INTRO LOG #2

[abraxasmods]

Intro Log #2

It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.

In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.

[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]

Comments

[aquaveiled]

[ She's glad that her humor has at least landed on target. There isn't always much to be laughing or smiling about down in the dungeons, but Himeka does her best not to dwell more than necessary...and that usually means keeping her mind otherwise occupied. ]

It would be more entertaining than a prison yard row. Surely they would have to appreciate that much.

[ Though most prisoners have been...well-ish behaved. Ish.

To the question, she nods, her smile dimming a little. ]

The better half of the summer, as with most who were summoned through the portal.

[ Himeka leans to one side, unabashedly trying to see if she can catch a glimpse of the wowan's tarot. ]

Is that how you arrived as well?

[princessvegas]

[ If she were to be truly honest with herself, Julie is pretty sure she's far more disposable than Lloyd is, but that's exactly why she went to such lengths to make herself invaluable to him. She'll hide her true feelings and intentions forever if it keeps her in a position of power.

But Julie doesn't make a habit out of being truly honest with herself or anyone else, so she just laughs a little. ]

As long as I get good enough to keep myself comfortable, I'll be okay. I'm not out to try and be God or nothin'. [ She has a god, after all, and he's just a few cells over.

She cocks her head thoughtfully, trying to come up with the right label for herself. ] I'm the people person.

[princessvegas]

[ That's childish, Nadine. And also not befitting of a queen, Miss Take-The-High Road. Angry and bitchy as she is, Julie is still someone who has pledged her life for your husband.

She feels she deserves a lot more cake than she has been handed. ]

Thanks.

[ Her tone is not particularly grateful, but the nicety is still there. She takes a bite before tucking the cake away for later. ]

You been here the whole time and you ain't figured out that you come from earlier than Lloyd? And Flagg too, I bet.

[princessvegas]

[ It is an oppressive sort of boredom here, if only because Julie knows for a fact that back home, prisoners at least have access to television and magazines. Having to just sit around in glum silence with other people is mindnumbing at its best. Even just tossing this stupid ball around is a relief.

But then again, tossing the stupid ball around with this extremely handsome man ain't half bad at all.

She grins at him and bounces the ball his way, nails flashing shiny pink to match her hair, with tiny glinting crystals. She was clearly pulled from somewhere that values flashy dressing. ]

If you want one of the other ones, just say the word and we can go steal it.

[unnecessaryflourishes]

[There are more than a few reasons for them to have been causing the various Rejoinings, it's true. Some more sentimental than others, but for all that he is largely willing to explain his actions (albeit through the lens of his own experiences and beliefs) neither are they something that he is much inclined to address without their being good reason to. And while he cannot deny that knowing more of the truth may have swayed the opinions of at least some people, none of them are Estinien.

More immediately relevantly, however, the conversation is not the sort that seems like it might easily lend itself to such conversations, regardless of how useful he has found them in the past.

And even though it is something of an annoyance to dragged somewhere against his direct will, it is no more so than the loss of his clothes... or so he certainly takes pains to imply, given the shrug that he offers in response to Estinien's comment about having shed his more customary effects.]

Ah, so I see you don't know the whole of it. I had wondered about that.

[The tone of his voice is quite entirely too smug by half. Taunting, almost, though by his standards it's a relatively tame one.]

[unnecessaryflourishes]

It would have interfered somewhat with observing the stars, although I did have one with me.

[A pause, and a shrug, as if this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having.]

I left it just inside, if that will pose a problem?

[If one looks, a faint glow might be visible through one of the windows, as if a small lantern or candle has been left against the wall just inside the door that would otherwise lead to the balcony.]

[unnecessaryflourishes]

It is rather uncommon for legends to be preserved in their entirety across worlds.

[Not completely impossible, perhaps, but certainly uncommon. Although in fairness, the worlds that Emet-Selch knows best are fairly closely entwined, and he can't imagine that is terribly likely to be the case anywhere else.

Interestingly, perhaps, he doesn't so much as bat an eye at the implication that Nero is older - possibly significantly older than he seems to be.]

Such things do tend to fade over the years. To drift away until they are naught more than flickering shadows, caught against the light.

[He shrugs, then, as if to say 'but what can you do'.]

Still, to remember the story at all is better than nothing.

[extremethirst]

[ Nero crosses his arms as he nods along to what the man is saying. His jaw tightens not so much what is being said, but he gets the feeling that he is in the presence of someone older than himself.

What a rare feeling. He supposes that is what he gets hanging around humans for so long. Of course, can he call it hanging out if he's murdering them? Squinting, he frowns deep as he tries to decide if it counts or not.

His head straightens as he looks carefully at the man once he finishes speaking. He drops his arms down to his side, at first, before he carefully lifts one hand slowly up. ]

Yeah, neat. [ The elf's tone a little dismissive despite this is a topic that he himself brought up. He attempts to slap his hand on the man's forehead with the only explanation being an abrupt question that follows: ] Hey, what is this?

[abyssions]

I'll take that as a compliment.

[He says it flatly, though he doesn't seem terribly offended. Yuri's been keeping track of who his fellow prison visitors are, although this is the first of Stephen's magic he's seeing. No blastia, at least that he can spot, anyway, which seems to be the rule rather than the exception here.

Maybe someday he'll ask how that works, try to figure out a way it could help Estelle. Too bad there's that whole kidnapping and imprisonment thing to deal with first.]

It's like everyone's always using magic here. I'm starting to feel left out.

[gynvael]

[ The leather ball bounces towards him. He catches it in a hand. His eyes don't leave her as he does, roaming over her casually; in the right light, they glint an almost animal yellow. The shine of her appearance makes him think nobility, but the foreign drawl of her coarse speech seems otherwise. Interesting. ]

Keen on theft already? [ He sends the ball back. The faintest note of amusement colours the flatness of his words. ] Give it another week, at least, before you make trouble.

[ This new group has been both concerning and curious. Not as many as previous, which suggests the summonings have either been refined or have grown more conservative. Either way, it means Thorne has granted its pet mage to press forward with whatever plans they've cooked up. Not the most comforting of thoughts.

Still. Plans moving forward often leave gaps in the structure, too. ]

[abyssions]

New?

[That piques his interest, and yeah, they're totally creepy. For once, he utilizes his manners and holds that comment back, though.]

You've never had anything like that before?

[baltimores]

[ His look is blank as he shrugs at her embarrassment. ]

It's an honest living. More honest than killing and stealing.

[ Absolutely no judgment from him; he knows exactly what she's talking about, has lived it himself.

The rest of her mile a minute talking, there's only so much he can discern from. Doesn't know who 'Parnasse is; doesn't know who her sister is, either, but he does like the fact that she'll protect her, a lone win in his mental catalogue of Eponine amid the ever-increasing collection of strikes. ]

Well, I don't got a belt here.

[ There's no inflection to his voice; he could be joking or totally serious. Even Amos isn't entirely sure — he gets wanting to avoid memories of abuse but damn she will not shut up.

Cocks his head as her final words sink in. He doesn't like her, no, but he's familiar with being trapped in an impossible situation and, well, she probably doesn't deserve that. So, after a pause, ] Could always kill the gang leader. 's what I did.

[baltimores]

[ There's that lump in his throat that won't go away, the churning in his gut. Amos inhales, nostrils flaring; it doesn't help. Didn't know why he thought it might. Nothing will at this stage.

He shoots Nadine a look instead. ]

Lady, you're not a fuckin' prisoner.

[ There's an edge to his voice; he likes her, or at least he thinks he does, but there's a limit. Wanting to keep kids safe is all well and good, but he's also been locked up, had every aspect of his life restricted for months now, and he only has a bit of frayed rope left to cling to. Doesn't know what he's going to do when it runs out, just knows that it will; wouldn't, if he was the one on the other side of those bars. ]

You know what you get to do? Come and go as you please. Eat shitty pastries whenever you want and bring the leftovers down here like that's supposed to make things better. [ He unclenches his fist then, finally, lets the remains fall to the ground. It's nothing to him. ] You need something to do? Go kill the fuckers who brought us here and figure it out after that.

[ It's what he would do except, you know, he's locked up, every aspect of his new life controlled, and he needs that part to end. Now. He's decidedly not a good person, and the longer he's down here, the less interested he is in finding someone to ever help him be one. ]

[gardienne]

[She doesn’t reply: what does it matter about realistic thinking? It is what it is and that is that.

She touches his hair only lightly, quite aware of her own filth and other people’s disgust at her dishevelled appearance. Her tunic had been ripped a long time ago when she and Susan had stolen the sweets from the guard. Now it’s stained with blood and dirt from the hard floors she’s been forced to sleep on, as well as missing that square of fabric from the sweets, Eponine knows she looks a mess.

But this man - creature? - doesn’t seem to mind too much. He’s still talking, still smiling, so she smiles back again.]

I don’t know, Sir, truly. She pushed me for the food. It is a shame, you know? Me, I am not so kind as to share food. It is selfish, no? But Sir, always I am hungry. Me, I will do anything for food. I have done what I must for food. But would I push someone what is starving away? No.
She calls me names too. Bitch, slut, whore. I don’t mind. I have had worse from even my Pa than that. Perhaps it’s true anyway. How is she to know what I have done in my past? What does a name matter anyway, Sir?

[wiedzminka]

Mm. Too much to hope for. I figured.

[ Ciri sighs, and with the exhalation lets her whole body sink, until she ends up on the floor a few feet in front of her fellow prisoner (careful not to mess up his dirt scribbles, of course). With her knees up in front of her, she rests her elbows atop them, sitting casually so they can chat quietly without her having to lean over to hear at this volume. ]

I don't even know what we're meant to be on trial for. A trial should allow the convicted a chance to defend themselves, but how are we meant to provide evidence against any wrongdoing when the accusation seems to be against our very existence here, through no fault of our own?

Their mages should be on trial, not we.

[wiedzminka]

"Hm."

Bugs? The clothes aren't comfortable, but she hasn't considered the scratchiness reminiscent of insects. At least not until now.

Ciri shrugs.

"Then take your shirt off, if you dislike it so much."

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri doesn't comment on Eponine's revelation she'd tried to take her own life. She listens to it as she'd listened to the rest, without judgement but not without sympathy. Not the sort that makes her want to croon and try to comfort the girl, not the sort of horrified pity someone entirely unused to seeing people like this might feel -- no, Ciri has seen too many people beaten down by life, by war, by hunger. Pity isn't going to help anyone here. ]

You've been trapped here far longer than I. You may be right.

[ Her voice is soft, making sure it has no chance to carry in case any guards are nearby. ]

I haven't had a chance yet to take stock properly, but rest assured, I have no plans to waste away in here either.

[gardienne]

[She smiles shyly at Amos, glad that he’s accepted her past with slur or condemnation. Most people wouldn’t. She chuckles though.]

Ain’t honest if you pick a pocket whilst they’re enthralled, Sir. That is not so honest. But do they deserve it? It is only to get fair pay for it. Or enough for sausage or pie.

[ Eponine hugs her arms about her as Amos mentions the belt. Her smile becomes rueful. He wants her gone. She leans forward so she’s hunched over and shuffles her feet in the dust of the courtyard, tracing a pattern with her toe.

She still doesn’t go, though her expression is wary. She hates being hit more than anything, and she knows if she pushes the wrong buttons, Amos’ll go for her.]

You killed your gang leader? So you were the head of it? Me, no. I can’t do so. There are four heads and they are like a worm. If you chop one, another will grow. And two, two you cannot touch. Monsieur Claquesous, he is one with the shadows, him. All masks and faces and names and so slippery he even vanished from a prison cart and left his handcuffs behind. And they put ‘em tight on us, behind you and that, but he still slipped ‘em. My Pa were there with him, and he swore he didn’t see it. And Montparnasse is the other. I thought we’d be married, once. But no. He likes me for an alleyway, to warm his bed. Marriage is not for me. I’d like it though. Marriage. It’d be nice to be a lady.

[wiedzminka]

[ The humor fades from Ciri's face. She crosses her arms, turning her head slightly to follow the way the strange-looking woman leans over. ]

I was summoned through a dark void and dragged out of it by mages who clapped me in irons before I could even recover my senses enough to ask what I'd done wrong.

Is that what you mean? Or did they bring your group in some other way?

[ A beat, before she finally asks: ]

What are you looking for?

[wiedzminka]

"They allow visitors so freely? And allow them to bring us things, at that? They must be very confident in how well they track the goings-on down here."

Their captors seem to make some strange decisions. Ciri wonders how many of those summoned and welcomed into the court above are just as eager to escape; just because they aren't in the cells, if they were summoned here for a purpose, Ciri is quote sure they're hardly free to do as they please either. Maybe they're allowed to visit because they aren't so different, after all. Maybe it's in part a deterrent from bad behavior, knowing they could end up locked in a dank cell.

In any case, Ciri is keen on taking advantage, for now, of her fellow prisoner's willingness to talk freely. She knows very little of this place, and the gaps in her knowledge must be filled before she can really consider planning ahead.

"Will you tell me about the Singularity? All I know is that its powers brought us here, somehow."

[wiedzminka]

...mm.

[ Ciri seems to consider this. She turns over at last, scrubbing her forearm across her eyes as she does, the scratchy sleeve of her shirt smearing dirt into the tear streaks on her cheeks. The arm stays there, draped across the top half of her face. ]

No. Not hungry.

Have it if you wish. You've been here longer than I. Could use it more.

[gardienne]

You will be the first to think I’m right!

[Eponine chuckles bitterly]

There ain’t much to look at. They freed most who came here with me. Us, we are the worst of the worst. Them what even now M’sieur Ambrose says is too dangerous. So if we are so dangerous, we should put it to good use and fight our way out.

[wiedzminka]

...they did? Freed them?

[ This clearly surprises Ciri. She leans closer with interest, voice low. ]

How do they determine who goes free? I was told something about a trial.

Have they tried you already, Eponine?

[gardienne]

Yes. They let them go. Susan is free now. And Kirigan. He were in here. And Jesper - I haven’t seen him in forever.

[she shakes her head.]

No. When they caught us, the M’sieur Ambrose yelled. We were taken here and put in solitary for nigh three weeks and I have heard the guards say we are finished. Perhaps they have trials without us. Just so in France. I were convicted without a trial but after it, I lied and said only were I fourteen. They kept me for a bit but let me go. If I were convicted, I don’t know and neither do they, for I gave a false name.

They took Mam’zelle Relena for trial. I do know what happened to her though. It is a shame. She is nice. She played with my dolls with me.

[baltimores]

[ Against all odds, the corners of his lips quirk upwards, something of a smile showing through. Like an inside joke only certain people who have lived through certain things may get and, turns out, they might both be that person. ]

Not your problem if they're not paying attention. You find a way to get some power back, situation like that? You take it.

[ And it isn't often he regrets things he says. No, strike that; he never does. But she looks smaller, when she curls in on herself like that. Younger. Amos doesn't know how young she actually is — certainly not young — but. Maybe young enough. Either way. He looks away from her as she does it, stares back out at nothing. Swallows. The anger building up inside him is still there; at some point, he's going to let it loose. Doesn't know when, just... he knows himself well enough to know it's going to happen.

Reflexively clenches and unclenches his fists; lets his hands fall on his lap. Not resting them, just. A place for them to be, in the meantime. ]

No. I killed him and I left. Past can't come back for you if it's dead, so.

[ A lopsided, half-hearted shrug; a sudden sense of exhaustion. From seeing her reaction to him, from waiting for the inevitable. It's draining, and it leaves his voice sounding empty. Probably better than the alternative, but it still feels like shit, especially when he knows this is only a temporary reprieve. ]

I knew this woman once. [ Lydia. Though he's not going to say her name out loud; that's too personal. Too private. ] She did what she had to in order to survive. Part of that was warming beds, sure. Lost touch with her. Found out later, after she'd died, that she did get married. Nice guy, too. So I dunno. Guess anything's possible.

[ They were pulled into another world, after all; anything really is possible, isn't it. ]