She didn't even bother ringing for a servant to assist her. Even as weak as she was, she knew that the maids assigned to the manor and to her would be absolutely useless. As it was, they hadn't checked on her for days, probably thought that she had already died. She would sort that out soon enough, as soon as she was strong enough that a breeze wouldn't knock her over. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she was desperate to get cleaned up, her skin fairly crawling from how unclean she currently was.
Determination filling her, she closed her eyes and did a round of meditative breathing. In and out, slow and calm, steadying herself and drawing her emotions into a mental picture of a rose carved from diamond. Both beautiful and unbreakable. She had often done this exercise when the pain of the treatments threatened to overwhelm her and it was easy to slip into the familiar pattern.
Although she could keep up this state for hours, she only did five minutes this time. Her body would not be able to sustain extended exertion at this moment, so she would have to maximize her energy, as pitiful as it was. Sighing, she slowly opened her eyes and began to organize her thoughts.
First order of business was clean clothes, because her current ones were absolutely not fit to be worn. She didn't know how long the previous occupant of this body had worn these exact clothes but it had definitely been several days at the bare minimum. She felt the briefest flash of pity, depression and despair were such bottomless pits, sucking all life and vitality from a person and leaving them a husk. However, as quickly as it came, she pushed it away.
Pity was useless and regrets had no place either. She'd had some bouts of self-pity during the first couple of years of her diagnosis. And what had they changed? Absolutely nothing. At the end of the day, she still had to move forward whether she had wanted to or not. So while she felt a slight kinship for that other Elina for the briefest of moments, she had sworn to never again give in to such thoughts and allow them to steal her life from her because of whispered lies.
Thankfully, she still had all of the original Elina's memories. It would've been hard to navigate this new reality if she had come with no memories at all, even such basic things as the layout of the manor or what foods were served her. Her steps were slow but steady as she crossed over to the wardrobe and opened it.
As she expected, the showing was completely pitiful. Only half full and of those, half were completely unsuitable. There was one high end dress that was presentable, although clearly out of fashion. The rest was a garish mish-mash of colors and fabrics. Even if a person was completely healthy and lovely, that particular shade of orange would still make them look washed out, pallid, and on their death bed. The same for the pink and that obnoxious lime green. She was impressed that someone managed to dye that particular shade and then had the nerve to actually sell it. Even more surprising that someone had bought it. But the most astonishing thing was that it had ended up in a princess's wardrobe.
The half of the wardrobe that was not filled with eye watering colors were filled with dresses that were barely a step above a maidservant's. Not only that, but she could tell at a glance that the fabric was cheap and wouldn't stand up to long term use. Although more modest and less visually offensive than the higher end dresses, Elina knew that the fabric would've chaffed both the princess's skin and her tender soul. However, she had no qualms about wearing rougher fabrics and it wouldn't be a long-term issue. Once she got the manor in order, she could get better clothes made for herself instead of this mockery of a wardrobe that she currently possessed.
Sorting through the plain dresses, she let out a quiet snort. It was clearly Rosina's hand behind this so-called 'humiliation' and the princess must've suffered greatly emotionally at this helter-skelter collection of clothes that was far beneath what was her station. But to her, they were just clothes and would do for now. Yes, how one dressed could serve as sort of an armor in any situation. But right now, she needed to grow physically strong before she started with the psychological warfare portion of her revenge.
Finally picking a dull navy blue outfit, she made her way over to the bathroom. However, turning on the light and looking at the state of the bathtub, she immediately turned on her heel and headed back to the wardrobe. Grabbing that horrendous orange dress, she tore it roughly from the hanger, satisfaction filling her at the sound of ripping fabric. Given how filthy the bathroom was, she doubted that there were any cleaning supplies in the room and she wasn't going to call a maid or search for cleaning supplies, so this rag of dress would have to do.
Returning to the bathroom, she knelt on the hard tile and carefully turned on the taps. It took nearly five minutes for the water to turn warm but she used the time and the ancient bar of soap she'd found to scrub the mold and grime from the tub. She had to take several breaks, her breathing labored and muscles protesting violently. However, if nothing else, her years in the hospital had taught her the importance of cleanliness, especially when dealing with a weakened body. The orange dress did not survive the ordeal but she couldn't find it in herself to mourn its long overdue death.
Finally, when the tub was clean enough that she didn't fear catching a disease and the water was flowing clean and warm, she carefully plugged the tub and allowed it to start filling. While it was filling, she examined all the cabinets and surfaces for any supplies. Her search turned up a ratty bathrobe, one very coarse towel, three bars of rough oatmeal soap, one of which had been half used, and a half full jar of what looked like some sort of face cream but since it was growing mold, it was immediately ruled out as anything she might use.
A far cry from the luxurious oils, soaps, and balms in her memory. Still, the need to be clean far outweighed any pickiness she might've felt. Wetting one of the unused bars of soap, she rubbed it in a thin stripe across her inner forearm and waited for a minute to make sure that there wouldn't be any adverse reaction. While she waited, the tub finally finished filling and she shut off the water.
Once she was satisfied that there wouldn't be any reaction, she undressed, suddenly desperate to be clean. As she undressed, she took stock of this body. Her hair was dry, greasy, and brittle, all at the same time, indicating a serious lack of care and poor diet. Also, possibly a lack of sunlight, between her hair and how pale her skin was. Even if she was naturally pale, this was a corpse's pallor, not a healthy fairness. Her muscles and limbs were already weak and trembling from the very little that she had managed to do, so she was also probably looking at least mild if not serious muscle atrophy. She could also count each and every one of her ribs and feeling her back, she could also feel each knob of her spine. She was slightly better than skeletal, but not by much.
Sighing, she stepped into the bath and slid down into the warm water. She had so much ground to regain, this was gonna take a while. Thankfully, she had time.
Probably.