[RPG] [FEI] [Ethiala] The Sound of Silence
Kimberly Amthor
happeh_rock_weasel at hotmail.com
Tue Jul 25 12:21:19 CEST 2006
Ironic, concerning her past, that the first time she's ever thrown in jail
is for no reason at all.
Riamh awakes to reflexively kick another vermin away, grimacing as she
shifts to press her back against the cold stone of the prison wall. There's
no telling what fanged or diseased creatures would venture forth to explore
their cellmate in the dark. She didn't care...she just didn't want them
touching her.
"Gods, I'm dying," comes her complaintive mutter. No food, no water, no
explanation for being held captive. No guards, which would have been
prefered...except that also meant no release from the chafing shackles...no
one to talk to, even if the conversation slanted to unfriendly tones.
Riamh cries out, "Perhaps Ethiala storming your capital might loosen
Gunfire's tongue!" Then she thinks more historically, murmuring as she
buries her head against her arm, "...or his executioner's axe."
Had her fever returned from the previous week?
A wet substance trickles down Riamh's arm and onto her nose. The stench of
blood becomes more pungent. Legs push her body to stand and she touches the
moist, torn skin about her wrist...too short were the chains' lease on
Riamh's wrists. When she was not able to stand (as was the case when she
slept), the course iron cut and ripped into her flesh.
Narrowing her eyes, she speaks grudgingly, "You'd think my bones were made
of gold, the way Arcaean shackles so desparately dig for them..."
...silence, save for the sound of Riamh's breathing. She holds her
breath...her ears begin to ring. Deafening silence. She exhales...
Tears breach the corners of Riamh's eyes and she suddenly wreathes to one
side, jerking her arms down fiercely...hoping the physical pain of wrought
iron digging into her wrists might drown the more severe pain of utter
desolation. Never before had she felt so dejectedly alone...
Her body relaxes.
A whispered declaration in the darkness...now in fearful, somber earnest...
"Gods...I'm dying..."
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