[The rustle of Alphinaud's movements brings her somewhat free of her heightened state of anxiety; he is looking away. Which she can't argue with, seeing as she gave him permission. Perhaps it stings merely because being here is difficult.
Who was she convincing, with her certainty that this could not touch her without her say so?
The memory wavers, and for a moment she thinks it will be blessedly short. With the edges as dulled as her mind was then, and perhaps the lights will simply dim, fade, and vanish...
...But those approaching have come for her, not that the insensible memory on the ground has any useful knowledge to that effect. Krile, the real one, backs away with a hard swallow and stony glare as two armored and helmed guards unbar the door, come inside, and lift her from the floor.
They mutter to one another while they work, and here at last is a small blessing, for she does not recall nearly all of what they said. Something grudging about the cell not killing her or they'll have their heads mounted instead.
A hazy corridor, well-lit this time in the same sapping artificial white; a large room full of crates, boxes, bodies. Canisters, the like of which could hold a full grown Roegadyn man with room to spare, all stacked in an array around-
And it goes there, completely. Whether it is Krile's lapse of memory or some final fortune is anyone's guess.
There is precious little upon which to lean, nearby; her staff is not quite stable enough, but to give in and sit upon the ground would prove an undoing she shall not contemplate, and not in Alphinaud's presence, whether he cared to open his eyes again or no.]
no subject
Who was she convincing, with her certainty that this could not touch her without her say so?
The memory wavers, and for a moment she thinks it will be blessedly short. With the edges as dulled as her mind was then, and perhaps the lights will simply dim, fade, and vanish...
...But those approaching have come for her, not that the insensible memory on the ground has any useful knowledge to that effect. Krile, the real one, backs away with a hard swallow and stony glare as two armored and helmed guards unbar the door, come inside, and lift her from the floor.
They mutter to one another while they work, and here at last is a small blessing, for she does not recall nearly all of what they said. Something grudging about the cell not killing her or they'll have their heads mounted instead.
A hazy corridor, well-lit this time in the same sapping artificial white; a large room full of crates, boxes, bodies. Canisters, the like of which could hold a full grown Roegadyn man with room to spare, all stacked in an array around-
And it goes there, completely. Whether it is Krile's lapse of memory or some final fortune is anyone's guess.
There is precious little upon which to lean, nearby; her staff is not quite stable enough, but to give in and sit upon the ground would prove an undoing she shall not contemplate, and not in Alphinaud's presence, whether he cared to open his eyes again or no.]