@prcspero & @agnesisolda location: unknown notes: for the most recent prompt
The air was so sickly-sweet that it clung to the back of Diarmad's throat like spoiled honey. His limbs hung slack in the silken strands that bound him, but every breath, every twitch sent a ripple of pain through his body - the genath'asir was many things, had done worse but he wasn't a sadist - he was reformed to walk this path. To stand apart from the Dark One's influence, he should have known that it would come with consequences.
He had lost track of time, but he heard the tide overhead, smelled the ocean, saw the water as it dripped from the molded stones of the ceiling. The cold had seeped deep, past skin and sinew, curling around his bones, whispering something worse than death. Somewhere nearby, a ragged breath. A shudder. The faintest stir of movement.
He forced his head up. The web shifted slightly, tightening, biting. It took all his will not to groan. A genasi hung to his left, a druid to his right... Based on the woman's words, he'd understood that the man must be a darkfriend, and the woman had a similar thought to him. Their bodies, pale and trembling, were caught in the same gossamer chains that held him. His voice came rough, cracked. "Still alive?"
There were curses in this world that even he had not seen, but there were rumours from the Age of Darkness of Forsaken with the power to create something truly vile - but all things had conditions. "Whatever she asks, don’t say yes."