[ She's lost count of the days she's been part of the Mors King's hoard. She'd tried to keep count of them in her head but as the days had ticked past, her grasp on how much time had gone by had become looser and looser until she simply realized one day that she simply had no idea and gave up in disgust. She's starting to feel like just as permanent a fixture of the castle as the Mors themselves and whatever complicated feeling that stirs in her chest, she doesn't want to examine.
Her days haven't changed all that much. She eats, she cleans, she picks her way through the unnervingly well-preserved library just for something to do. Most days, she feels bored rather than anxious. Sometimes, she and the Mors King talk and while she would never be so stupid as to say they get along, a strange understanding seems to have settled between them that feels almost like a ceasefire agreement.
And yet, at the end of every day, her duties haven't changed - the Mors King still has her sleep in his chambers and he still spends as long as he likes exploring her body with his hands. He still hasn't gone any further and she can't make any sense of it - but the more time passes the more she wonders if the Mors King, too, no idea of what he means to do with her.
She still hasn't breathed a word about the portrait she found, after all. ]
... is there really nothing you can do to warm things in here?
[ She asks that all too calmly as she climbs onto the bed, clad as usual in nothing but one of the thin shifts she's always reduced to whenever he's had her undress for the evening. There are goosebumps up and down her arms but her shivers during these minutes before bed have long since stopped being to do with anything but the cold. ]
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Her days haven't changed all that much. She eats, she cleans, she picks her way through the unnervingly well-preserved library just for something to do. Most days, she feels bored rather than anxious. Sometimes, she and the Mors King talk and while she would never be so stupid as to say they get along, a strange understanding seems to have settled between them that feels almost like a ceasefire agreement.
And yet, at the end of every day, her duties haven't changed - the Mors King still has her sleep in his chambers and he still spends as long as he likes exploring her body with his hands. He still hasn't gone any further and she can't make any sense of it - but the more time passes the more she wonders if the Mors King, too, no idea of what he means to do with her.
She still hasn't breathed a word about the portrait she found, after all. ]
... is there really nothing you can do to warm things in here?
[ She asks that all too calmly as she climbs onto the bed, clad as usual in nothing but one of the thin shifts she's always reduced to whenever he's had her undress for the evening. There are goosebumps up and down her arms but her shivers during these minutes before bed have long since stopped being to do with anything but the cold. ]