send ⛓️ to find my muse bloody, bruised and restrained
beatrice is very careful in her line of work, but even she can only outrun villains for so long. it’s painful to know she’s gotten caught - she can’t decide if the emotional damage to her pride or the physical damage to her body is worse at this point. the woman with hair but no beard and the man with a beard but no hair have been unkind in their treatment of the baudelaire matriarch now that they have their hands on her. chained up like a common criminal in a cell barely large enough to hold her. her wrists are bound with lengths of chain she can’t quite unravel and quite honestly, she’s seen better days. many, in fact.
shifting with a wince, she tries to find an escape. it’s what she’s been doing since she’d been dumped here and left to rot. there must be some escape - but for hours or days or however long it has been have yielded her nothing. no ideas with which to master a grand escape. her body is aching and she does what she can to keep wounds from opening up again. there’s dried blood along her face, beneath her nails – stars does it hurt.
it’s the noise that catches her attention, however. she leans forward against the bars to strain to hear. one set of footsteps. have they returned to finish her off? she thinks perhaps it might be preferable. but no - the stride isn’t right. and there’s only one. she holds her breath, waiting, staring, watching —
—-she nearly collapses in tears of relief.