[ It's true, she has seen most of what Odette has to offer. The muscle mostly, but the scars, too, if not totally then in bits and pieces. She'd never look at someone differently for bearing such things, nor is she insensitive enough to try to reach out and touch them — not when she's recoiled so easily at the touch of others for so long. She's patient and open, watching her undress — there's nothing even really awkward about it, not to her, at least. If anything, she's endlessly grateful for Odette's courtesy.
At the question, though, she hesitates, slowly drawing the string around her waist. It loosens, the fabric opening slightly and showing the swell of her cleavage. Giselle's about the opposite when it comes to showing skin: in her maid's apparel, all that was visible were her hands and face. Even after discarding it, She never shows her chest or legs — is adamant about it, really.
The scars he left were always above a certain point, so that they couldn't be glimpsed if she wore a full skirt. As such, even Giselle's nightgowns are long, and she wears high socks underneath, absolutely avoiding letting Odette catch even a glimpse of it. She's a perceptive person, and must have noticed this was all being done pointedly and intentionally after some time free from her uniform. It's those efforts that's making it hard for her to comply with the question, but with a shuddering breath, she unties the knot fully, gripping the lip of the tub with one hand to steady herself. As she stands, she's trembling.
The reason why becomes clear enough as the robe opens with her straightening — even without it fully being off or completely baring the map of her skin, the history of violence is extensive. The last time she'd bore these marks to someone else, she'd explained that every method of harm that man could think of, he had tried on her. She's been whipped, beaten, burned, cut up, had skin peeled away.... and the places that aren't marked from the waist down are few and far between. The higher up the scars are, the more severe the wounds left seemed to have been: her ghostly nature has frozen all these scars in time, but their existence at all is enough to put together that they come from a time when she was still alive.
Though the backs of her thighs are still covered by the robe, it can only be assumed it's much the same on the other side. The history is laid bare without her saying anything: these aren't wounds that were made after one or two encounters. But over dozens and dozens of abuses. Worst of all of them, perhaps, is a deeply carved word on the inside of her right thigh, not far down from her sex, 'HARLOT' in an archaic script.
She can't lift her head from the shame. All these years... and the feelings of disgust still come back, disgust at what had been done, and at her own body. Her curse means that she'll never be free of this. She can't help herself; tears run cold from her eyes, even as she valiantly tries to control her expression, expending every ounce of effort to keep a stiff upper lip. Maybe it's a good thing, that she can't close herself off so easily anymore. At the same time, her heart races, feeling humiliated and filled with adrenaline all at the same time.
But this is something she needs to do. She can remember, vaguely, coming to this conclusion before: that she'd never be able to feel truly loved until her partner had seen all of her. Though the tears drip from her face, she doesn't make a sound, not quite accepting Odette's offer to take her garment. She's a little too.... sensitive, doesn't know how she might feel being undressed by a hand that's not her own while showing this. That, too, she feels guilty for. ]
I'm sorry, [ She murmurs, extracting herself from the sleeves, with all the tenseness of someone pulling out their own tooth. Perhaps it's a testament to the strength of her will, that she continues on doing something that's causing her so much visible distress. But Giselle is stubborn, she's always been stubborn, and she won't go back on her word, even if it feels as though she's debasing herself. This was her decision, to share this with Odette. Like an olive branch, and a way to keep this heavy moment moving, she offers the robe to Odette with a shaking hand, turning her head towards the bath. It's almost full. ] I need a moment.
[ Before she can speak clearly again. She keeps her eyes low, too anxious to look at Odette's face, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she turns half to her side to shut the water off, her long hair obscuring some of her form as she does so. ]
cw for sexual and physical abuse
At the question, though, she hesitates, slowly drawing the string around her waist. It loosens, the fabric opening slightly and showing the swell of her cleavage. Giselle's about the opposite when it comes to showing skin: in her maid's apparel, all that was visible were her hands and face. Even after discarding it, She never shows her chest or legs — is adamant about it, really.
The scars he left were always above a certain point, so that they couldn't be glimpsed if she wore a full skirt. As such, even Giselle's nightgowns are long, and she wears high socks underneath, absolutely avoiding letting Odette catch even a glimpse of it. She's a perceptive person, and must have noticed this was all being done pointedly and intentionally after some time free from her uniform. It's those efforts that's making it hard for her to comply with the question, but with a shuddering breath, she unties the knot fully, gripping the lip of the tub with one hand to steady herself. As she stands, she's trembling.
The reason why becomes clear enough as the robe opens with her straightening — even without it fully being off or completely baring the map of her skin, the history of violence is extensive. The last time she'd bore these marks to someone else, she'd explained that every method of harm that man could think of, he had tried on her. She's been whipped, beaten, burned, cut up, had skin peeled away.... and the places that aren't marked from the waist down are few and far between. The higher up the scars are, the more severe the wounds left seemed to have been: her ghostly nature has frozen all these scars in time, but their existence at all is enough to put together that they come from a time when she was still alive.
Though the backs of her thighs are still covered by the robe, it can only be assumed it's much the same on the other side. The history is laid bare without her saying anything: these aren't wounds that were made after one or two encounters. But over dozens and dozens of abuses. Worst of all of them, perhaps, is a deeply carved word on the inside of her right thigh, not far down from her sex, 'HARLOT' in an archaic script.
She can't lift her head from the shame. All these years... and the feelings of disgust still come back, disgust at what had been done, and at her own body. Her curse means that she'll never be free of this. She can't help herself; tears run cold from her eyes, even as she valiantly tries to control her expression, expending every ounce of effort to keep a stiff upper lip. Maybe it's a good thing, that she can't close herself off so easily anymore. At the same time, her heart races, feeling humiliated and filled with adrenaline all at the same time.
But this is something she needs to do. She can remember, vaguely, coming to this conclusion before: that she'd never be able to feel truly loved until her partner had seen all of her. Though the tears drip from her face, she doesn't make a sound, not quite accepting Odette's offer to take her garment. She's a little too.... sensitive, doesn't know how she might feel being undressed by a hand that's not her own while showing this. That, too, she feels guilty for. ]
I'm sorry, [ She murmurs, extracting herself from the sleeves, with all the tenseness of someone pulling out their own tooth. Perhaps it's a testament to the strength of her will, that she continues on doing something that's causing her so much visible distress. But Giselle is stubborn, she's always been stubborn, and she won't go back on her word, even if it feels as though she's debasing herself. This was her decision, to share this with Odette. Like an olive branch, and a way to keep this heavy moment moving, she offers the robe to Odette with a shaking hand, turning her head towards the bath. It's almost full. ] I need a moment.
[ Before she can speak clearly again. She keeps her eyes low, too anxious to look at Odette's face, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she turns half to her side to shut the water off, her long hair obscuring some of her form as she does so. ]