who: @benblvckwood when and where: semi flashback, a bustling side street in lannisport, lined with elegant stone townhouses and vibrant market stalls. she finds herself in a lesser-used storeroom filled with dusty tapestries and supposedly cursed items and, without realising it, manages to lock herself inside the lower level of the storeroom.
naelys had never felt more out of place in her life. a woman of noble blood, standing in the dust-filled basement of a forgotten shop in lannisport, of all places, in a room brimming with relics that had seen better centuries. this wasn’t her world—this musty little storeroom, the forgotten tapestries, the strange trinkets that gave off an unsettling air of antiquity. she had thought it would be quaint, just a quick stop for some idle amusement while she wandered the busy streets of the city, waiting for marcella to be finished with whatever it was she was doing.
but now, she was locked in. she had been poking around, mindlessly trailing her fingers over dusty, ancient fabrics, when the door had somehow shut behind her with a soft click. one small, harmless push. she hadn’t realised the latch had caught until it was too late. her heart had leapt into her throat the moment she tried to leave. there was no response despite how much she banged on the basement door, how much she insisted that something was wrong with the door. and now she was here, standing on a rickety stool, her fingers pressed against the iron bars of a small window, peering out into the world she couldn’t reach.
what if no one could hear her? was the shopkeeper was gone? asleep, or worse, dead? had he died somehow? how long would it be until someone found her? the panic swelled in her chest, twisting like an iron band, no doubt because of the dark stuffiness of the basement room and the dust she continued to breathe in. the strange objects looking at her only inflamed her sense of panic. she tried to swallow it down, but it only made her throat dry, her palms slick against the bars. she was faced with the boots of passers by, the hooves of animals, and the dirt on the streets of lannisport. it made her push back a gag.
she let out a shaky breath, the sound of bustling market life outside the storeroom doors strangely distant. voices, the clink of metal, the murmur of pedestrians all seemed muffled, as though she were sinking deeper into something she couldn’t escape. “hello?” she called out, but the words seemed so small, so desperate, even to her own ears. she hated the way her voice quivered, the way it trembled with rising dread. “can anyone hear me? i—i’m locked in here!” there was little use in trying to shake the iron bars, though over the sound of the wagons and the loud chattering and the sound of the flutes, she could audibly hear her voice drowning.
her breath hitched as her eyes flicked to the dim room, half-expecting one of the objects to come to life and mock her for her predicament. she caught her reflection in a dusty mirror, her wild hair and pale face, and wondered how she'd let herself be trapped in such a ridiculous situation. “hello-hello? i need help!” she tried again, her voice slightly more firm this time, though she could feel the panic bubbling beneath. she stood taller, the wooden stool creaking dangerously beneath her, and tried to peer through the small window at the world she had thought she could easily walk back into.
and then—through the bars—she saw him. a man, with dark, unruly hair, standing just outside the shop, a casual air to his stance as though he didn’t quite belong to the city either. he was probably just passing through, perhaps a traveller or a nobleman on his way to somewhere important.she was sure she had never seen him before, but she found herself banging on the iron rails and increasing the loudness of her voice. “you there!” she called, waving her hand frantically, her voice much louder now, a sharp contrast to her previous hesitance. “can you hear me? i—i need help!” her words felt thick and clumsy in her mouth, the embarrassment heavy in her chest. she wasn’t used to pleading. to asking for help. it felt so… vulnerable. but there was no other choice. the helplessness made her stomach twist painfully.
“please,” she added, almost breathlessly as he finally met her gaze, a look of confusion crossing over his features. “i’m locked in here.the shop keeper knew i was down here, i don't know where he's gone...the door, the door is broken and he won't respond.”
