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

Abigail Hobbs | Hannibal | The Hanged Man

[souille]

She's tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, just keep her head down and do everything she's told. Abigail's not sure whether it will get her out of here faster, but she's certain it will make things go smoother. All she can do, besides bide her time and play along, is to keep an eye out for anything that might help her get along here - whether it's committing snippets of the guards' conversation to memory or sizing up the other prisoners to figure out who to keep far away from and who might be useful as protection.

She tries to sit in the corner where possible, whether it's in her cell or out in the courtyard, so that no one can come up from behind her, legs bunched up against her chest with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her fingers dig into the back of her hands, and when she has to raise a hand to eat, or to tuck her hair behind her ear, it's obvious that she's shaking with her nerves. She's polite, her smile tight and trying to give away as little as possible. She stares too much, though, especially at the images embroidered on the back of the prisoners tunics, vaguely recognising the tarot cards but not knowing anything about them - and she's a little afraid of finding out what symbol she bears on her own back.

At mealtimes she scarfs down her food as quickly as possible, afraid it's going to be taken from her. At night she's reluctant to sleep, instead just curling up on her side on her mattress and willing the night hours to pass as quickly as possible, as it's then that she finds the memories of her own world and her haunting guilt impossible to avoid.

[ I'm happy to write either prose or brackets. My test drive prompts are here, or hit me up on the CR meme or at viridianwings to plot, I'm happy to set up a separate starter for your character. ]

out in the yard

[sunshinehan]

It's been a few days since the new arrivals started trickling in, enough to nudge Majima out of his self-depreciating mood at least a smidgen because he can't help but be curious or to have to talk to some of the more chatty prisoners. It's not really a bad thing considering how easy it is for his mind to go down into the dark places. It doesn't mean he's quite ready to accept it.

However, if there's one thing that can catch and hold his attention for more than two seconds it's a person in distress more than himself. At first his curiosity just has him watch from afar. But after a day or two, he realizes that the girl isn't getting much better, she isn't adjusting to the new situation all that well. Not that he can blame her. Most people don't expect to get kidnapped out of the blue one day much less end up in a jail on a completely different planet from where they originated. It didn't help that some people were pulled right out of distress from their own world and life back home. For all he knew, she was still in shock from something completely unrelated.

Either way, he felt a tug towards her. Helping someone else was always a damned weakness of his that he couldn't quite shake. And women and children that weren't used to such bad scenarios particularly pulled at his heartstrings.

So one day as she sat curled up in the courtyard, watching everyone else move about like a mouse ready to get gobbled up by something larger, Majima made his way over towards the same wall as her. He kept a comfortable amount of space between them but soon he was sprawled out on the ground in a similar manner with his back against the wall but one leg stretched out and the other only half bent just so he could rest an arm there. He didn't look at her when he spoke, instead keeping his one good eye out on the crowd (though he did specifically sit on her left side so he could see her out of the corner of his eye). It was obvious he wasn't talking to anyone else though, and (hopefully) not just to himself.

"First time in a dungeon I take it," he said casually as if it wasn't his first (spoiler: it actually wasn't). "It's kinda hard, huh. Trust me though it could always be worse. You're doin' a fine job keeping yer head down and not drawin' too much attention to the guards at least so that's good." He cocked his head to one side, still not quite looking at her. "Maybe not so much the prisoners though. A little too hopeless lookin' there. You gonna be all right, little missy?"

[souille]

She's kept an eye on him while she's been trying to work out whether the prisoners that are bigger and stronger than her are likely to hurt her or not. With the way he deliberately leaves the space between them, doesn't make eye contact to imply he's not a threat, Abigail feels reassured enough to put him into the second category for now, though she doesn't let her guard down.

She shrugs at his question, honestly not sure what it would take to make her all right. "I mean, I'm still alive, right?" She even sounds uncertain of that. "Any tips on keeping it that way?"

[sunshinehan]

"Hmm. Stayin' alive's the easy part."

He finally glanced her way but didn't make eye contact. It wasn't that he was meek but rather that he was only judging her appearance for a moment. And still making it obvious he meant her no harm.

"Keep clear of the guards, don't start fights with the other prisoners. But that's all obvious stuff, ain't it? There's more to survivin' than all that if ya really want it. So the question is, what do ya want while you're here? To stay alive or to survive while you're at it?"

[souille]

Abigail takes a moment to consider the question. There's a part of her that feels she should stick with what she's been doing, keeping her head down and making herself as invisible as possible. But she knows it's probably only a matter of time before someone tries to take advantage of that, and she'd have no way to defend herself. She's determined to leave here in one piece, and she'll have to do more than the bare minimum to be assured of that.

"Survive. But I'm not exactly built for this kind of place."

[sunshinehan]

"There are other ways to survive... it's just a matter of whether you're willin' to take 'em or not. Ain't always pleasant."

If it sounded like he was implying things, well, he might very have been. Might as well have been. He didn't sound cruel when he spoke; if anything he spoke quietly, subdued about it, as if it disgusted him to say it. He certainly didn't want it. He was just being truthful about things.

Then his pitch changed entirely. It broke two octaves higher than it seemed possible for his deep voice and yet sounded perfectly normal, cheerful even. "Unless ya find a better way ta be useful! Ain't nothin' stoppin' ya from makin' it yer own way, little missy. Just remember that when ya get down, yeah?"

Then back down an octave. "I'm just sayin'... don't let anyone ever tell ya what ta do. I can give ya advice if ya want, but that ain't gotta be the be-all, end-all."

[souille]

It wouldn't be the first time she'd done unpleasant things to ensure her own survival. Abigail feels a twinge of guilt as she reflects on that, knowing she should be glad that her actions in her own world have prepared her a little for the life she'll have to face here, but instead just feeling resentment that she's unable to shake off her past and start over in a new world.

"I'll do what it takes. I'm just not sure exactly what that would be yet, especially since magic seems to be a real thing here."

[sunshinehan]

"Ah, yeah. Little unsettling learning 'bout stuff like that," he said, referring to her mention of magic being real here. He was in a similar boat on that topic. "Not really used to that being real but I've seen it work. Not just how we got here, but an acquaintance from the topside showed me what he was learnin'."

Which could be useful. It was something to consider for when he got out of prison. He didn't really think of it as an 'if' because that way of thinking wouldn't do him any good. Besides, he'd done a stint like this before and gotten out alive against all the odds so he was confident he could do it again. This wasn't even as bad by comparison.

"...there's always more than one way to skin a cat. But, you know, it's mostly us out-of-towners here in these dungeons so maybe it ain't gonna be as all bad as I make it sound."

There were some really nice people here as strange as it sounded. And many of the welcomed showed an interest in helping out those that were less lucky upon arrival here.

The cells

[gardienne]

[Eponine's not much too look at. The oversized prison uniform hangs lankly off her emaciated frame, the top ripped from when Eponine and Susan had stolen sweets from the guards. Her hair is tangled around a dirty length of red ribbon, and she spends most of her time sat by the cell bars with her head in her arms.

Abigail might notice the guards being rough with Eponine - glaring, muttering, checking their pockets as they drag her out - and perhaps with good reason, for she's become known for her quick fingers already. But Abigail doesn't know that.

It's in the quiet of the cell when Eponine makes her approach. She sits down next to Abigail whilst the girl's eating.]

Why are you eating? What is the point?

[She traces her finger over the sign embroidered on Abigail's uniform.] You must be a bad'un, Miss. They gave you the hang man. It means they're gonna kill you, you know?

[souille]

[ Abigail shrinks back as Eponine sits next to her, nervous that she's going to take what little food she has. She's about to argue back, but when she hears what sign she has on her uniform, something she's been afraid of even looking at, she blanches instead. ]

Why bother keeping me alive at all, then?

c/w for execution method discussions

[gardienne]

To make you wait. Can you feel death, Miss?

[Eponine narrows her eyes as she eyes up the food. Eponine's starving. She's always hungry, no matter how carefully she nibbles her bun to make it last. But Eponine's used to being hungry. She's gone days without even a morsel at home. Taking it off Abigail, though, would prove a point.]

They will put a coarse rope about your neck and hoist you to the air until you strangle. It's slower than a drop, you know?

[souille]

[ She's had death hanging over her for so long that feeling its closeness in this place had seemed the one normal thing about being here. Still, as Eponine describes it a shiver runs through her, and her hand automatically goes to her throat, rubbing gently at where the rope would be, just above the scar she's tried to conceal. Perhaps her crimes deserved death, but she'd take the drawn out American judicial process over the summary execution presumably waiting for her here any day. ]

They have to give me a trial first.

[gardienne]

No they don't. That's stupid, Miss.

[Eponine gestures to the bars.]

To be locked up, you need a crime, yes? That is how it works? Now me, I am rotten. I know so. I have done that which'd have my head on a basket, or swinging as you shall. But not here. And yet, in France, where I am bad, I am free, and here, where I have done nothing except be pulled from that pool, I am as condemned as you.So what makes you think that this place, what locks you and plots to kill you for no reason what we have done here, will give you a fair trial?

[She shakes her head scornfully.] Stupid.

[souille]

[ She resents being called stupid and for just a second the fear that's so evident on her face turns to anger for just a second. ]

Unless they decided to condemn you for things you did in France.

[ She'd assumed that was how it worked, that she'd been imprisoned because of everything that had happened back in her own world. ]

[gardienne]

[Eponine’s own expression sours to match Abigail’s.]

And how should they know what I have done? I haven’t told nothing to them. That stupid man just looked in a book.

[She shrugs]

It don’t matter you know? No one never wants me and that’s okay. But not to lock me away. That is stupid.

[souille]

Out of everyone in your world, they picked you to come here. Of course they know what you've done.

[ Abigail has absolutely no idea, but the theory makes as much sense to her as anything else here. ]

[gardienne]

So why would they pick a criminal like me? There were good men there. Monsieur Enjolras should have shouted for equality. It is all he does. His friend, Monsieur Grantaire, he would drink to death. Monsieur Marius would have been perfect here. He should have been kind… perhaps.

[She scowls.]

They should have taken the police men. Javert and them. Locked him up here, or used him as a guard. Pah.

[She spits on the floor.]

He were so rough when he arrests. He twists your arms up before the manacles go on, and on the ankles and he makes you walk to the jail. A horrid man, that one.

the cells (vaguely tdm-continuation?)

[impressionism]

Hennessy's trying and failing to sleep for, oh, the hundredth time this week. Her body doesn't know how to do it without a safety net of her own choosing, and this supposed dampening of magic sure as hell isn't it. There's no way to be sure.

She hears the other girl shifting about in similar sleeplessness and rolls over to face her.

"What do you say we work something out? Sleep in shifts, maybe? If one of us seems like we're having a bad time of it, the other wakes them up."

It's not foolproof, but "wake me up every twenty minutes" isn't something she's willing to ask of anyone who isn't an alarm clock.

[souille]

Abigail's eyes are red and raw from her lack of sleep, accentuated even further by just how pale she looks with her general nervousness here. Nevertheless, sleep still refuses to come to her - or at least, when it's tried to she's stubbornly done her best to remain awake, terrified of ending up with a shiv in her back the moment she lets her guard down.

Of course, there's nothing to stop Hennessy from doing just that, but if she's willing to put herself in a similarly vulnerable position with Abigail then she's just a bit less worried about agreeing.

"That might work. I don't mind taking the first shift."

[impressionism]

Hennessy isn't looking much better. She's grabbed catnaps here and there without dreaming, but she doesn't trust the lack of magic down here any more than she trusts its presence back home. It's beyond her control, and that's not something Hennessy can risk. Not when one wrong dream ends her and possibly pulls the Lace out to wreak whatever havoc it likes in one fell swoop.

She looks Abigail over, taking in her general wariness. It's good to be wary. Means she'll stay alive, probably.

"I should warn you, I suppose. Get it wrong and best case, I die. Worst case, I die and something escapes my dreams that'll make you wish you had, too."

[souille]

Abigail just stares at her as she tries to work out whether she's joking. When it's clear she isn't, she just looks even more bewildered.

"So how do I not get it wrong?"

[impressionism]

The honest-to-god truth is that Hennessy has no idea how to do it less precisely than her own habit. Her only saving grace is that magic really doesn't seem to work down here, so she decides to drop the cynicism down maybe half a notch for the sake of not immediately alienating her cellmate.

"Normally I just have my phone wake me up every twenty minutes, but I doubt that kind of precision is required since they shut my magic off."

She half-eyerolls at the word magic, because one shitty power that only half-works isn't enough gift to make up for the threat it carried.

[souille]

More magic. Abigail's expression is more wary now, as though she expects her to click her fingers and set her on fire. It's difficult enough to accept that it's a real force here, and she can't help but feel a little jealous that others brought here with her have experience of it themselves.

"I could count to twenty minutes and then give you a shake."

Focusing on that would keep her awake, at least.

[impressionism]

Hennessy doesn't like the feeling of being indebted to someone else, but she supposes the other option is risking a messy death for them both. It tends to be motivating.

"If you really don't mind. I'll owe you a favor, because my job's easier. You can ask me to paint something for you if we ever get out."

She's not sure how it'll work if they get out and end up back in their own worlds, but this girl looks like she's from a normal Earth, at least. Maybe they can just text each other.

[souille]

Her brow raises considerably at that offer. She'd been fine with doing it anyway, knowing they needed to look out for each other here, as no one else would, but she's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Wow, okay. That's a pretty nice deal."