Irithyll was a very unsettling place to be, but the dungeons were even worse. Using a combination of Spook and Hidden Body, the mercenary managed to sneak by the jailers. He only stopped upon noticing an unhollowed woman trapped in a cell. Upon a closer look, he found he recognized her. "Marylin..." he muttered.
Air to breath was heavy. Mold. Mixed with stingy sweetness of damp. Odor of death. White, now stained blouse was now the all she had. Stripping her out of her identity, her uniform, her belongings, humiliated with a walk of shame her braid cut off with a knife that left a stinging, now dried scratch. The days had passed, the hollows now unknown girl remained quiet. Everyone was – but those already lost their sanity. No one wanted to raise the interest of the wardens. She had learnt and they lost the interest. It had been days, wait, weeks? No, it had to be longer. Curled to the most bottom corner of her room, as far she believed the burning iron wouldn’t reach– there their gazes wouldn’t reach. Every step made her body tense without even giving it a thought. Covered in dirt she tried to chameleon against the filthy wall, like a prey animal.Closer… She could feel someone was behind the bars, watching.
No. Not another tour- Leave me alone!
Jarrod… A timid gaze, nothing like hers was before. Agony reflecting in eyes behind the pain caused by old and fresh wounds. A dark figure, against the dim light of torches. Could it be… This time. Could anyone enter in a place like this? No… she had been too hopeful. Too many times. The wardens; gave false hope to all of them, opening cells as rescuers- leaving keys… eventually chasing them from hallway to hallway. A sick game. Before she didn’t answer their calls, she didn’t run to them anymore. She would wait in her open cell until they would come and get her.
But it was Jarrod’s voice! He called for her! It couldn’t be one of those whispering women– No. It had to be a creation of her mind- for she had believed to hear her master in next cell. The mumbling of the hollows- it had started to take a form words, voices of people she knew. “ Jar-o…d…? ” Fragile movements pulled her closer the bars, careful, for invisible stakes and burning iron. Closer the figure that resembled the little bit of what she had.
@wanderer-among-undead