[What will likely be a rather short RP (comparatively speaking), the results of which will be determined by key players. But hopefully it will be fun and entertaining for any who'd like to take part!]
The water was going to drive me utterly insane. Not the obnoxious nagging of the pain in my ravaged leg, or the cold working its way into my hollow bones. Oh, sure, those things were annoying, no doubt. Especially the latter. I was shivering so hard my upper and lower jaws were constantly locked in intense battle, and I felt like I might just fall to pieces from trembling alone. Which might have been preferable, all this considered. It was just waiting now, waiting to die in this utterly morbid fashion, only that infuriating drip, drip, drip of the water to keep me company. Now and then a particularly frisky drop would plunk down from the cave's ceiling and land right atop my headfin, making its way down my back like the tracing finger of some icy wraith. Which of course compounded that heinous moaning sound that was wafting from the mouth of the cave with each passing breeze. If I was the superstitious sort I'd probably think I was about to be assaulted by the ghosts of the long dead, wanderers who got stuck down here because they ran out of twine or chalk to guide their way.
Every now and then a gust of it would find its way down into the throat of this labyrinthine tunnel. I'd sway on my chains like a fish left out to be bartered over. Though I doubt anyone would pay much for me. Scrawny and all that. Not much meat on these bones, and I'd probably taste awfully bitter.
The torture was the only break up in my monotony. The questions were always the same, though. Who did you tell? Who knows the truth? Give us their names, where they live, tell us, tell us. Here they tore off a claw, there they shoved a pin through the sensitive membrane of my wing. They started small, and then advanced into more bold and creative pursuits, breaking bones, pressing red-hot irons against my gills, submerging me in a tub of icy water until my limbs grew numb. Always I answered them the same, my final series of lies, my final protest, my last stand against them. No one. I told no one. Go ahead, do it again, I dare you. Stab me. Break me. Kill me, I urge you. Again and again, see if you can break through. You're just not trying hard enough, are you?
I doubted it would be long now. Everything hurt, and I was cold, always so very, very cold. I couldn't move much, raising my head was sheer agony, kicking my legs an impossibility. All I could do was hang there and bicker and bleed, and pretty soon not even the bickering was an option so it was only the latter. I'd cried, I'd screamed, I'd even laughed, and that was when I knew I was starting to lose what might have been left of my questionable sanity. Of course I hadn't taken any of my usual “treatment,” so to top it all I had to contend with the minute details flashing across my mind, unable to filter anything out. The sound of their breathing. The flickering of their eyes. The slightest, blurred motion of their fingers. It made my head pound, and I couldn't focus on much of anything. So I closed my eyes and concentrated only on keeping my mouth shut, on this last thing I could do, this final protest.
It wouldn't be long, I told myself. They'd run out of patience, or better, believe that no one knew, and end me.
The thing that frustrated me most about this situation was how easily I was bloody well captured. Two damn ynnwn women, armed with drugs and the element of surprise. All they had to do was nock an arrow and cry wolf, or in this case, that there was some tyke injured somewhere, and I can running over that hill like a common idiot. I didn't even land a hit on either of them, or get any names. Just a good idea of their faces. Not that it matters any longer. I'm gong to die in here.
It took me a while to figure out why I was still even breathing at all. I didn't know why, until he walked down the tunnel towards me. Cowled and cloaked I wasn't afraid of him, I couldn't see his face. I just figured it was someone who might be more adept at the art of torture that they hoped would get more out of me.
But when his bright blue eyes looked at me when he drew his hood back, what was left of the blood in my body froze. I knew this man. His face had haunted my dreams for cycles, night upon night. Already I could see the azure glow on the tips of his fingers, and it chilled me further, right through the marrow of my bones.
“Hello, Evirea,” he said, smiling. Damn him. Damn that smile. “I hear you've been a very stubborn girl. Now, let's get on with this, shall we? I need to know who it is you've been gossiping to. I need to know whose heads need to be laid at your feet.”
He reached up and touched my temple, and my world went black.
