Honeymoon.
Jun. 22nd, 2011 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
museworks((Warning for possibly triggering, though not explicit, content under LJ-cut.))
The first time I saw Jovan after he brought me to his home-- it was never our home, it was his-- was when I woke up and saw a pair of glowing green eyes in the darkness above me. I was so used to the dark at that point that they were virtually blinding; I couldn't see anything else, even when I looked away I saw the after-image of his eyes. Almost funny that of everything he did, that's what chills me the most in nightmares-- the after-image of his eyes in the darkness. Perhaps because I still feel like I see it after I wake.
It's fortunate, I suppose, that I don't really remember the pain. I remember that it hurt, but I don't remember the way it felt so much. Perhaps it was my mental state at that point, even after what was likely a shorter span of time. I think my week estimate is about right. All I remember is the glowing of his eyes when he stood over me and then was on me. I remember the weight of his body, the soreness and stickiness after, wondering if that was what a 'wedding night' (even if it had been a while since my wedding) was like in reality versus what books and gossips say, and that finally, once he was gone, I was given some light. Doors were unlocked.
Not the main door, of course, the one that would let me wander the house proper-- just the other doors attached to my room. I did have a set of chambers after all, and there were even windows. Bespelled windows, mind you, that I couldn't break even with a chair. And they let the light in but I couldn't see out. But they were windows. I had access to a washroom, a luxurious one at that with a range of soaps and scrubs and cosmetics and perfumes, and one of the first things I did was draw a bath.
I think the relative comfort of the washroom was just another aspect of the psychological wearing-down and control. I was confused, that was for certain; was that previous week of darkness just in my mind? Was it all a long nightmare? The scent of my own body before the bath spoke otherwise, but I was still in a state of confusion, and I confess, fright. I don't know how long I stayed in the bath; when the water turned tepid I drew another hot bath, with more sweetly-scented bubbles. I think I was half-afraid that once I left, the door would be locked to me again.
When I finally did make myself emerge from the washroom, I found that servants had again visited my room while I was away. There was now a small table with a chair, on which rested a meal in a covered dish. There were books, there were even paints and parchment. The bed linens had been changed, the bloodied ones replaced with fresh. My clothing-- what little there was-- was gone, but it had not been replaced. The wardrobe was still empty. I later understood why, but at that point in time I simply did not understand. I knew my clothing had been moved to this house, but it was kept from me. Was it being washed for some reason? (I had brought it clean…) Or was I to just…not have it, not even undergarments? What was I to do when my monthly courses came, then?
Funny how the mind works sometimes. I imagine it was a sort of defense mechanism, but I know I was trying to forget that week of darkness, the visit he finally made to me, the unexplained changes in my environment, and the reasoning behind all of it. Worrying about biological matters was something on which I could focus because it, at least, I understood. It would be another week before I saw Jovan again, and this time I knew for sure it was a week; I was not left in darkness, even if I was still a prisoner.
The first time I saw Jovan after he brought me to his home-- it was never our home, it was his-- was when I woke up and saw a pair of glowing green eyes in the darkness above me. I was so used to the dark at that point that they were virtually blinding; I couldn't see anything else, even when I looked away I saw the after-image of his eyes. Almost funny that of everything he did, that's what chills me the most in nightmares-- the after-image of his eyes in the darkness. Perhaps because I still feel like I see it after I wake.
It's fortunate, I suppose, that I don't really remember the pain. I remember that it hurt, but I don't remember the way it felt so much. Perhaps it was my mental state at that point, even after what was likely a shorter span of time. I think my week estimate is about right. All I remember is the glowing of his eyes when he stood over me and then was on me. I remember the weight of his body, the soreness and stickiness after, wondering if that was what a 'wedding night' (even if it had been a while since my wedding) was like in reality versus what books and gossips say, and that finally, once he was gone, I was given some light. Doors were unlocked.
Not the main door, of course, the one that would let me wander the house proper-- just the other doors attached to my room. I did have a set of chambers after all, and there were even windows. Bespelled windows, mind you, that I couldn't break even with a chair. And they let the light in but I couldn't see out. But they were windows. I had access to a washroom, a luxurious one at that with a range of soaps and scrubs and cosmetics and perfumes, and one of the first things I did was draw a bath.
I think the relative comfort of the washroom was just another aspect of the psychological wearing-down and control. I was confused, that was for certain; was that previous week of darkness just in my mind? Was it all a long nightmare? The scent of my own body before the bath spoke otherwise, but I was still in a state of confusion, and I confess, fright. I don't know how long I stayed in the bath; when the water turned tepid I drew another hot bath, with more sweetly-scented bubbles. I think I was half-afraid that once I left, the door would be locked to me again.
When I finally did make myself emerge from the washroom, I found that servants had again visited my room while I was away. There was now a small table with a chair, on which rested a meal in a covered dish. There were books, there were even paints and parchment. The bed linens had been changed, the bloodied ones replaced with fresh. My clothing-- what little there was-- was gone, but it had not been replaced. The wardrobe was still empty. I later understood why, but at that point in time I simply did not understand. I knew my clothing had been moved to this house, but it was kept from me. Was it being washed for some reason? (I had brought it clean…) Or was I to just…not have it, not even undergarments? What was I to do when my monthly courses came, then?
Funny how the mind works sometimes. I imagine it was a sort of defense mechanism, but I know I was trying to forget that week of darkness, the visit he finally made to me, the unexplained changes in my environment, and the reasoning behind all of it. Worrying about biological matters was something on which I could focus because it, at least, I understood. It would be another week before I saw Jovan again, and this time I knew for sure it was a week; I was not left in darkness, even if I was still a prisoner.
