Jenny Thrannythkan

"Oh, um... Jenny. Jenny Thrannythkan." The answer was a simple one. It's a common name. It's the common name. When a woman wants to start a new life, to flee or forget her past, there's a good chance that that is the name she might pick. You've known a couple dozen in your time, and about half of them you'd payed for the pleasure of cumming inside. I don't really want to be thinking about that right now.

"That's a lovely name!" Laura beams, {if Laura_Knows_Truth == true}seemingly thrilled by your choice of name. {else}you can't help but wonder if she understands the implication of the name in the more developed parts of the empire.{endif} "Now, I'll be goin'. But feel free to stretch your legs: we don't want them wastin' away any more now, do we? There's a dress and an undershift in that there wardrobe. Hope they fit alright, there ain't exactly anyone in the town as waifish as you. Had to make my best guess at the seamstress'. See you in a jiffy!"

And with a quick wave she was gone. And silence descended on the room. Fuck...What have you gotten yourself into this time now...Jenny...I'd better get used to that... The way you see it, you have two choices. The first is to wallow in self pitty and pray that the magic undoes itself. The second is to get up, assess the damage, and make steps to recover some agency in your life.

One of those options seems more meaningful than the other, and thus you resolve to get the fuck up. You look down at the large, pillowy duvet covering your form. Crisp, yet soft, white linin envelops a downy interior. You haven't felt anything this soft in almost a decade of patronage of dockside brothels. It's not even worth entertaining the comparison to the hammocks you've been bunking in since you were a small boy. There's no way that can be the norm in somewhere as out of the way as this. Laura really must have put me in the best room. I must remember to thank her for that.

It feels a shame to leave such oppulent comfort, but you need to garner some momentum. And so, with a great exertion of will, you bear yourself to the elements. The first thing that hits you, again, was that that was a lot more difficult than it should have been. It was just a duvet, but it felt like an iron training weight to your reduced frame. I'm going to have to be careful, I could very easily hurt myself if I'm not focusing. And I'm fairly sure I'm not going to have any chance if some stranger decides to pick a fight with me. The second revalation was that you really did just bear yourself. You were naked under those covers and the contrast of the sudden exposure chills you to your core, goosebumps spattering your faultless flesh.

Driven by the cold, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and lightly spring onto your feet. Only to wince as pain lances through your soles. As your arse hits the bed again, you look down to see your feet are bound in bandages.

Right. The blisters.

Gingerly this time, you try again. First your left foot, then the right. Each time gently lowering first the ball of your foot and then, when the pain dissipates, angling your heel to join it. The pain wasn't so bad this time round. Must have been more the shock than anything else. And after a couple of seconds of acclimatisation, you slowly lever yourself back up to standing. You take a couple of deliberate steps forward, towards the door, and the ache in your feet dies down to an almost imperceptable background level. Given the trauma you put them through, you surmise that the biomancy must be contributing to their recovery. With pain receding and confidence returning, you softly stalk to the large mirror on the side of the room.