05-03-2018, 05:51 PM
Hecate opened her eyes once more, this time pain racked her body as she attempted to rub her stomach. She heard the familiar sound of metal clinking together as she felt pressure apply to her wrist. "This again?" she said with slight irritation in her voice. Her eyes took some time to adjust to the new lighting, and her body was still heavy from blood loss. Her wounds had been hastily stitched closed and coated with a paste of some kind. Yes she was a captive, once more. "Ironic." Hecate's voice carried far in the dark, it’s nonchalant sound drew who she assumed was her captor towards her.
"Do ye know why ye are here?" The Elven man spoke with a mocking tone as he watched the silver haired maiden hang limp from chains.
Hecate smiled with cruel intent at the man who was used to this kind of treatment
“You primes all think that you can just do as you desire, without any consequence. Well whoever you are… your reign of terror ends now.” The elf spoke with authority in defiance of her attitude
Hecate held her head high against the weight her condition gave her, the stitching on her midsection stretched against her as she twisted her body to glare hatefully at the man.
“You underestimate me..” She hissed back vennom spilling out with every word. Even in her weakened condition the fire and lust that filled Hecate’s dark side was evident. “You will make a great addition to my trophies…” Her voice echoed in the dungeon.
The elven guard just smiled in reply waiting for her to finish. “You know, you primes can come back to life. That is why you will not be executed, instead I want you to understand this, for the next thousand years you shall sit in this dungeon, rotting. Never to see the light of day again. So please, by all means keep your resolve, I can't wait to see what happens once you snap like the worm you are.” The guard said as he pulled the torch from the wall and left without waiting for a reply from his prisoner.
The sound of the dungeon door closing was the last thing Hecate heard from the guard.
“It's a fine mess you've gotten us into isnt it.” She heard herself whisper.
“Oh shut up you, it's better than hearing you dole on about chess, yeah stupid fucking chess.” The reply slipped out of her mouth.
“At least I didn't nearly get us killed.” the docile side whispered again.
“Keep fucking talking and I can make sure I change that.” Dark Hecate spat out, ire filling her words.
Hecate knew she needed to keep her strength up especially knowing what was coming, it only made sense. Closing her eyes she left her body dangle in the chains, the thick iron shackles bit into her wrists as she attempted to sleep.
Cold water rushed her back into focus as it splashed over her body drenching her tattered bloodstained uniform. Her blood red eyes opened up and stared into the light of another torch. The same guard as before stood before her, an empty pitcher in hand.
“Looks like you've wasted your water for the day, too bad.” He said with a sneer as he looked at her.
Hecate knew getting pissed off at the man would make her feel better now but in the long run she needed to make sure she stayed as low key as she could.
She closed her eyes once more as she once again went limp, the shackles again bit into her wrists, she could feel the iron already rubbing her skin off. It wouldn't take very long for the blood to begin to flow from the sores. Either way eventually they would have to take her down. And when they did, they would rue ever crossing her path. A thin smile crossed Hecate’s face as she once again forced herself to sleep.
The second day was not any easier, there was a gnawing feeling in Hecate’s insides as hunger began to set in, Apart from the water that had jarred her awake the first time, the guard had not yet returned. Her eyes had adjusted to the light in the dungeon, a small crack in between the door and the stones making up the floor gave just enough light to illuminate the room.
It was a fairly standard dungeon, chains other restraints seemed to be scattered with very little regard for the space, in fact the very lack of cohesion seemed to trigger Hecate’s anger. Pain in her wrist stopped her from thrashing around any further. Almost as if beckoned by the sound of the chains, the guard opened the thick wooden door, Hecate stole a glance down the wood lined hallway, the guard in charge of her had very little in common with the sentry that her and the boy had captured.
“I hope they haven't found him.” She thought to herself as the idea of the elf wasting away in the same exact predicament brought a laugh up from the darkest parts of her soul.
The guard presented her the pitcher of water forcefully pouring it down her face, Hecate struggled to gulp down two mouthfuls of the cold water as it washed down the front of her uniform. The guard didn't waste any time to talk to her, and to be quite honest she had already had enough of his voice to last ten lifetimes.
Another day gone, Hecate was finding it harder and harder to sleep, her desire to spill blood was slowly taking hold on her, her anger and rage acting as catalysts for the crimson flow to follow.
Hecate once again was awoken by the guard, on the third day it was not water or words but the sting of a whip that opened her eyes. Her uniform padded her back from much of the blow,even still it hurt. The pain however only brought a smile to her face. “More” she said to the guard behind her, who did exactly as she asked bringing the wip down across her back with even more force, the leather strips bit into the cotton fabric of her uniform shredding it and leaving a deep gash across her back, Several more strikes followed suit leaving her pale flesh dripping red.
Heavy breathing filled the dungeon as the guard wrapped the long leather whip back up and strode out the room without saying a word. The whip lashes had hurt, but the sensation was one Hecate and long forgotten, one she almost missed.
The taste of iron filled Hecate’s mouth, an unfortunate side effect of the lashings she had just received, her internal injuries had not even begun to start healing, reopened by the force of each lash. Hecate swallowed down the metallic flavored fluid with a smile. Hoping for even more intense experiences yet to come.
She stayed awake all night waiting.
The guard did not show up, not for water not for any punishment to be dealt out. The silence was more irritating than anything. Even the other her was keeping quiet, content to let her suffer the result of her selfish actions.
Another day passed, dehydration slowly began to set in, Hecate’s lips were dry, her throat sore from the lack of hydration. This was a pain Dark Hecate did not enjoy, her insides grumbled, desiring food, needing food. “So much for not wanting me to die.” She whispered aloud as she closed her eyes yet again.
The sour scent of urine filled her nostrils once again, the guard was back. Hecate was glad to see someone, even the man she was going to rip apart.
The sound of bodily fluids mixing with the water in the pitcher was all that could be heard in the witches ears. “Still thirsty?” the guard asked, his expression one of victory as he offered the pitcher to Hecate's mouth. “Drink up murderer.” He said, his smile one of similar nature to her own. A clear challenge to her. “Not the first time I've gone thirsty, you pig.” She said weakly as she kept her mouth closed and turned her head down. The sound of ceramic on stone was audible as the guardsman set the putrid pitcher down. Malice filled his eyes as he stared her down, the scent of honeyed Mead on his breath. “Keep acting high and mighty you little bitch, you'll break… they always break.”
Hecate smiled knowingly. “Something can only break so much.”
"Do ye know why ye are here?" The Elven man spoke with a mocking tone as he watched the silver haired maiden hang limp from chains.
Hecate smiled with cruel intent at the man who was used to this kind of treatment
“You primes all think that you can just do as you desire, without any consequence. Well whoever you are… your reign of terror ends now.” The elf spoke with authority in defiance of her attitude
Hecate held her head high against the weight her condition gave her, the stitching on her midsection stretched against her as she twisted her body to glare hatefully at the man.
“You underestimate me..” She hissed back vennom spilling out with every word. Even in her weakened condition the fire and lust that filled Hecate’s dark side was evident. “You will make a great addition to my trophies…” Her voice echoed in the dungeon.
The elven guard just smiled in reply waiting for her to finish. “You know, you primes can come back to life. That is why you will not be executed, instead I want you to understand this, for the next thousand years you shall sit in this dungeon, rotting. Never to see the light of day again. So please, by all means keep your resolve, I can't wait to see what happens once you snap like the worm you are.” The guard said as he pulled the torch from the wall and left without waiting for a reply from his prisoner.
The sound of the dungeon door closing was the last thing Hecate heard from the guard.
“It's a fine mess you've gotten us into isnt it.” She heard herself whisper.
“Oh shut up you, it's better than hearing you dole on about chess, yeah stupid fucking chess.” The reply slipped out of her mouth.
“At least I didn't nearly get us killed.” the docile side whispered again.
“Keep fucking talking and I can make sure I change that.” Dark Hecate spat out, ire filling her words.
Hecate knew she needed to keep her strength up especially knowing what was coming, it only made sense. Closing her eyes she left her body dangle in the chains, the thick iron shackles bit into her wrists as she attempted to sleep.
Cold water rushed her back into focus as it splashed over her body drenching her tattered bloodstained uniform. Her blood red eyes opened up and stared into the light of another torch. The same guard as before stood before her, an empty pitcher in hand.
“Looks like you've wasted your water for the day, too bad.” He said with a sneer as he looked at her.
Hecate knew getting pissed off at the man would make her feel better now but in the long run she needed to make sure she stayed as low key as she could.
She closed her eyes once more as she once again went limp, the shackles again bit into her wrists, she could feel the iron already rubbing her skin off. It wouldn't take very long for the blood to begin to flow from the sores. Either way eventually they would have to take her down. And when they did, they would rue ever crossing her path. A thin smile crossed Hecate’s face as she once again forced herself to sleep.
The second day was not any easier, there was a gnawing feeling in Hecate’s insides as hunger began to set in, Apart from the water that had jarred her awake the first time, the guard had not yet returned. Her eyes had adjusted to the light in the dungeon, a small crack in between the door and the stones making up the floor gave just enough light to illuminate the room.
It was a fairly standard dungeon, chains other restraints seemed to be scattered with very little regard for the space, in fact the very lack of cohesion seemed to trigger Hecate’s anger. Pain in her wrist stopped her from thrashing around any further. Almost as if beckoned by the sound of the chains, the guard opened the thick wooden door, Hecate stole a glance down the wood lined hallway, the guard in charge of her had very little in common with the sentry that her and the boy had captured.
“I hope they haven't found him.” She thought to herself as the idea of the elf wasting away in the same exact predicament brought a laugh up from the darkest parts of her soul.
The guard presented her the pitcher of water forcefully pouring it down her face, Hecate struggled to gulp down two mouthfuls of the cold water as it washed down the front of her uniform. The guard didn't waste any time to talk to her, and to be quite honest she had already had enough of his voice to last ten lifetimes.
Another day gone, Hecate was finding it harder and harder to sleep, her desire to spill blood was slowly taking hold on her, her anger and rage acting as catalysts for the crimson flow to follow.
Hecate once again was awoken by the guard, on the third day it was not water or words but the sting of a whip that opened her eyes. Her uniform padded her back from much of the blow,even still it hurt. The pain however only brought a smile to her face. “More” she said to the guard behind her, who did exactly as she asked bringing the wip down across her back with even more force, the leather strips bit into the cotton fabric of her uniform shredding it and leaving a deep gash across her back, Several more strikes followed suit leaving her pale flesh dripping red.
Heavy breathing filled the dungeon as the guard wrapped the long leather whip back up and strode out the room without saying a word. The whip lashes had hurt, but the sensation was one Hecate and long forgotten, one she almost missed.
The taste of iron filled Hecate’s mouth, an unfortunate side effect of the lashings she had just received, her internal injuries had not even begun to start healing, reopened by the force of each lash. Hecate swallowed down the metallic flavored fluid with a smile. Hoping for even more intense experiences yet to come.
She stayed awake all night waiting.
The guard did not show up, not for water not for any punishment to be dealt out. The silence was more irritating than anything. Even the other her was keeping quiet, content to let her suffer the result of her selfish actions.
Another day passed, dehydration slowly began to set in, Hecate’s lips were dry, her throat sore from the lack of hydration. This was a pain Dark Hecate did not enjoy, her insides grumbled, desiring food, needing food. “So much for not wanting me to die.” She whispered aloud as she closed her eyes yet again.
The sour scent of urine filled her nostrils once again, the guard was back. Hecate was glad to see someone, even the man she was going to rip apart.
The sound of bodily fluids mixing with the water in the pitcher was all that could be heard in the witches ears. “Still thirsty?” the guard asked, his expression one of victory as he offered the pitcher to Hecate's mouth. “Drink up murderer.” He said, his smile one of similar nature to her own. A clear challenge to her. “Not the first time I've gone thirsty, you pig.” She said weakly as she kept her mouth closed and turned her head down. The sound of ceramic on stone was audible as the guardsman set the putrid pitcher down. Malice filled his eyes as he stared her down, the scent of honeyed Mead on his breath. “Keep acting high and mighty you little bitch, you'll break… they always break.”
Hecate smiled knowingly. “Something can only break so much.”