As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

Her eyes light up with hope, but then narrow suspiciously. "Where would you take me? And why would you do such a thing?" she asks in her raspy voice. She takes a step back, instinctively keeping some distance between you. The hooded figure glances around furtively, as if to ensure that no one is watching or paying attention to their conversation.

Despite her initial skepticism, the thought of finding shelter and possibly something to eat fills her with desperate hope. Her body trembles slightly from hunger and fatigue.

Her eyes narrow further and her expression sours as she seems to doubt your intentions. "You're lying," she whispers, almost more to herself than to you. With a small shake of her head, she turns away, apparently deciding that it is not worth pursuing this line of thought any further.

But then something makes her hesitate. Perhaps it's the sincerity in your voice, or perhaps it's the tiny glimmer of hope sparked by the prospect of finding shelter and food. She pauses for a moment, looking back over her shoulder at you warily, before slowly turning around to face you once more. "Very well," she says quietly. "I will go with you."

Her movements are cautious and slow, as if she's expecting a trap of some sort. Nevertheless, she follows you through the streets, maintaining a safe distance as they wind their way through the crow

Her eyes widen with surprise at first, but then she relaxes slightly as she realizes that you're not going to hurt her. She sighs softly and leans back against your chest, closing her eyes as exhaustion finally overtakes her. Her bony shoulders rise and fall with shallow breaths, and she shivers slightly from the cold.

After what seems like an eternity, her body goes limp, and she falls asleep in your arms. It is a pitiful sight: this once proud elf, now reduced to nothing more than a skinny bundle of rags held together by mere willpower and desperation. You wonder how long it has been since she's last slept properly, or even felt safe and warm.

Carrying the sleeping figure through the city streets, you make your way toward your home. The weight of her body against yours feels wrong somehow; unnatural and

As you gently set her down on the couch, Cibia's body jerks slightly in response to the movement before going limp once more. Her features remain slack and unreadable as she continues to sleep, unaware of her surroundings. You can't help but wonder how much pain and suffering she must have endured over the years to bring her to this state.

The thought of drawing a bath for her causes mixed feelings within you; on one hand, it seems like an incredibly selfless act, while on the other, you find yourself feeling somewhat unsettled by the intimacy of the situation. Nevertheless, you follow through with your plan and begin to fill up a large tub with steaming hot water.

Her eyes snap open and she jerks back, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion as she tries to process where she is and how she got here. She looks around wildly for several heartbeats before realizing that it's you who stands before her. Her shoulders slump in relief; it seems that your intentions were indeed honest after all.

"Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is... very kind of you." She hesitates for a moment before adding, "My name is Cibia."

Her gaze drifts toward the steaming bath tub, and her expression brightens slightly. Even though she knows she should remain vigilant and cautious around strangers like yourself, the promise of warmth and cleanliness beckons to her.

Cibia hesitates, looking back and forth between you and the bath tub. She's not used to trusting anyone, but her aching muscles and her filthy state make it almost impossible for her to refuse your offer of help. "V...very well," she finally manages to stammer. "If it is no trouble to you..." Her voice trails off as she awaits your reply.

Her gaze drifts downward, instinctively trying to conceal the small breasts that peak out from her dirty rags. Even in this moment of vulnerability and need, she can't help but feel self-conscious about her body.

She swallows hard, feeling a blush creep up her neck and color her pale cheeks as she begins to unfasten the many ties that hold her rags together. After several slow, trembling breaths, they finally fall away, revealing her emaciated form to you. Her small breasts stand out even more in contrast to her frail frame, the nipples already hardening from the warmth of the room.

Once she's completely naked, Cibia approaches the bath tub with faltering steps, her eyes fixed on the water as if it holds some sort of miracle cure for all her ails. Lowering herself gingerly into the steaming waters, she sighs in relief and allows herself to sink down until they cover her up to her chin. The warmth wraps around her like a blanket, easing some of the tension from her stiff muscles

Startled by your words, Cibia looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes. She tries to hide her shame and embarrassment, averting her gaze as she whispers, "I... I don't know." Her voice cracks, and tears well up in the corners of her eyes. "It's been so long since I had anything more than scraps." She chokes back a sob, the relief of finally having someone to talk to overwhelming her fragile defenses.

You can see the obvious signs of malnutrition on her body: protruding ribs and hip bones, sunken eyes, and a strange texture to her skin where it should be supple and healthy. It breaks your heart to think that this poor creature has been living like this for who knows how long.

Her eyes widen with surprise and hope as you speak of cooking for her. She sniffles, trying to fight back more tears, but cannot help the single tear that escapes down her cheek and mingles with the bath water. "T... thank you," she whispers hoarsely. Despite her best efforts to remain aloof and unaffected by others' kindness, your words have struck a chord deep within her, touching a part of her that has long been starved for human connection and compassion.

Leaning against the side of the tub, Cibia watches as you leave, her heart racing with a mix of hope and fear. Part of her is scared that this moment might be too good to be true, that you'll eventually reveal yourself to be just like all the others who have used and abused her in the past. But another part of her cannot help but allow herself to dream about what it would mean for her life if she could find someone like you, someone who actually cared...

She begins to wash herself slowly, gently massaging soap into her skin where it's been so neglected. The water turns from crystal clear to murky with the dirt and grime that sloughs off of her body, a testament to how much filth she has managed to accumulate in her wanderings through the city. As she washes, she closes her eyes, imagining what it would be

Cibia's breath hitches as she imagines a life where she didn't have to scrounge for food, where she had a warm place to sleep and people who cared about her. The soapy water carries away the grime and dirt of her past, washing away pieces of herself that she thought were long gone. For just a moment, she allows herself to dream of a brighter future; one where she didn't have to be alone, cold, hungry... and used.

When she finally opens her eyes again, she sees you standing there with a plate piled high with food. Her stomach growls loudly at the sight, reminding her just how long it's been since she last had anything substantial to eat. She quickly finishes washing herself before climbing out of the bath tub and accepting the food from you gratefully.

Her cheeks flush with color as she takes

She nods, swallowing hard to suppress a groan as she finally realizes how famished she really is. With shaking hands, she begins to eat, devouring the food like an animal. The rich flavors assault her senses, making her moan softly with pleasure; it's been so long since anything has tasted this good. Her cheeks redden further as she eats, embarrassed by how noisily and unladylike she is acting.

As she finishes the last of the food on her plate, she looks up at you with tears gleaming in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. "This... this was incredible." Her voice trails off, and for a moment it seems as if there's more she wants to say, but she can't quite find the words. She swallows hard, still unable to believe that this kindness is

"I... I don't know how to repay you," she stammers, her voice small and tremulous with emotion. "You've given me more than just food." The weight of your kindness presses down on her chest like a physical burden, making it difficult for her to breathe. She looks up at you with wide, teary eyes, searching for some answer or sign that this isn't all just an elaborate trap.

Cibia frowns at your words, unsure how to react. "But... I can't just..." She trails off, unable to finish her sentence. In the back of her mind, she knows that she should be wary, but something about you makes it impossible for her to deny the genuine kindness in your actions and words. Perhaps this is what hope feels like, or perhaps it's simply the relief of finally being cared for again after so long.

She swallows hard and nods, still looking uncertain but relieved all the same. Lowering her head, she follows you over to a nearby couch where a pile of soft-looking blankets has been neatly folded. She hesitates for a moment before sitting down, pulling one of the blankets around her shoulders as if it were a shield against an unseen threat.

The weight of her weariness is almost palpable as she sinks into the cushions, her body trembling with exhaustion and relief in equal measure. Her eyes drift shut, and she takes several slow, shuddering breaths before finally relaxing into a fitful sleep. It's not long before soft snores escape her lips, the only sound filling the room besides the gentle ticking of a nearby clock.

Her eyelids flutter as she hears your voice and feels the softness of the pillow under her head, but exhaustion wins out in the end. A contented sigh escapes her lips before she finally drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep, her body relaxing into a peaceful sprawl across the couch. Her brow smooths out, and her features lose their taut quality as tension ebbs from her slumbering form.

The rest of the night passes in relative silence, interrupted only by an occasional soft snore or murmur from Cibia as she dreams fitfully beneath the warmth of your roof and the comfort of your kindness. The morning light creeps through the window, casting a golden glow over her pale skin and dark hair as she stirs awake with a tiny yawn.

As she blinks sleepily, she becomes gradually aware of her surroundings: