At this point, Inej is a common face at Mag's. Nothing like on the level of Sam, but who is, honestly? Still, if Geralt frequents the Inn at all, he's probably at least seen her in passing once or twice.
Tonight, she's helping at the bar, serving drinks and food to customers as they trawl in and out of the place. It's when she makes the move to whisk a few dishes from the bartop that it happens. The briefest, barest brush of a touch but it seems that's all that's needed to trigger a trip into a memory that is not her own.
It happens in a rapid succession of flashes– children, all boys, though it's impossible to keep up with how many are in the group. It's cold. Frigid. And the door, it's locked. She can hear it click as the pin engages, over and over again. How many times did it sound? How many of the boys disappeared? What happened to them, where did they go? Why were they locked away in this place?
She should not have wondered the answer to it, because it's a gruesome scene and she wishes she could unknow it. Experiments on children. There's blood on the sheets, their wrists and ankles are strapped keeping them in place, strange things injected and forced to be swallowed. Her heart aches at the sight.
It's over almost as quickly as it started, fading at the edges back into the bar and the very sturdy man with stark features that don't match any of the children she witnessed. The Suli do not say I'm sorry, so there are no platitudes of apology to leave her mouth. "Malenchki," she mutters softly, though the logical part of her knows he won't know the word.
no subject
Tonight, she's helping at the bar, serving drinks and food to customers as they trawl in and out of the place. It's when she makes the move to whisk a few dishes from the bartop that it happens. The briefest, barest brush of a touch but it seems that's all that's needed to trigger a trip into a memory that is not her own.
It happens in a rapid succession of flashes– children, all boys, though it's impossible to keep up with how many are in the group. It's cold. Frigid. And the door, it's locked. She can hear it click as the pin engages, over and over again. How many times did it sound? How many of the boys disappeared? What happened to them, where did they go? Why were they locked away in this place?
She should not have wondered the answer to it, because it's a gruesome scene and she wishes she could unknow it. Experiments on children. There's blood on the sheets, their wrists and ankles are strapped keeping them in place, strange things injected and forced to be swallowed. Her heart aches at the sight.
It's over almost as quickly as it started, fading at the edges back into the bar and the very sturdy man with stark features that don't match any of the children she witnessed. The Suli do not say I'm sorry, so there are no platitudes of apology to leave her mouth. "Malenchki," she mutters softly, though the logical part of her knows he won't know the word.