Relieved beyond measure at a chance to wash the gore off, Kryschenn smiled at the now-tiny faerie's playful antics, took a deep breath, and let herself collapse fully-clothed into the water. She came up shrieking. "AIEEEEEE! Cold! Cold! Gaaahhh!" she spluttered. How in the world could Fairalin call this water fine? Probably because she was a faerie, and all things of nature, like a fresh, running stream, were welcome to her. And there was one plus to the water being chilly; it was definitely reviving Kryschenn from the exhausted, near-stupor she'd been in.
Getting used to the water's temperature, Kryschenn busied herself scrubbing her hair, her face, her armor, everything that remotely even had a speck of evidence of what she had done. She vaguely wondered if the water was going to damage her leather tunic and leggings but really didn't care. She just had to get everything as clean as possible, from her sword to the inside of her boots and everything in between.
When she was rinsing out the underside of her bronze epaulettes for the third time, a flash of insight hit Kryschenn, and she realized that no matter how hard she scrubbed, she really was not going to get rid of the guilt and horror of what she had done this way. She sighed. At least she was clean on the outside, anyway. Pulling at the neckline of her muslin under-blouse, she spared a look at her shoulder. Apparently, one of her attackers with a spear or something had lanced her in that shoulder, but she'd kept on fighting. Fairalin had healed the wound, so that wasn't the issue. The issue was that there were nine men...the merchant's two men, the captain of the guard, and six of the palace guard, lying dead in that house, which she was going to have to somehow explain, even though she still couldn't remember a thing.
"Well, are you ready to go?" Kryschenn called to Fairalin, who had been careful not to get downstream of her as she rinsed all that gore away. Climbing out of the water, she picked her tartan cape off a branch that she had hung it on to dry (unsuccessfully in that little time) and reattached it. She looked wryly at her soaked appearance and squilched her toes around in her waterlogged boots, managing a smile. Thankfully, at least she felt a lot better, and was fairly certain she could make the long walk back to the castle. But once they got there, a good long nap would be the first order of business, regardless of who wanted to know what. "Time to face the music," she continued. "I really hope the Princess believes us."
