05-08-2018, 08:51 PM
Hecate awoke once again, her head was in a lul, she had had nothing but a single piece of moldy bread. How long had it been? Five? Six days? Everything was a blur already. Cracked lips bled every time she opened her mouth to offer a snarky comeback. Even the guards visits were less and less frequent. Still the feeling of aloneness did not sink in, her conversations with the other her took up nearly every waking moment.
Her wrists were both rubbed raw, muscle exposed to the harsh iron. Rust colored blood, long dried covered her arms as they hung from the chains suspended above her.
Her clothes had been destroyed, shredded by the multitude of devices that had already feasted upon her flesh.
Again the door opened filling the room with light for a mere moment. A slender figure blotted out the light, the shape a pale contrast to the larger more heavyset guard Hecate was used to.
"Who are you?" She found herself asking weakly. "who is even in control now?" She thought to herself, the distinction between the two personalities was blurred even more than her vision.
A haughty voice filled the stone dungeon as a blond haired stepped into the musky confines of the prison cell. “Your worst nightmare.”
Hecate winced as a resounding slap echoed off the walls. The stinging pain brought back a small smile to her disheveled face. “You've got to do better than that.” A hoarse reply came from dry vocal chords.
The wordless reply came swiftly as even in the darkness Hecate could see the glimmer of steel, her eyes waiting for the warm embrace of that steels loving touch. A forced fistfull of hair drew her head up exposing her vulnerable throat. “Come on!” The desperate cry found its way into being.
The short blade found its target as Hecate’s head went limp, the hold on her hair severed by the blade she clung so desperately for respite. Silver white hair fell to the muck covered ground
Hecate's hope dashed she hung her head, the hold on her chains loosened, unsteady she toppled to the floor.
“Food” the woman spoke finally the sounds of her boots on stone and the closing of the thick door, leaving only a silver tray in her wake.
The stress relieved on her shoulders was a comfort that even Dark Hecate enjoyed. The achy joints and constant gnawing in the pit of her, had really taken a toll on her. Even if she was unwilling to admit it.
The food had given her enough to regain her thoughts, the stale bread and water did just enough to help her regain enough clarity to put focus on the most important goal. Escape.
The same female guard came to visit the next day this time bringing with her a hot iron, the cruel red hot glow of the poker hungered for flesh, it was not starved. The lingering smell of burnt meat filled the poorly ventilated room, even then it made the hunger pains all the more worse.
The holes in her thighs burned, the poker had been used in a manner she had not expected, being forcefully pushed through the muscle of her upper legs. The ferocity and aggressive nature of how this new guard treated her put fire to Hecate's starved loins
She almost began to look forward to seeing the woman. Almost.
And just like that she stopped showing up, Hecate's heart hung, once again no one came, food and water became scarce again.
“Someone? Anyone?” She called out desperately hoping to draw the ire of a guard. The silence was deafening. “Please” she called out begging for someone to show up.
“Hello again little bitch!” A masculine voice spoke towing over her limp form. A heavy boot to the side followed by another. The jarring pain shook any clarity she possessed as the room spun around her. “Time to go. She felt tension on the chains binding her as the bulky guard began to pull, dragging her along as she lay on the stone.
As her focus came back she could see other doors, each presumably to another prison cell, shouts and curses came from some, others were dead quiet. Her side hurt, the flesh rubbed off from being dragged along the stone pathway. The sunlit doorway in the rapidly closing distance seemed like a fairy tale as she was dragged outside.
Leering faces filled with lust at her nearly naked form laced her vision as a dark realization hit her
These were not elves.
Her wrists were both rubbed raw, muscle exposed to the harsh iron. Rust colored blood, long dried covered her arms as they hung from the chains suspended above her.
Her clothes had been destroyed, shredded by the multitude of devices that had already feasted upon her flesh.
Again the door opened filling the room with light for a mere moment. A slender figure blotted out the light, the shape a pale contrast to the larger more heavyset guard Hecate was used to.
"Who are you?" She found herself asking weakly. "who is even in control now?" She thought to herself, the distinction between the two personalities was blurred even more than her vision.
A haughty voice filled the stone dungeon as a blond haired stepped into the musky confines of the prison cell. “Your worst nightmare.”
Hecate winced as a resounding slap echoed off the walls. The stinging pain brought back a small smile to her disheveled face. “You've got to do better than that.” A hoarse reply came from dry vocal chords.
The wordless reply came swiftly as even in the darkness Hecate could see the glimmer of steel, her eyes waiting for the warm embrace of that steels loving touch. A forced fistfull of hair drew her head up exposing her vulnerable throat. “Come on!” The desperate cry found its way into being.
The short blade found its target as Hecate’s head went limp, the hold on her hair severed by the blade she clung so desperately for respite. Silver white hair fell to the muck covered ground
Hecate's hope dashed she hung her head, the hold on her chains loosened, unsteady she toppled to the floor.
“Food” the woman spoke finally the sounds of her boots on stone and the closing of the thick door, leaving only a silver tray in her wake.
The stress relieved on her shoulders was a comfort that even Dark Hecate enjoyed. The achy joints and constant gnawing in the pit of her, had really taken a toll on her. Even if she was unwilling to admit it.
The food had given her enough to regain her thoughts, the stale bread and water did just enough to help her regain enough clarity to put focus on the most important goal. Escape.
The same female guard came to visit the next day this time bringing with her a hot iron, the cruel red hot glow of the poker hungered for flesh, it was not starved. The lingering smell of burnt meat filled the poorly ventilated room, even then it made the hunger pains all the more worse.
The holes in her thighs burned, the poker had been used in a manner she had not expected, being forcefully pushed through the muscle of her upper legs. The ferocity and aggressive nature of how this new guard treated her put fire to Hecate's starved loins
She almost began to look forward to seeing the woman. Almost.
And just like that she stopped showing up, Hecate's heart hung, once again no one came, food and water became scarce again.
“Someone? Anyone?” She called out desperately hoping to draw the ire of a guard. The silence was deafening. “Please” she called out begging for someone to show up.
“Hello again little bitch!” A masculine voice spoke towing over her limp form. A heavy boot to the side followed by another. The jarring pain shook any clarity she possessed as the room spun around her. “Time to go. She felt tension on the chains binding her as the bulky guard began to pull, dragging her along as she lay on the stone.
As her focus came back she could see other doors, each presumably to another prison cell, shouts and curses came from some, others were dead quiet. Her side hurt, the flesh rubbed off from being dragged along the stone pathway. The sunlit doorway in the rapidly closing distance seemed like a fairy tale as she was dragged outside.
Leering faces filled with lust at her nearly naked form laced her vision as a dark realization hit her
These were not elves.