In an incredible feat of creative genius (well, not quite, but that's what I'm calling it) I've managed to write another little chunk. Woo.
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Six
The baths attendant was a very old female mudokon who went by the name of May. The females of any species, particularly the “normal looking” sterile ones, were hugely rare in natural situations, but every now and then one turned up, and Management considered them to be akin to gold dust. This elderly lady had seen a lot, Yaaren knew, a lot of things she’d have never have wanted to see through choice, but she was still apparently as well-balanced and gentle as she’d ever been.
She greeted him with a sad smile, and patted his arm. “I got your bath ready,” she said, pushing a bundle of incongruously fluffy white laundry into his hands. “I saw you in the ring, and guessed you’d want it.”
He managed a smile, although it was more of a bared-teeth snarl at this stage. “Thank you,” he chewed the civility out through gritted teeth; he might be in a foul mood but there was no point in taking it out on the poor creature, she had nothing to do with it and he ought to thank her for the bath, somehow…
“They changed your stimulant again?” she asked, unlocking the door – she’d learned to recognise the signs of sudden unannounced changes, by now, usually by a dramatic souring of a normally pretty sweet temper, for a fighter.
“Yes,” he gritted the words out. “This one didn’t help me fight, just made me antsy. And I nearly killed Arrun because of it, the cheeky bugger.”
A chuckle. “Well, sometimes he deserves it,” she acknowledged, wryly, stepping aside to let him past. “I wondered why he came in looking so battered, earlier…”
Yaaren just grunted.
“Well, enjoy your bath, dear,” she knew when not to push his temper. “I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed…” She pulled the door closed, its hinges giving a soft creak of protest at their long-term lack of oiling.
Yaaren plonked his bundle of laundry down on the little stone table inside the door, and stretched his shoulders, irritatedly scratched his neck where grime was making it itch, and surveyed the little room. This was “his” bathroom, for all useful purposes; not even Yax used it, but then Yax wasn’t the bathing sort, he usually just wandered round dirty – said it made him look more intimidating – in comparison to the rest of his brethren who by far preferred to be clean even if their morals were usually rather lacking. One of his few perks for being so-called “Head Gladiator”, he didn’t have to fight the others for bathing rights.
This bathroom was a pretty austere affair, compared to the opulent luxury of the hotel suites in the upper floors of the West Wing, but it was luxurious in comparison with the amenities back in the Pit. The bath itself was set down into the floor; long and wide, a shallow set of steps leading into it, it would probably be comfortable for around three individuals to use at the same time. Heating elements were set into the stone surrounding it, although they were switched off now –an added safety feature ensured they both couldn’t be used to heat the water to anything other than tolerable, and also couldn’t be switched on when there was someone in the bath. He recalled in some distant portion of his mind one Junior Executive had been murdered rather nastily in his bath (“boiled alive like a shellfish”, reports said), prompting the changes.
Curls of steam wisped up off the crystal surface into the still-cool air, the heaters not yet having taken all the comparative chill from it; the water certainly looked inviting… He found that, in spite of all his ‘histrionics’, the potential for getting cleaned up and feeling better was rather appealing. He stripped off his armour and underclothes, wincing as his overtaxed muscles complained, and stepped into the water; the heat prompted a tight hiss, but it was just a bit hot, that was all, a bit hot, it’d cool down… And it was preferential to that horrible antsy feeling any day.
He sighed and sank down under the water, stretching out his legs and toes, tipping his head back against the cool porcelain; the heat distracted his mind and took some of the unbearable unscratchable itchiness away. May had dosed the waters with her own blend of oils and mineral salts, as well; he could smell the faint metallic tang in the air. He forced himself to relax as best he could, and let May’s concoction do its work; it’d help sweat some of the drugs out of his skin, and relax out some of the knots in his muscles…
Aura had just finished her own bathing when the door creaked; she froze, halfway across the floor towards her bunk, and watched it swing inwards. Her visitor was someone she’d never seen in the flesh before, and yet she knew who he was and what he was capable of mainly from his photographs – usually on dramatic adverts in the newspapers. ‘Nexus’, the head Gladiator, vicious and brutal, fully capable of atrocious acts of cruelty worse than she thought she could even dream up…
While the creature in her doorway looked at least superficially like this ‘Nexus’, however, it was almost like this was a twin. His feathers were slick and wet – apparently on his way back from the baths – and he was swathed in towelling, looking surprisingly non-aggressive. Surely couldn’t be the same one… and yet she thought it highly unlikely there’d be two hybrids looking like the posters. And where there was no white fabric, she could see old scars decorating his slim legs, the two barbs adorning the tip of his long tail, the surgical steel claws on his feet… And there was a telltale flash of a pale green scar across the skin surrounding his left eye.
What did he want? Surely he wasn’t here to… no, no, she’d already been visited, although it was only a quick stop tonight, and the two lads were surprisingly gentle with her, for once. And she was sure they’d said he wasn’t interested in females? Possibly a malicious rumour, but it seemed to fit with why she’d never seen him… She crawled backward and under the bed, a soft whine in her throat.
“It’s all right,” he said, softly, leaning against the door and tipping his head back, touching the back of his skull to the cool metal. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want someone to talk to for a while, if that’s all right with you.”
“Talk?” came the question from beneath the bed, a soft querulous whine.
“Yeah. To save me from killing anyone.”
“Oh…”
He caught the increase in fright in her voice, and realised it had probably not been the best thing to say. “That is,” he hastily clarified, “to save me from killing Arrun. Or any other similarly cheeky bastards who want to try their luck.”
“Oh,” she didn’t sound particularly satisfied by the answer, and repeated “oh” just as though it’d somehow make everything better in her mind, which it didn’t. “You’re, ah, that is… you’re Nexus, right?” she asked, frustrated by how her voice had turned into a frightened squeak but unable to persuade it to do anything else.
“Yes, that’s right,” he confirmed, opening his eyes and starting at the ceiling. “I prefer ‘Yaaren’, though. Nexus is just a stage-name, and… well, I’d rather not be reminded about my job in every waking moment.”
He still hadn’t moved from the door, yet, Aura noticed – she could just see his feet, where the valance didn’t quite meet the floor. She’d noticed that he was a lot softer spoken than most of the staff, and his accent (what he had of one) wasn’t as harsh; if you ignored the “colourful adjectives,” he sounded more like the muds back home – which in some obscure way reassured her.
“I’m guessing you’re Aurora,” he commented, settling down on the floor, and leaning back against the bed. “At least, that’s what I can make out of the sign on the door. Someone needs to teach the guards to write better.”
“Uh, yeah,” by some supreme effort she managed to get her squeaking voice under control, although it still strangled a little in the back of the throat. “Most just use ‘Aura’, though. When they’re not calling me other names.” Daringly, she poked her nose out from under the valance to watch him; she kept herself up the far end by the wall, but it was a start.
“So, um…” she decided she’d better get it into the open now rather than later. “Why haven’t I ever seen you here before?”
He smiled tightly down at her. “Rape isn’t part of my agenda,” he replied, solemnly. “Yes, there’s a lot of rumours about me flying around, but most if not all of them aren’t true. The other lads have probably all took great delight in telling you I didn’t like females.”
She nodded, tightly. “Well, not in so many words, but that was the general feeling…”
He rolled his eyes and nodded. “As you’ve probably guessed by now I don’t have a lot of fans among the rest of the Gladiatorial staff,” he said, dryly.
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