His expression turned into a frown and he quickly started towards the dungeons, his brows furrowed. *** She gave a nod, following him.
The dungeons smelled bad. That would be the first thing that Ezekiel would notice. It smelled like rot and stale urine and forgotten lives. The dark was gloomy and unknown liquids dripped from the ceiling. It was silent when he entered. No coughing or shuffling feet came, the sounds of life distinctly absent. * * * (Zoop?)
The keys were hanging in the empty warden's office. He would be able to find them quite easily, moving through the cages. * * * A few weeks later, Charlie was in his quarters with Wren, prepping for the dinner with a frown.
He picked up the keys, going to look for Clara. "Clara?" he called softly, tilting his head. *** Wren was standing off to the side respectfully, waiting for him to get ready. "It'll be alright, Charles."
That silence was absolute until a small scuffling at the end of the row interrupted it. Hands - pale, trembling ones - reached out and clutched the bars. "...sir...?" * * * He glanced over at her with a frown. "There are few people I trust more than you, Wren. But... I don't know. I think you might be wrong."
He approached, peering in carefully and cautiously. "Hello?" *** She nodded slightly, tilting her head. "Very well, then. I'll do what I can to help."
She was standing there, looking terrified. Her eyes were wide and her hands were clutching the bars. Her golden hair looked dull in the gloom and she watched him, the intensity of her gaze never wavering. Her skirt was torn and her legs had cuts on them. "What are you doing here?" * * * "You always do," he said affectionately.
He observed her worriedly, quickly unlocking the cell. "I came here to find you. What happened?" *** She gave him a small smile before responding sarcastically. "It's my job."
She stumbled out, clearly bewildered. "They caught me dancing on the other end of the market," she stammered, her hands trembling. "How... I... Why did you come for me? You're going to get in trouble if you're caught..." * * * "And you do it so well," he replied primly, standing up.
"It'll be alright," he said, offering his arm. "Firstly, I've never been caught. Secondly, they can't really do much." *** She grinned at him, saying nothing.
She took his arm, looking around nervously. "I'm not going to complain. Can we leave?" * * * He sighed, straightening his vest. "Right then. To battle."
"Yes. Would you come to my room? I can tend to your injuries," he said smoothly, making sure nobody would see them. *** She nodded. "You look nice."
She looked over at him, her brow furrowing. "My injuries... I suppose," she said nervously. * * * He laughed embarrassedly. "Thank you, Wren. I feel dead inside."
He seemed more concerned about her, leading her back toward his room sneakily. *** She tilted her head. "This night won't last forever. I'll be in the room if you need me."
She looked around at the light, squinting in the brightness. The regality of the palace seemed to disturb her and she looked down at her bare feet, caked in dirt from the week in the dungeon. "I shouldn't be here, Ezekiel... I'm dirty." * * * "I might hold you to that," he said flatly. "I'll see you soon."
She frowned, but said nothing more as they entered his room. * * * He left, going through the doors and closing them behind him.
He shut the door behind him, locking it carefully. "There's a bath in that room over there," he told her, gesturing with his hand. He seemed genuinely concerned. "It might sting, but it's good to wash wounds." *** Wren went to the dining hall, taking her position by the door dutifully.
The locking motion seemed to make her nervous and she frowned, looking over at the bathroom. "Right now...?" she asked hesitantly, her voice soft. * * * Charlie entered and sat in his spot, looking uncomfortable. A few minutes later, a young woman entered. She had hair as black as a raven's wing and pale skin like snow, her high brow furrowed thoughtfully. Her gaze fell upon Charlie and she gave him a small smile. "Hello."
