*For you, D.*
A small parchment note was placed on top of a neatly folded white blouse on Muriel’s dresser. It bore the Soleion stamp. She tumbled out of her bed, the morning rays peeking through the window to grace her unclothed body. The previous night came into her mental view.
Elliott Soleion, that fucking bastard.
She stood in front of her mirror, examining her entire body. Her snowy white skin was littered with purple marks and peppered with faded pink ones. She faced her back to the mirror and pivoted her waist to see the damage done to her posterior. The hand-shaped welts had mostly faded, and the broken skin was already healed.
“I should challenge him to a sword fight when this week is over.” She proclaimed to her reflection. She paced around for a few moments, deep in thought about the ongoing deal they had. Eventually she gripped the sides of her mirror, violently shaking it as she stared down her ashamed reflection. She looked absolutely primal. Hair matted with blades of grass and twigs in it, body bruised and scratched, eyes full of rage – where was her dignity? Somewhere parading around with Elliott, she assumed. That pompous dick.