Keeping her eyes closed at first, she opens one then the other, swallowing the bubble of panic that rises once she can see anything in the dim light. Lux isn't here and that's--
I sent him away, she thinks. She must have. He's smart, he would've-- but her head aches worse than after a long night of drinking. Her left wrist throbs angrily and when she looks closer, the leathers she's wearing are stuck to it with dried blood.
"Estás bien?" Her own tongue comes easier, but given how gently she asks it, it should probably be enough to get the point across.
The lockpicks are gone. And they were thorough in stripping her of everything so the necklace and earrings that are also actually lockpicks? Gone too. Doesn't stop her from trying; her fingers are only so good, and her aching wrist bleeds again before she gets anywhere. Even that isn't enough to let her slip a hand free though not for lack of trying.
Keeping track of her words becomes harder. The people that know Antivan or Spanish? It's easier for them to understand. When she slips back into her own tongue after the lyrium comes (she never thought something blue would frighten her, blue is the ocean, what reason has she ever had to fear that?) she curls in on herself. Mumbles a song under her breath when her breath doesn't come hiccuping out of her.
Three in all of Skyhold know the truth about Araceli. That she's more than just a thief and a pirate and a gambler. That she's spent the past year running around guarding her queen (fall out of the sky with no way to prove anything, not wanting to stand out more than you do and see how quick you are to go volunteering that detail) but she's talked about them all plenty.
And now she's looking around for them, fighting in the chains harder, staring down at herself, at everyone else in alarm--
"What the-- No. No no no, this is not-- Where are the others and who are you?"
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I sent him away, she thinks. She must have. He's smart, he would've-- but her head aches worse than after a long night of drinking. Her left wrist throbs angrily and when she looks closer, the leathers she's wearing are stuck to it with dried blood.
"Estás bien?" Her own tongue comes easier, but given how gently she asks it, it should probably be enough to get the point across.
The lockpicks are gone. And they were thorough in stripping her of everything so the necklace and earrings that are also actually lockpicks? Gone too. Doesn't stop her from trying; her fingers are only so good, and her aching wrist bleeds again before she gets anywhere. Even that isn't enough to let her slip a hand free though not for lack of trying.
Keeping track of her words becomes harder. The people that know Antivan or Spanish? It's easier for them to understand. When she slips back into her own tongue after the lyrium comes (she never thought something blue would frighten her, blue is the ocean, what reason has she ever had to fear that?) she curls in on herself. Mumbles a song under her breath when her breath doesn't come hiccuping out of her.
Three in all of Skyhold know the truth about Araceli. That she's more than just a thief and a pirate and a gambler. That she's spent the past year running around guarding her queen (fall out of the sky with no way to prove anything, not wanting to stand out more than you do and see how quick you are to go volunteering that detail) but she's talked about them all plenty.
And now she's looking around for them, fighting in the chains harder, staring down at herself, at everyone else in alarm--
"What the-- No. No no no, this is not-- Where are the others and who are you?"