Gabrielle's Diary 29 (2/27/02)
Slings and Arrows
I woke up in a cell. A comfortable cell, mind you, with a soft pallet and even a small washroom, but a cell nonetheless. And sometime while I'd been unconscious, someone had undone my clothing. I'd dressed in full formal kimono for the attempt to trump Corwin, so undoing my clothing was quite an undertaking. There was the outer kimono, white silk figured with blue cranes, and the obi in pink and gold; beneath it was the underkimono, also in gold silk; beneath that was the padding, then the inner robe over the fundoshi and breast bindings.
The high neck and long, draping sleeves of formal kimono were ideal for concealing bruises and teeth marks; but the main reason I'd chosen to wear kimono was that it was the most attractive garment I knew of that totally concealed a woman's body. The padding is designed to create a more or less uniformly cylindrical shape from top to bottom, and the kimono is long enough to cover ankles. And we mustn't forget how convenient it is to hide shaking hands inside those voluminous sleeves. To wear kimono constrains movement, I admit, but it feels.... safe.
Well. Whoever had removed my clothing had replaced it inexpertly. The breast bindings had been refastened by someone with an understanding of the physics of the moderately well-endowed, at least, but the layers weren't wrapped correctly, the padding wasn't lying correctly, and the attempt at retying the obi knot was laughable.
There was a plasma ball of fury and shame in my stomach. Once again, I'd had my clothing removed against my will, laying open my skin to someone else's view. I don't have excessive body modesty, but there is all the difference in the world between choosing to reveal and being stripped. I'm not ashamed of...
Rather, I wasn't ashamed of my body. It was a beautiful body; I was perhaps a bit vain about it, one could say. And I didn't have any ridiculous notion that it was wrong or immoral to show off my body, to reveal it as I chose for my pleasure and the pleasure of others.
But I hadn't chosen. Again. Someone else had decided they wanted to look at my body, the core of myself, and they hadn't cared if I gave permission. Again. And they'd seen... They'd have seen the marks that Prentice left, his statement of his ownership and strength written on my body in blood-red and mottled purple. They knew my weakness. They knew my shame. They knew I was vulnerable, and how could I know what they would do, egged on by that knowledge?
At least they'd left me a carafe of water and some Tylenol.
It was some time before anyone came to speak to me, which gave me time to compose myself. I wasn't entirely surprised to see Nicola Hila walk in the door. She'd been Merlin's escort to the formal party Careri held in our honor. Before Darian's party, I'd asked Milcah if Nicola and Merlin were an item, and she reassured me they weren't. She'd told me that Nicola's mother was someone from Sawall, though -- very interesting.
Nicola was polite, but asked very firmly if either of my companions had been responsibly for my 'injuries.' I simply said 'No.' It was none of her concern who had... None of her concern.
It was polite of her to ask before she brought Elayne into my room. It was also polite to have exclusively female guards. I can't quite bring myself to be grateful, though. Not when I suspect the motive is to maintain me in proper condition to marry Rufus - and to avoid my active enmity once the wedding has occurred.
The very large man with the wolf emblem is apparently named Phelan, and he is Nicola's brother and my cousin. She took some care not to specify if she herself was also my cousin -- which makes it likely that she is. Who is she? When I think of women from Sawall, the obvious candidate is Dara. Whoever she is, she was important enough that Merlin took her to the ball -- and a remote cousin from House Hila wouldn't have that kind of importance, would she? Not given what Merlin seems to be planning, and the key role I and my friends seem to play in it.
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