Zayid arrives with a supply delivery for freia's area and the slight trifling is called down to help unpack.
A certain old man winks at Zayid from the group, then disappears around a corner.
Zayid narrows his eyes slightly as he sets down a heavy barrel of something or other, then glances around to see who might be watching. With a quick hand motion beckoning Freia to follow, the young man walks purposefully toward the corner where the older man disappeared.
"...?..."
You find the old man in a small alcove on the rock. He is leaning up against the wall like you're meeting like old friends on the street.
Well hello there, young man. Nice to see you again.
Zayid tries to come up with a witty reply, but he's too tired to think. Instead he just gives a nod of acknowledgment and waits for the older man to continue.
You two have finally made your way to where the real magic happens. Where Criminals are purged of their impurities in the purifying fires of Labor. How do you like it?
Zayid shakes his head and chuckles softly. "Doesn't seem to be working on you," he replies with a hint of a mischievous smile. "Or me, for that matter."
"What do you propose, then?" asks Zayid after a pause.
"I glued my fingers ..." The somewhat neutral statement was underscored by a yawn.
As the conversation continued, she perked up a little. "Wait, if one goes against the Sorrows - and win - wouldn't one simply leave?"
[occ]Are you waiting on me? [/ooc]
Zayid frowns. "So you... I mean they... aren't going to release everyone... what, then? What's the goal?"
Reck stirred on his rude straw mattress. Day after day had passed in this dark hole, though using "day" as a unit of time only rubs in the total lack of sunlight. "Work" would suffice as a measure of this durance, as it came regularly and in plentiful quantities.
The prisoners housed here, beneath the deep foundation roots of Below, quickly learn the routine of their new life. Sometime before what surface dwellers know as "dawn", a bowl of porridge was deposited in each cell. No chance to grab a hand through a door port - the provisions were whisked in by magical means. Tasteless, but filling, the twice-daily bowl was just enough to sustain a man for a day's hard labor. No doubt, the food was carefully calculated for that effect. Extracurricular activity would soon beggar an inmate for calories, and the whips of the Tear workmasters showed no mercy for those who paused from exhaustion. Why waste resources on heavy security when simple starvation prevents uprising? Cruel, but efficient.
Two words that sum the Tears up, thinks Reck.
After eating, Reck and the other prisoners were collared, manacled, and trooped into the mines. Carefully delineated work quotas enforced by whips - and worse, when required, the whispered words of Abraxas - keep the work progressing. Each day, Reck mined sixteen tons of granite from the bowls of the fortress. Each day, Half-mast Pete carried those sixteen tons on his back into the darkness. To where? For what purpose?
Impossible to speculate. Meaningless information. Answers can be had later - for now, just survive
Truth be told, survival wasn't hard. At times, a chunk of meat found its way into Reck's food bowl. His cell is easily the best of this row, above the stink from the other cells and the midden, and graced with a faint breeze - a pale imitation of the salt sea air so badly missed, but just enough to keep an ember of hope kindled.
Today is different, the first break in the routine since Reck had been unceremoniously dumped into the cell following his capture. Too early - a rattling at the door. The doors were never opened before feeding. This is a special visit.
Reck feigns exhaustion as he listens to the door lock rattle softly. He cannot contain his surprise when a familiar face stares back at him out of the dark corridor.
Noro
Slowly, Reck brings his finger up to his lips, cracked and caked with stone dust. He points to his eyes, then his ears, then gestures at the cell around him.
watch your words, there are listeners
"Uhm... Maybe maybe if there is a good chance ..."
Noro tries to hide a smile as she takes a seat on the floor in front of Reck.
You, ahh, you doin alright? Treatin you alright?
it is evident that Noro is trying to hide her concern, she feels a bit responsible for his situation.
she tries to keep conversation simple, taking heed of Reck's warning.
"Livin'" says Reck with a shrug, leaning back against the rough stone wall on his mattress. "Cuttin' an' diggin' tons o' stone every day's keepin' my back strong. 'aven't seen sun nor sky since yeh 'auled me in 'ere. Grub's ok an' regular. Tears ain't stingy about 'ealin us up when we get 'urt. I'd rather be on th' seas, but ain't too bad fer now."
Reck narrows his eyes and cocks his head slightly, uncertainty visible in his expression.
He's only silent for a few seconds, but when he speaks again it's with a quieter, less challenging tone. "We'll... think about it," he concedes tiredly, before turning to get back to work.
He chuckles to himself and pushes off the wall. A couple of steps lead his out of the small alcove and out of sight.
She approaches you, no, glides over to you and breathes a sigh of relief. Thank all the goes you are here, Halsanna. I could use a trusted hand. These pick pockets and thieves need work, but aren't permitted to mine yet. Please tell me you need help here.
Noro gets closer, placing a hand on his cheek. I'm shorry thish had to happen to you. I tried my besht to get you better treatment.
there is some concern in her eyes, something is troubling Noro.
maybe, I could arrange for more visitsh. maybe you could come up and vishit me, if it was shafe.
"Wouldn't mind that," allows Reck. "Been a minute since I've seen th' sun. Ain't no snug cove down 'ere, but I'm still breathin'. That's somethin', yeh did good enough. Don't see 'ow you'd get me topside without th' Tears flayin' us both, though. Yeh've got some kind o' pull on 'em, at least. Maybe they need someone's 'ead cracked? Put one o' those bloody masks on me fer good conduct?"
Reck completely misses the subtle message but seems agreeable enough.
Noro smiles a familiar wicked grin. sitting a bit closer, she lays her head on Reck's shoulder.
all this girl flirting stuff was not her style, but she hoped it would work. besides, If Reck ever said anything Noro would rip his tongue out.
Noro whispers to him,
Reck, that good deed jusht might be eashier than you think. There ish a divishion among the tearsh, shome believe that the prishionersh are being ushed to shtart shome kind of rebellion. perhash you could help. work your way among the prishion gangs.
"If'n there's one thing I've got th' savvy fer, it's gettin' in wit' gangs o' hard men," replies Reck in a whisper. "Yeh want me t' join up with a gang down 'ere in th' work-camps an' see if a Tear is plottin' rebellion?"
Freia, you return to work to find that your work detail going at it with vigor. Several sport bloody stripes on their back and one lies convulsing on the ground and being pointedly ignored by the rest.
"It won't feel good, but probably better then this I suspect. Lay still for a bit ..."