She let the world fade around her as she shut her eyes. Concentrate, she thought to herself. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the... oh. Lanala had almost forgotten about the gag. The stifling cloth pressed tight against her lips and kept the wadded up cloth sealed within her mouth. Of course she didn't forget about the thick rope that bound her wrists behind her back. Nor did she forget the others that wound around her arms and the four that bound her legs at the ankles, knees, and thighs.
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A strand of her medium length, tied back hair fell in front of her eyes. She always liked the colour but people had a hard time deciding what exactly the colour was. Fuscia? Magenta? Plain old pink? Or was it purple? Lanala herself preferred to call it strawberry because it sounded better and...
Why am I wasting time thinking about my hair colour? She thought to herself. I've got training to do.
The room she sat in was plain and empty. Four grey, stone walls and a heavy iron door that was locked at the present moment surrounded the bound and gagged woman. A large window sat to the left of the door with thick bars blocking it off from the adjacent room. Another woman stood there, arms folded, watching Lanala writhe and struggle.
The huge, hulking woman who stood and watched was the leader of their order, Artema. She stood more than a foot taller than anyone else in the order. Her massive build could fill any doorway and in this cramped training cell Artema had to duck to even enter. Artema stared at Lanala with sharp, intelligent green eyes. Her hair, tied back in a pony tail, was undoubtedly purple. Lanala could never help but notice that massive warrior woman whenever she was around. But perhaps that was because they were married.
Lanala's mind wandered when she thought on her impressive wife. While Lanala herself was not exactly small, Artema dwarfed her and made her feel safe. Her own figure was athletic and toned and Artema often remarked on it but Lanala would look upon Artema and feel positively tiny. Her own six foot frame felt like a child standing next to the gorgeous woman in white.
The thought forced Lanala to give her head a shake. Right, she thought. The training. Don't let her down.
Artema often came down particularly hard on Lanala but the other five members of the order didn't see it that way. They saw her as 'the favourite.' Well most of them did, anyway. Lanala was determined to show that Artema did not play favourites and took every admonishment from her wife in stride.
Lanala tugged her ankles a bit and felt the rope dig into her black, knee-high sandals. The thought occurred to her that she and Artema often dressed quite similarly. There were differences, sure. They wore opposing colours; Artema wore white and Lanala dressed in black. Artema's battle skirt was longer, reaching just above her knees while Lanala favoured one about half the length. She cited the climate of their tropical island home on Ikaatan but really just enjoyed the comfort. That and Artema told her once, before they were dating, that she'd liked it and Lanala decided then to wear it as often as possible.
