Raggeyed/Windwake: Don't fear the reaper

-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] is tucked up in a cell, head down, hands and feet bounded by 69 shaped irons restricing his movement --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] The cell door opens, and a woman is tossed in with a few jeers about putting the trash with the trash. She's covered in wounds from various torture methods, but her eyes show that her spirit has yet to be broken. She hits the ground hard, coughing up some vivid indigo blood. --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] the cell door slides shut and is locked --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] is now face down on the ground, with her hands and feet bound in chains. Can't seem to find the energy to get herself out of this rather uncomfortable position. --
HH: ...'Ey, *cough* someone there? Mind lendin' a poor injured girl a hand there *cough* mate?
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] looks up with cold eyes, irises coloured in red, and makes no move --
RO: injured girl, why does she intrude on a deserters solitude
HH: *cough* Well, didn' 'ave much o' a choice.
HH: Sorry t'bother ya though, friend.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] laughs, coldly --
HH: M'be ya could *cough* jus' kinda nudge me onta my back 'r somethin', s'I *cough* can try an' sit up?
RO: an injured girl needs a lowly deserter for help here in this place?
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] stands up, chains rattling, but doesn't move closer yet --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] makes a feable attempt at shruging, shuddering from the pain. --
HH: Well since we're apparently cellmates 'ere, I was thinkin' it might be nice ta get a look atcha.
HH: An' quite frankly this isn't th' most comfortable position...
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] laughs coldly again --
RO: and frankly a deserter has looked better
HH: So's a Traitor, hehehehe--*cough*
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] limps over and awkwardly tries to get a hold on her to lift her up --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] winces in pain, but leans on him and lets him move her --
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] it's difficult work constrained as they are, but he somehow manages to prop her up on the bench --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] leans back against the wall, panting --
HH: Th-thanks, mate.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] tilts his head, expression blank --
RO: an injured girl is comfortable?
HH: Comparitively, yeah.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] smiles at him --
HH: S'what're ya in fer, mate?
-- ragamuffinOutlook's [RO'S] finger's twich, as if grasping something, like someones neck for example, but he puts his hands down --
RO: a long time
RO: and a long list of crimes
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] nods --
RO: theft, murder, desertion, piracy, gang, arson, impersonation of a highblood, member of an outlawed gang, being too handsome
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] smiles --
RO: maybe some others a deserter forgets about
HH: Hahaha, sounds like I'm talkin' t'quite th' dangerous criminal 'ere.
RO: and proud of it
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] chuckles and coughs --
RO: and an injured girl is a traitor? is that all there is to it?
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] Smiles ruefully --
HH: Yep, guilty of Treason of the most Unholy Motherfuckin' Degree against the Holiest Church o' th' Mirthful Messiahs.
HH: Motherfuckin' Miracles.
RO: ha, a deserter is not a very religious troll
RO: does an injured girl still beleive in all that?
RO: are her messiahs in this cell with us now?
HH: Sure, nothin' wrong w'th' *cough* religion itself. 'S th' Church 'at I've a bone t'pick wit'.
HH: An' vice versa.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] nods to an obviously broken arm --
HH: Goin' abou' everythin' all wrong. Killin' too many trolls who've done nothin' t'cross 'em.
HH: 'Course, 'at's Alternia fer ya.
RO: yes, that's true
HH: An' tryin' t'change things gets y'thrown in one a these cells.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] sits on another part of the bench --
RO: funny, a deserter has killed plenty of trolls who had done nothing to him
RO: yet
RO: and he is here with you
HH: Hahaha, 'at's fate fer ya.
HH: 'Course, I've held the Murderer mantle m'self too.
HH: Done m'fair share o' pointless killin'.
HH: Jus' gotta look at all this Indigo I'm spillin' t'know what I've been.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] coughs --
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] laughs coldy --
RO: well a deserters blood does not usually let him get away with the things a murderer does
RO: before a deserter became a deserter he was a slave first
RO: then afterwards a vagabond
RO: and then a deserter again
HH: Sounds like ya've *cough* led quite th' life.
RO: a short one
HH: Might be ya've lived more 'n a lot o' Highbloods, mate.
HH: I fer one can't claim quite s'many titles.
HH: Murder t'Director, then t'whatever ya'd call me now.
RO: broken
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] Laughs --
HH: Only on th'outside, mate.
HH: Finished, more like.
HH: Finished wit' what I set out t'do all those sweeps ago.
HH: Passed th'baton on t'someone else now.
HH: Probably someone I'll never meet.
RO: unless that person is a deserter, an injured girl is probably right there
RO: he has been here a long time while others come and 'go'
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] nods --
HH: Yeah, probably only gonna meet up with one last friend 'fore I go.
RO: who's that then
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] closes her eyes and smiles --
HH: Death.
RO: an injured girl is lucky
RO: death would be mercifull
HH: Well, I've always been a pretty lucky troll.
RO: maybe she will get lucky at her trial
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] tries to keep a straight face --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] Looks very serious --
HH: Yeah, surely th' mirthful messiahs will shine down an' open th' hearts o' the trolls runnin' th' trial.
HH: An' they'll let me go scott free!
HH: ....
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] Burst out laughing --
HH: Hahaha*cough*haha...
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] laughs with her --
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] calms down --
RO: a deserter doesnt have to worry about a trial for a while yet
RO: they're keeping him
RO: in case they need more from him
HH: More what?
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] pauses, and drops his head slightly, laughter definitly gone --
RO: information of course
RO: on his ex-
RO: companions
HH: ....
HH: I see.
HH: No need t'say anythin' more then, I understand.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] gives her a brief, 'you too huh?' look --
HH: I've made some connection 'at the church would kill t'know over th' years.
HH: Or... Almost kill, heheh...
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] coughs some more --
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] gets up and goes and finds a spot in the corner to lie down on --
RO: they get you in the end
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] shrugs --
HH: We'll see. One thin' 'at comes from Indigoblood, I can take alot o' abuse.
RO: a deserter is sure an injured girl's kind can dish it out just as well
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] nods --
HH: No doubt.
RO: perhaps
RO: one last thing
RO: today, an injured girl can have her bench to sleep on
RO: tomorrow?
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] has leaned her head back and closed her eyes, opens one and fixes her indigo gaze on him --
RO: tomorrow might be different
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] turns his head and holds that gaze --
HH: Might not even be here t'morrow, but if I am, y'got yerself a deal.
HH: By th' way, don't think I ever got yer name.
RO: they call a deserter raggeyed
RO: and a long time before that, tinten ruthar
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] nods --
HH: An' I go by Windwake.
HH: 'Course, hundreds o' sweeps ago, they called me Celsei Lumiar.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] holds out her bound hands in some attempt at a handshake --
HH: You can call me Jesabell though, if ya'd like.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] looks at the offered hands with severe distrust, but after a point he lifts his own hands up to complete the awkward shake, irons jangling --
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] smiles --
RO: hundreds of sweeps? you don't look a day over twenty
HH: Another blessing of Nobility, mate.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] shrugs --
HH: Or a curse.
-- ragamuffinOutlook [RO] closes his eyes --
RO: goodday windwake
RO: as you say, it might be your last
HH: Sleep well, Raggeyed.
-- hospitablyHeartfelt [HH] Closes her eyes as well. Her breathing slows as she falls asleep. It's the soundest one she'll ever have. --