The prison of the mind

[Argroww]

Ameena paced her cell, again.  Looking down she could see the grooves now in the floor, a testament to how long she'd been here.  Her own feet had made those grooves, feet that never wore out.

How many times had she rattled at the bars, to be heard by no-one?

She wasn't sure, she'd lost count....years ago?  Even that she wasn't sure of anymore, the passing of time in a windowless cell, the marks on the wall had lost all meaning, the constant nagging pain in her stomach a reminder that she hadn't been fed in so long that anyone else would have died and by what passing of time she could understand she should have died a very long time ago.

Her capture had been swift, by a vampire she was sure, one who already knew her blood was deadly to it, this had happened as she ventured through some town at night, she'd been looking for some new clothes, maybe some food, she'd been tired of eating things out in the forest and she was terrible at hunting, so she fell to scavenging, but unfortunately at the same time as a local vamp was doing some hunting of her own.  Her ability to self regenerate was astonishing, but even so, a hard blow to the head could still render her unconcious, and when she awoke she found herself here, in this cell.

At first the vampire, or one of it's minions would bring her food, not much, but enough to keep the starvation pains away, then suddenly the food stopped, no explanation.  As did the visits, no-one came, she shouted, made noise, tried doing anything and everything she could, but no-one came.

Now here she was was, countless days, if that's what the marks meant, she wasn't sure anymore, sometimes she even wondered if the marks were actually hers and not left by some previous occupant.  Some days she'd get lucky and a rat would visit her, part of her knew that what she did was disgusting, but she'd long ago stopped caring and just appreciated the brief respite from the constant pain in her stomach....but they were few and far between.

She could also recall she used to talk to someone....the face scratched into the wall, it had a name, but now she didn't talk at all, speaking to someone who never answered back got dull, so she just kept her thoughts to her head...sometimes she made noise, just for the sake of it, but as no-one answered maybe she was mute?

It was an idle thought in passing, as she paced again, having nothing else to do.

[Jelenis Tythe]

The young man woke up in a place that he knew from blearily opening his eyes he did not want to be.  There were no windows, the floor was made of stone as were the walls, looking to his aching head like they all blended into one.  He felt some sort of pain at his throat and as his fingers reached up lightly to investigate he felt two things, one was an iron collar, the other was a tender area and blood.

He had a vague recollection of displaying his pyromantic skills at a local fayre, it was dusk, and there was a good crowd watching him, his display had finished, he collected his coins, ready for something to eat and drink with the proceeds. He had started to walk towards the inn, someone approached, he had gone to pass by them and then nothing...blackness.

He felt distinctly cold, this he knew because iron had a nasty habit of suppressing his pyromancy, the fire kept his blood heated, even in the coldest of environments...but here he felt cold and he hated it.

He sat up slowly, there was a bucket in the cell, a shallow pan with some water and not much else.  There was no straw to lay on, but there was a stone shelf to one side.

The question that rang through his mind was why me? Why here? Why the underworld did they bite me?

Was he alone?  Were there other captives?

He finally plucked up the courage and called out.

"HEY....FOOD WOULD BE GOOD!"

[Argroww]

Ameena head a voice from somewhere in the dungeons, it was an echo.  Probably just another of the voices she always heard.

"Go away!, you're not real!" She shouted.

It was a futile gesture anyway, it's not like anyone responded to her cries, she'd long since given up calling out for food, what was the point.  She didn't care about the pain, she'd lived with it for more years than she could count, she was kinda used to it, like some old friend.

She paced her cell again, and for something to do she moved her pallet across the cell, it didn't achieve anything, and she did it almost every day, but it was something to do.

[Jelenis Tythe]

He hear it a faint reply from somewhere, from a woman, telling him was was not real and to go away.  He tilted his head, he had been called many things in his time but unreal or imaginary had not been one of them.

"BLOODY WELL AM REAL MISS!" He called back.

"PERHAPS IT IS YOU WHO ARE IMAGINED!"

He sat back and folded his arms across his chest with satisfaction at his retort, not that he was ever really one for swapping insults with others.  He had done it as a child, used rude words and got a walloping from his mother for it and learned quickly not to do it.  His mother, gods protect her soul, had been a real stickler for good behaviour.  He could see her face now frowning at the use of the word 'Bloody' to a woman.