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Isabelle stomped her way down and in to the spa, following an Edgar who was intent on ignoring her outburst. Without a word, Edgar moved toward the showers to one side, breezing past the concierge desk and skipping the towels, to stand before one of the stalls. Isabelle stood close behind, giving him a cold, hard stare.

"Go hop in the shower. I'll hang a towel on the hook in your stall and leave a slick for you."

Isabelle made no protests. There was not a word she could utter; Edgar had cut her off halfway to the spa, commanding her to silence, putting the collar to work. Without a word, she walked past the sinks and into the first shower stall. She turned on the water, and memories rose to the surface. This wasn't much different from before either, walking into the showers to bathe and not having to disrobe first. Ceres kept her on a tight leash, always nude, always ready for Ceres' playmates to tease, suck, and fondle her pet. None of this aroused Isabelle, but her desire to please her master had been so great, there was little she wouldn't have allowed.

She stepped into the shower, and as the temperature rose, Isabelle imagined the water washing away the expectations once placed upon her, sending them spinning down the drain along with all the dust and grime. The days of being her handler's plaything were over. Ceres was in all likelihood gone, and though Isabelle was still wearing the collar, she was filled with a desire to grow away from who she once was. She thought about the manor now, the missing members of the coven, the rift, the running. Who she was then was no longer relevant.

Edgar returned to the concierge, retrieved two towels, and moved into the shower area. He paused next to Isabelle's stall and placed a slick on the small bench, hanging a towel on the hook above it. He then stepped into the stall next to hers and began running the water.

It had been mere hours since he had awakened. Mere hours since he had dressed himself, fed, and discovered the Manor in its state of disarray. Mere hours since having set Isabelle free, questioning her, learning very little as to the state of affairs of the coven resulting in the chaos on the ground floor. Mere hours, and already he felt he had been awake a lifetime. Despite this, he had accomplished so little. As the water poured over him, he hoped the days that followed would bring him answers and not more questions.

Isabelle turned off the water, grabbed hold of the towel, and took her time drying herself off. Her anger and bitterness had subsided somewhat in the shower, as if the water had washed some of that away as well. What little hair remained on her head was coming out in clumps; while this mildly bothered her, she did not know if it was cause for concern. No longer upset with Edgar, she decided to ask him about it at a later time. She rolled up the discarded hair into a ball and set it next to the slick on the bench outside the shower.

Isabelle slipped into the slick with some ease. The garment seemed to hug in on her as it settled. The material felt comfortable, almost lush, against her skin. She moved her hands overhead. She spun around. She folded over. The slick moved with her, offering no resistance. She thought of Edgar's comments about finding clothing she preferred and wondered why anyone would want to wear anything else but this.

"I think if I have a whole chest of these to myself, I will be quite. all. right."

She was surprised to find she could speak aloud. She looked up to find Edgar standing just outside of the shower stall, having stopped mid-stride at her comment. He also was wrapped up in his slick, his filthy clothing nowhere to be seen.

"The slicks are very comfortable, and you are welcome to live in them if you so choose," he said. "Many members of the coven chose to, especially those who did business regularly outside [[The Manor]]." He tilted his head in the direction of the entrance. "Venga."

Continued after the break

Edgar led them back to the armory. They passed through the janitor's closet and approached the chests along the back wall. He unlocked and opened one chest to procure a set of gloves and a helmet for each of them, which he placed on the floor nearby. He then walked Isabelle over to the two chests at the farthest end of the wall, opening each. Inside were rows upon rows of thin packages with large numerals in bold print. He lifted one and opened it, revealing a pair of tall black boots, folded upon themselves to conserve space.

"Find your size," he said, returning the boots to their package and stacking two more over it.

Isabelle scanned the numerals. Finding her size, she lifted the package out of the chest and grabbed the two next to it. She turned her attention to Edgar who had taken a seat on the floor and was in the process of unlacing and opening up the boots enough to put them on.

Isabelle set her boots down on the floor and took a seat next to them. She removed the boots from the package which she believed to be her size, and with some care, straightened them out and unlaced them. She was unsure as to what material they were made from. They felt soft, but also very tough. She could manipulate the fabric, but couldn't tear through it. She didn't realize she was actively trying to rip them apart until she noticed Edgar grinning at her. She paused, recognized she was being aggressive with the boots, and instead began to slide her feet into them.

"I don't know what the material is called, or what it is comprised of, but it is far more durable than the slicks." He raised one of his boots and turned it over, slapping the heel. "The soles are barefoot, designed to allow all the sensation in your feet while providing protection. A true predators tool."

The two sat silent next to each other as they finished putting their boots on. Isabelle was up and wandering about as soon as her boots were laced. She was surprised at how soft they felt on her feet. These boots added to the overall effect of comfort and mobility she got from the slick. Edgar rose behind her.

"The helmet and gloves can stay here until we're ready to make our way out," he said, moving the equipment to a table nearby.

"You mean we're not leaving yet?"

Edgar shook his head. "I need to see how you handle yourself with a weapon."

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