Some doodles and writing from a roleplay with Thema. The doodles take place after the post below, when he realizes there's something in his bag that's not supposed to be there.
-- Her abductors weren't good at math. Their common sense was limping along too. She'd almost died and nobody ever noticed. She'd kicked and wiggled and got lucky enough to get sorted before the timer ran out. Her prize was hot and stale air that made her feel like she was still suffocating, but she didn't move or try to make it better. The blankets around her head had picked up dumpy menace. If one of them changed positions, she was sure she'd die. Which bag? The brown one. Frantic voices. Somebody said wrong bag, but nobody ever opened the top looking for her (dumbasses, they might have found a cadaver). The bag lifted itself off the floor and walked away. Jacky waited for something to happen- for things to get worse -and nothing ever did. While she waited, she got increasingly unsettled. Who has me? You would like to think in these situations that you'll end up with a Good Samaritan. They'll open the bag and gape their mouth and stare, like they've turned a corner on a hike and found a man with a broken leg. They're suddenly in a hurry to help. Elated. Helping is prestigious. But sometimes people only help because there's consequences if they don't.
She had nothing but time to ruminate on it while they walked away from civilization and anyone who would hold her taxi accountable.
