The effect on her other senses of being partially blind — aside from the wind carrying her messages along golden threads — was acute and intense. The normally imperceptible disturbance of the water under her feet sounded like a tidal wave as she shifted her weight in preparation to move toward the dressing room; the air smelling infinitely more redolent than before, and it tasted of Fate — she desperately tried to will away the optimistic thought and accompanying remembrance derived from the sensation that she was, in essence, tasting the future of Amphoreus and a hero reclaiming the twelve Coreflames.
As you passed through the doorway into the dressing room, one hand clutching the towel securely around you — anyone could just walk in — your eyes danced over the linen chitons she had stitched before you entered the baths, folded neatly on a table. With your free hand, you picked it up, which with a faint smile you noted was one she mentioned weaving. Though the linen was in adequate shape, it had remained its softness and your thumb told stories of insufficient use in the way the fabric bobbled under your touch. As you rubbed the material between your fingers, your mind went back to the meeting you had with her in the hour before you got your chance to use the baths, and how you found yourself hanging on her every word.
“How is it?”
Startled by the sudden voice, you jerked upright from your bent position and whirled around in surprise, but upon resting your eyes on her, your expression turned to horror as the towel slid from under your arms, unwillingly sliding and pooling at the floor. Standing before her, you felt the heat inside you burn with great intensity, knowing that she just saw you be totally unclad under the towel.
“Hm. Interesting. The golden thread…it just whispered something curious.” Aglaea said pointedly as she strode to stand close to you, and untangled a golden thread to rest her left hand upon you in search of the chitons. “Let’s fix this before you stumble into more trouble. Hold still.”