His eyes were wide as he turned back into the bedroom, leaning against the wall. "El.. Ellie, wake up.." *** "What? Rude to him? Why?"
She didn't stir, her neck turned at an unnatural angle. * * * "Because he smells a little sometimes," he replied hotly.
He panicked, going over to her quickly as a worried look crossed his face. "Ellie? Ellie?" *** She laughed aloud. "Stinky? Wow."
As he moved over to her, he would see a dagger had been plunged into her side, blood soaking the sheets. * * * "I know, right?! He doesn't even smell that bad."
Footsteps ran towards their door and it was flung open by several guards. He would see their noses wrinkled at the stench of the alcohol, eyeing the broken glass in the wall carefully before their gaze shifted to him and Ellie. Upon realizing that she had been stabbed, their eyes widened and one of them ran forward, forcefully taking her from him, and the other yanked his arms behind his back. *** “It’s not even that bad,“ he complained. “He’s just old, you know? It’s not his fault that he sometimes has an extra buildup of gas.“
"It wasn't me!" he cried out. "I didn't do this!" He tried pulled away from the guards. "Please help her!" *** She laughed. "Smelly boy."
The guard that was holding Ellie took her away, leaving the room. The one that had secured his hands pulled a little rougher on them. “Sir, you’re going to have to come with me.” *** “Oh gosh, not you too,” He complained, glancing over at her as he shifted his weight onto his other foot.
He nodded hesitantly, watching her with intense worry. "Okay.. Okay." *** She grinned at him. "I still like him."
The guard brought him down to the dungeon, opening a cell for him. He gestured with his head, saying nothing. *** “He’s not that smelly.”
He began to hear the whispers around him from the other prisoners. “The princess...” *** He approached the market, setting his stuff down on the table.
“We don’t give information to newcomers,“ one of the prisoners said, coming over to the bars and wrapping their frail fingers around the cell. “That’s a right you have to earn.” *** he set out axes and swords, gently dusting them with the tips of his fingers to remove any extra smudges.
Xavier moved swiftly, reaching through the bars and grabbing the prisoner. "Tell me. Right now." *** She hummed under her breath, watching him work thoughtfully as she leaned against the table.
The prisoner's eyes widened as he batted at Xavier's hands. "She's... she's alive," he said hastily. "She's alive, but not regaining consciousness... she's in a coma... Why do you care?!" * * * He looked up at her. "Oh. Scarlet, I almost forgot. I have something for you."
He let go, his eyes dark. "I don't give information to strangers. I need to get out of here." He looked along the bars and walls, his brows furrowing. *** She looked up at him, her head tilting. "You do? What is it?"
The walls were solid concrete, with iron bars that encased him. "You won't be able to get out," the prisoner next to him said. "No one ever does." * * * He hesitated before pulling out a knife. It was a thing of beauty, the sheath around it made of glimmering silver, with vines of copper forming around it. Tiny rosebuds rested patiently, shining up at her. The handle was smooth and fit her hand perfectly, jewels that held moonlight in the creases winking at her playfully.
