Post by Widow on Jan 13, 2015 17:03:40 GMT
HP 100% | MP 0%
Heretic - Apprentice - Alchemist
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It has been a year since Widow last shared her ideals with the rest of the prisoners. Over time she grew quieter. More secluded from the rest of the inmates.
More would come in. She would make friends. Shortly after, given a few weeks or months. They would be driven to insanity and either kill themselves, each other, or be taken away screaming from their cells by guards and never heard from again.
This fear of forging friendships made Widow increasingly more lonely. As forming any brief interaction and making connections would often be shortlived.
She glances ate her plate of mush and sour beans across the table as she lie plastered against the corner of a wall.
Her light emerald eyes glow faintly in the darkness as her shackles are chained to the wall.
She tugs on them gently as she tries to reach for the plate with weak arms.
The guard slides the plate back from the other side of the cell.
“Come on...work for it. Be a good little doggy and bark for your master...” A guard scowls as he teasingly shifts the plate closer towards her grasp, but not close enough to where she can reach it.
She leans forward mustering all her strength that she possibly can, but her neck collar restricts her as she grits her teeth.
Is this really all I am now...?
An animal in the eyes of man...?
Who is this true monster here...?
Why must I be condemned for sorcery I never asked to possess...?
It isn’t my fault!
Her mind screams like sirens as her left hand clenches around the neck collar, her veins bulging out in anger.
Her hands quiver as they stretch out, the cracks of her nails hidden in the shroud of darkness.
She pants heavily as her eyes begin to dilate. They lock onto the plate of food with a hungry glare.
Her feet shift against the soil of the cold ground. It holds no insolation or essence of warmth to make her feel any notion of comfort.
Her bare feet are caked in dust and blisters from toiling away for eighteen hours a day in the mines of Cidna.
Her breath is weak and heavy as she grows more exhausted by her futile attempts.
The guard cackles wildly.
“Ha! Who’s laughing now, number 47!?! Not as tough as you thought you were before, huh? Guess what my wives cooking me for dinner. I’m having steak! And you want to know something else...the food on the outside actual has flavor! I bet that’s something you never knew! Knew recipes discovered by foreigners that appeared in this world a year ago...The world is advancing and you’re stuck here rotting in a cell!”
Her eyes begin to fade as her outstretched hand begins to crinkle and curl away from the plate.
Her heart beat is weak and weary as it dosen’t seem to have an audible beat to it. She can’t even feel it’s presence. So, taking her hand, she clutches at her chest and exhales lightly.
A sigh of relief.
She still lives on.
A wicked grin adorns her face as she cackles loudly.
The fools, they still don’t understand!
As long as my heart still beats, I have something to live for!
I have a reason to exist...a year ago..I found new hopes, wants, desires, and dreams!
I will break free of these chains that bind me!
The guard frowns in anger and begins to shout sinuous words.
“Oh yeah, having the time of your life in there, huh? Well, fine...we’ll see how much you’re laughing in another ten hours.” He mutters as he slides the plate to the furthest edge of the cell.
Seven hours has already passed as Widow waits patiently for her meal. The growling of her stomach breaks the silence as she coughs bits of dust out into the air.
She hears a noise, which makes her shift her feet back and take up a fetal position in the corner.
A rat peaks around the hallway to the cell. It’s a blurry image because of the eternal darkness, but she knows it’s a rat because due to not being able to rely on her eyes, she focused in on her ears for seven years and rats were a common thing to hear scurrying about.
The squeaks confirmed it. As the curious critter wrinkled it’s whiskers at her plate of spoiling food.
Her throat is horse from being choked by the neck collar for weeks.
“Wait...” She coughs as her frail face grows pale- and therefore indescribably weary among her baggy eyes.
Her words fall upon deaf ears as the creature claws the plate towards him and begins nibbling on the sour beans.
Widow’s eye twitches slightly, then in a more furious nature, as her emerald eyes rage into a typhoon at the sight, then suddenly...
Nothing. No traces of anger, as she hangs her head. It was quite possibly the twenty eighth time she has had a meal nicked. From the very same rat.
It grew several times larger over the course of the time she first had it steal her food.
She smiled faintly, foregoing her thought of hunger and watched the rodent as he ate.
Her blank eyes embraced the site as her gaze fell to the floor.
She withdrew her legs inward and curled her arms around her knees. She sniffled as she was sick with a flu.
Sickness carried over the encampment very quickly and was the cause of a large number of casualties within the prison encampment held deep within the mines.
She would have been among the numbers had it not been for the strength of her elven blood. Her people lived longer lives and had greater health than most of the other races, and for that she was grateful.
A shout comes from one other the other cells as the clanking of metal could be heard.
“No! But it wasn’t me! I did steal any ore! I promise! It was the last guy that was in this cell, I swear!” A boy screams frantically.
A loud crack of metal colliding with bone echoes through the hall as Widow casts her gaze as the dirt. She’s grown so use to this now. It’s like second nature to her to hear these things.
She slowly curls into a tight ball.
Her only security she shuts her eyes.
When I couldn’t see a future...
And when I could and it hurt to see...
I’d just close my eyes...
And dream of better days...
INVENTORY
EQUIPMENT: Starter Cloth Armor, Starter Longsword, Starter LongswordABILITIES USED: [Form Shift]
Words: 1102
Post Theme Song: Glow
TAGS:Awatsuki
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