The rude woman took hold of her arm roughly, then dropped it when her master told her to. Amora followed Hilda up the steps and through a hallway. Grumbling to herself, clearly displeased with the lack of punishment for disobeying her, the woman opened a door to her Lady's room. Amora took a few steps in, looking around the room in a bit of awe, when she felt herself being dragged back by her ear lobe.<br/><br/>"Listen well, you little nit!" Hilda hissed into her ear, "You make one wrong move, one wrong turn, step out of line, and I will personally see to it that you return to the streets!" With that, she released the slave's ear and shut the door behind her. Amora rubbed her ear silently, turning her attention to the quaint room she had found herself in. "This can't be true..." she whispered to herself, putting a hand on the lilac bedspread. She already knew it wasn't true; the master would let her spend one night here, then when his senses returned she would be sleeping outside, like she had always done. "But why his wife's room? Of all places..." she muttered, seeing a painting across from the bed. A beautiful woman, and her new master, each with a smile on their faces.<br/><br/>She felt terribly out of place, a filthy young woman, amidst all this lovely furniture and things. With another sigh, she flopped onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Like a cloud..." she murmured, starting to doze off, when she recalled what her master had told her to do. Gazing around the room again, it didn't look like it needed any cleaning or organizing. Of course, she had made that mistake before, when she thought things could not be any cleaner, her master would tell her otherwise, and she would be punished for calling her master a liar. She put a hand to her back absentmindedly, so many scars, so much pain she had to endure. "Father would have loved to have a room like this..."