WHO: Alexandrie, Athessa, Bastien, Barrow, Derrica, Nell, and Poesia WHAT: A Very Riftwatch Summer Vacation WHEN: Late Solace WHERE: Churneau, Occupied Orlais NOTES: Violence cw etc. Bunch of details here.
"My poor dear," Poesia sighs. It perhaps sounds sympathetic, she would hardly know. Words are poison and she drips them slowly into the ears of companions and tormentors alike. "Hush, my poor dear, you must let go."
It's the words she heard when she writhed on the ground, the dragon's blood burning it's way down her throat, the visions overpowering. She hasn't a clue who said those things to her.
"No," Barrow gasps, and realizes he has no idea how much time has passed since his last thought and this one; it's always dark down here, it could've been seconds or hours. Days. He struggles again and wails again, trying to relax but completely unable to do so, with his muscles constantly on alert. There's nobody even here anymore, at least that he can tell-- he's just been left here like this, forgotten.
"You must," she says and it's almost gentle, even if the gentleness isn't hers. She couldn't say where it is from, only that it's not hers. "Come along now, bunny, we shan't be dying here."
"Please stop," he begs, his voice breaking-- there's that name again, and it hits him in all the wrong ways, ways that fray what's left of his resolve.
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It's the words she heard when she writhed on the ground, the dragon's blood burning it's way down her throat, the visions overpowering. She hasn't a clue who said those things to her.
"You mustn't fight it, dear."
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He struggles again and wails again, trying to relax but completely unable to do so, with his muscles constantly on alert. There's nobody even here anymore, at least that he can tell-- he's just been left here like this, forgotten.
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