I know, I know. This one took a long time to post. But I had a small case of writer's block, along with something called 'college-level homework' (insert horrified screams). Again, I'm sorry that it took so long to get this one up. I'll try to be a little faster on the next ones.
*For those who don't know, 'rhypophobia' is the fear of dirt. I'm sorry, but I like to find the actual word for phobias that I use. If you see a word you don't know, I'll be glad to tell you what it means.
* * *
"Wake up, Kara!" Her mother's voice grated against her sleep-clogged mind like nails on a chalkboard. "Honestly, you sleep more than a grizzly bear in hibernation."
Me curled up in a cave for four months. Oh, that's a wonderful image.
Groaning, she crawled out of the blankest that enveloped her, finally reaching the surface. She breathed in the warmth of the underworld, a faint small of rust lingering in the air. The sickening scent of sulfur burned her nostrils a second later, jolting her wide awake.
Ah, the smell of fire and brimstone. Make sure you get your daily dose of sulfur before breakfast.
She sat up in bed, stretching her arms up above her head. Her vertebrae popped back into place, making her feel invigorated. She rolled her neck as well, secretly loving the disgusted look on her mother's face when the bones cracked. Yawning, she flipped the blankets back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She looked over her shoulder, her face contorting into a frown. The bed was empty. She looked back at her mother with confused eyes.
"Where's Ladrian?"
Her mother rummaged through a newly added dresser, searching for suitable clothing. The first
real
clothing she will have worn in days. The solid oak drawers had ornate filigree carved around the edges, while the distorted faced of demons smiled up at her from the brass handles.
"He left hours ago. You're supposed to pick your next suitor in an hour."
Disappointed that he hadn't stayed longer, she sighed and slipped out of bed. She felt exhausted with this whole process. It was like then Energizer Bunny of courtships. It kept going and going and going. She stretched again, trying to shake the sleep from her mind.
"Don't worry about Ladrian. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you again." Her mother's voice had a smile in it.
Something about that made her gut tighten, her body's attempt to express its concern. Somehow, her gut always seemed to know two things before anyone else: When something was wrong and when she had eaten too many tacos. In this particular situation, her gut wasn't telling her to lay off the Mexican food. It was warning her of something slightly worse.
"Can I at least bathe first? I small like a steel factory." The faint smell of iron from Ladrian's shackles still clung to her skin.
"Absolutely. Go take a shower. Your clothes will be here when you get back." Her mother was still picking out clothes for her. As much as it made her feel like a child, Kara admitted to herself that her mother choosing her clothing took a small load off her shoulders.
She nodded. Turning silently, she walked through another door on the opposite wall of her room's main entrance. She twisted the ornate doorknob --as ornate as a snarling demon head could get- and opened the door. She pushed it closed with her fingers, mesmerized by the gorgeous shower in front of her.
The magnificent structure stood in the middle of a black tiled room lit from small glass inlays in the ceiling that let in true sunlight. Four tall glass walls, ten feel tall and six feet wide, each lined with gold and engraved with a different design depicting one of the main elements of the world, were welded together to form a beautiful translucent box. A series of small holes, lined up directly above the glass enclosure, had been drilled into the ceiling.
Sweet!
She stepped up to admire the beautiful engraving on the glass. Running her finger along the smooth edges, she traced the images that depicted the element of fire. She heard a slight rumbling sound and backed up a step out of caution. The glass panels rattled for a moment, the shifted apart from one another, sliding along the smooth tile floor. Each panel moved backwards a few feet, creating a generous amount of room for her to step through.
Stepping forward tentatively, she walked through the space between the panels. When she got to the center above the room, standing under the holes in the ceiling, the glass panels slid along the floor again. They returned to their original positions, locking into one another until, the cube was formed again.
Holy shit! Eat your heart out, Paris Hilton. Even you don't have this!
Water began to pour from the holes in the ceiling, perfectly heated for her tired skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of warm water raining down on her. Her worries and fears about the courtships seemed to be washed away with the water. She looked down and saw that there was no drain. Instead, the tiles soaked up the water instantly, leaving the floor almost completely dry.
Looking around her small enclosure, she saw there was no shampoo or soap. Annoyance flared inside her. Warm water was nice, but her rhypophobic side always came to the forefront when it came to bathing. She hated being dirty. If there was no way to clean herself in the shower, then it was going to be a bad day.
And how am I supposed to take a shower without soap?!
Without warming, the texture of the water changed. No longer clear and slick, the liquid pouring from the ceiling had taken on a thicker, more viscous texture. It looked cloudy now, and had the slight smell of vanilla. Apparently, shampoo is added to the water itself when showering in Hell.
Taken aback for a moment, she relaxed and began to lather her hair, grateful that she had something to clean the grime away. Within minutes her hair was a massive ball of bubbles. On a hunch, she called out for water. The liquid changed back to being clear and scentless. She smiled as she rinsed. She could imagine enjoying this.
Curious, she crouched down and inspected the floor. It mesmerized her the way it seemed to absorb the water, leaving no trace behind. She could feel the warmth of it on her skin, but not a single drop showed on the black tile.
This is the coolest thing EVER!
Her though halted when a drop of still-soapy water dripped into her eye.
She stood up, grimacing through the discomfort as she rubbing away the soap. Backing up a step, she bumped into something sturdy. Startled, she whipped around, covering her chest with her arms and backing up against a glass panel. Lyzander stood before her in the pouring water, his white-blue eyes piecing into hers. His short hair, the color of warm chestnut, was plastered to his face, soaked with the hot water. The navy blue designs that snaked across his golden skin seemed to glow in the soft light.
