distraction, of the one woman who hadn't feared her.
"You're still beautiful, you know." Malaya would be gentle as she laid her hands on Castti's scarred shoulders, and her touch was achingly familiar. "Your scars are proof you survived."
Castti shut her eyes a moment. She barely knew Malaya as she was now. But perhaps they had met in the past, and the hollow feeling in Castti's chest ached more strongly than ever. "Please, Malaya," she said softly.
Malaya's chuckle was just as quiet. If Castti opened her eyes, she would see only her own reflection, and Malaya would no longer be standing behind her. She didn't want to break this illusion just yet.
A fantasy - that was all this was. But without memories, it was all that she could hold onto.
Castti's breath hitched as Malaya planted a careful kiss on her scarred shoulder. With it so badly burnt, maybe she wouldn't be able to feel much of heat or cold, but so easily she could imagine Malaya's warmth as her fingers caressed her ugly scars. A scent of burning flesh filled her nose, a flash of purple rain, but she quickly pushed it away. She couldn't remember, not yet.
Malaya's hands slid lower, over unscarred skin, and her hands were much like Castti's own, and vaguely she remembered a scent like snowdrop blossoms. If Malaya pressed her chest to Castti's back, perhaps Castti would feel her heartbeat. Perhaps it would even feel familiar. Malaya's lips were gentle against the side of Castti's neck, and familiar hands played with her breasts.
(What would Malaya think if she knew Castti was fantasizing about her in such a manner? Even without memories, her imagination was quite powerful, Castti thought grimly.)
While one hand teased Castti's breast and pinched a pert nipple, her other hand slid lower, over her belly and toward the crux of her thighs. Her breathing grew rough, heat gathering deep within her. The warmth of Malaya's body washed over her, desperately familiar. She wanted - needed - more. What her mind had forgotten, her body remembered only vaguely.
Her hand found its way between her legs, and she gasped sharply. She knew this pleasure, and not simply abstractly. Malaya murmured softly against her scars, unafraid of them. She slid a finger inside, her clit aching for more. She knew these motions, and wondered what expression Malaya would make if she returned this pleasure in kind. But if she opened her eyes, her reflection would reveal nothing.
"You are strong, Castti," Malaya said, her voice husky and faraway. "You must live, and save all those only you can."
Castti's hands remembered, remembered the weight of life, both strong and fragile. She pressed a finger more against her clit, and her legs quivered with anticipation. Pleasure was a part of life too, and so easily could she picture Malaya's smile, and imagined both her body and soul laid bare.
She came soon, too soon, and pleasure spread throughout her very being, pleasure that her body remembered but her mind could not. Perhaps Malaya would wrap her arms around Castti's shoulders from behind, and Castti turned her head to meet Malaya's lips for a kiss. A memory brushed against her own lips, and again tears gathered in her eyes.
When she opened her eyes, Malaya was gone, and only the reflection of her unknown scarring greeted her.
The water was still warm when Castti got into the tub, and much to her relief, her scarred skin could still feel some measure of heat. She let out a deep sigh as she leaned her head back and let her body sink into the water to her shoulders. Remnants of pleasure still lingered over her body.
Malaya. Eir's Apothecaries. Sai and Winterbloom. Her memory was a void, but somewhere in that darkness was a faint light. She touched the scarring on her shoulder, and shivered despite the gentle warmth of the bathwater.
