- Messages
- 1
- Character Biography
- Link
At the end of the first day he stopped missing the light.
At the end of the second day he was too hungry and thirsty to think properly.
By the end of the third day he was wondering how long had passed unable to parse the time in the infinite darkness of the cell.
Cell was a generous word, it was a pit with no light, covered with a rock worked by a contraption to raise and lower it.
He liked to think, when his mind mustered the strength to do so, that the rock was because they were frightened of him.
How foolish he was.
Beaten he was, truly and now he waited for death wondering only if it would be hunger or some execution that ended him.
Then light, not much but enough to see and scraping of stone on stone. Someone had decided his fate and he regretted only that he lacked the strength to stand and face it, to reach out and defy one last time.
Still he found himself squirming. Working his weakened body up along the wall to what passed for upright while he could at least.
Strength was a gift and it spat in the War father's eye to not use every bit you had before your time.
Still the light, meagre as it was hurt his eyes as they fought to adjust and he found he had strength enough, if only barely that, to shield his face while the figure above looked down on him.
"I... was beginning to think... that you had forgotten about me."
His voice was dry and hoarse and weak but it carried in the silent darkness to his visitor.
At the end of the second day he was too hungry and thirsty to think properly.
By the end of the third day he was wondering how long had passed unable to parse the time in the infinite darkness of the cell.
Cell was a generous word, it was a pit with no light, covered with a rock worked by a contraption to raise and lower it.
He liked to think, when his mind mustered the strength to do so, that the rock was because they were frightened of him.
How foolish he was.
Beaten he was, truly and now he waited for death wondering only if it would be hunger or some execution that ended him.
Then light, not much but enough to see and scraping of stone on stone. Someone had decided his fate and he regretted only that he lacked the strength to stand and face it, to reach out and defy one last time.
Still he found himself squirming. Working his weakened body up along the wall to what passed for upright while he could at least.
Strength was a gift and it spat in the War father's eye to not use every bit you had before your time.
Still the light, meagre as it was hurt his eyes as they fought to adjust and he found he had strength enough, if only barely that, to shield his face while the figure above looked down on him.
"I... was beginning to think... that you had forgotten about me."
His voice was dry and hoarse and weak but it carried in the silent darkness to his visitor.
