There is some Trigedasleng, I have no concept of how to speak it, except for some odd words. So some of them will be combined and warped to fit what I want to say:P. I will put a translation at the end. Enjoy!:)
A terrified scream tore through Clarke's lips as her hands, already raw and bloody from slamming them against the wall in frustration, gave the last of their remaining strength in one last, meaningless, hit.
Going by her instincts, she knew she had been trapped in this god forsaken box for approximately 2 hours, however it felt more like days.
The surrounding darkness was impalpable, her own hands remained hidden, even as they waved in front of her. The deep, frustrated panic was amped by her lack of sight, which was causing her imagination going haywire. The cold draft that was creating goosebumps and shivers along her body turned into foreign breath, a sudden loud creak belonged to movement from someone lurking behind her.
She had awakened in this unfamiliar location, immediately engulfed by the strong smell of oil, the unwelcome stench invaded her nose, almost painfully strong. She had immediately shouted for help and continued doing so until her voice ran hoarse and broken. Along with this, she was gripping something small and crumpled in her hand, it crackled like old paper and sweat made it stick to her palm, unfortunately that was just another thing which remained a mystery, as further examinations were deterred by the lack of light.
Fear and frustration built up and pain laced through her hands, she felt a sense of total hopelessness flow through her like a tidal wave. She was confused, lost, hurt and trapped. No way of escape seemed eminent and time continued to move as slowly as the room she was in.
Clarke slumped down heavily, curled in a muddled heap with her back to a cold, metal, corner. She curled her head into her arms, trying to turn her ragged, rapid, breathing into something more calm. She felt a hot tear roll down her cheek, and felt it's saltiness on her lips, it was a well needed spur back to reality and survival instincts were renewed with a burst of energy.
This is really happening.
Fighting of despair, Clarke tried to gather her thoughts and go through what little facts she knew, any piece to this puzzle that she could salvage. Her sight may have gone, but her other senses felt heightened, as if they were trying to make up for the lost sense.
From grasping at the sides, desperately searching for any form of escape, Clarke had determined that the space was about 10 steps in all four directions, she had stumbled over some unknown items and boxes during this discovery, leading her to the conclusion that she was in some sort of supply carrier, of course to what location or purpose she had no idea.
There was a constant sound of machinery surrounding her, almost like chains and cranks whirring together. Clarke let this information put her slightly more at ease, if she was moving then she must be moving towards something, preferably somewhere with light- and answers.
While she had been able to put all these details together, her memory was blank. It was as if the darkness surrounding her had sunk into her brain, unmercifully pulling out any personal detail. The one thing that remained was her name.
Clarke.
She had no concept of where the name came from, or who else knew it; parents, siblings, friends. All blank. She knew what they were, just like she knew what having her feet, buried in the soft sand of a beach, felt like, or the cooling feeling of waves lapping at her legs. Hundreds, thousands of memories poured through Clarke, items and objects and names and dates, but nothing directly relating to her. No people, no home, no last name. There was a dizzying ache in the back of her mind, accompanied with a deep feeling of anguish, every pore in her body was screaming, telling her something's missing.
A slight glow was permeating through the gaps in her arms, making her eyes widen, with a strange mixture of both hope and wariness. Slowly uncurling, Clarke took relief from finally being able to see her surroundings.
It was as she had expected, supplies laid scattered around in an unorganised heap and four solid, grey, stone walls closed her in. She noticed some blood stained the wall where she had been pounding with her hands and then looked at the tattered, throbbing, mess she had made of them.
Looking up with squinted eyes, to try and find the source of the very welcome light, she peered through the grate, which was her ceiling, and saw two pulleys moving, clearly the cause of all the loud, grating, metallic noise she had been hearing.
Knowing that all which laid between her and an unfathomable distance drop down were some unstable, rusted, looking metal chains didn't exactly help put her panic at ease.
Understandably, Clarke's heart then stuttered, when the box came to a sudden, wobbly stop, sending her flying heavily into the opposite wall.
She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, the force of impact driving her knee into her stomach, winding and taking the breath out of her body. For one terrifying moment, she couldn't breathe, and then all the air came rushing back at once, leaving her to raggedly draw in air. After a few more moments of sucking in air, presumably looking like a fish,Clarke sat up slowly, groaning in pain, already feeling bruises form along her side.
It was only after sitting for a couple of dazed minutes that Clarke realised her vision was blurry, and not just due to her eyes adjusting to the newly introduced light. She brought her hand up to the back of her head, where a relentless pounding made itself known, her fingers tentatively touched the area, and when she bought them back down to eye level, they were coated in blood.
Like a trained instinct, Clarke immediately began to list the symptoms of a concussion, even as her mind became more hazy and blurred.
Nausea? Check. Dizziness? Check. Vomit? No.
Naturally that's when Clarke's body decided to dispel all the contents of her stomach onto the floor next to her. She spat, trying to remove the bitter taste, to no avail, and the stench reached into her nose, making her want to puke again.
She slowly managed to crawl to the other side, hoping to escape the smell and save herself another stomach-wrenching bout of sickness, however as soon as she reached the opposite wall, her exhausted body collapsed.
Stay awake.
It came from the shadows of her mind, an echo of her lost memories. A knowledge within her, keeping her alive. All she had to do was listen.
However, every cell inside of her, was crying out for the relief sleep would bring. It was a fight between her rapidly fading willpower and her body. Her eyelids rooted for the latter as they dropped in front of her eyes, the dull pain, from the newly introduced light against her unaccustomed eyes, faded. Clarke's mind sunk further into the fog and she knew she couldn't fight her impending blackout for much longer.
She was startled into half opening her eyes, as the grate above her started to slide open and when she managed to peer up, there were dozens of people all staring down at her. Clarke mustered every single scrap of energy left inside of her, and uttered two simple words.
"Help me…"
Clarke groaned, pain lancing through her side, but it was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the god-awful throbbing in her head.
Confusion swam around her brain, sitting on it like a thick fog. She wasn't in the box any more, so where the hell was she? Slowly, she leant up on her elbows, enough to crane her neck and examine her surroundings.
She was in some thought of crudely made hut, twigs, branches and sticks all carefully intertwined together and she was wrapped in a sleeping bag, slightly elevated by a thin mattress. There were several more set ups, like the one she was currently lying in, in a row along the outside of the wooden room, but they were all empty. A small lamp was lit next to her, standing on a small overturned crate, creating a soft, almost comforting glow.
Not only that, but there were medical supplies stranded and scattered across the room, a few bandages and gauzes. Infact, there was a gauze wrapped around each of her hands that she hadn't noticed before, reasonably well wrapped.
So this was a medical room of some sort, Clarke concluded. But with that question answered, a dozen more filtered into her mind. Why was she here? How did she get here? Who sent her here? Who was looking after her? What are their intentions? Did they put her in the box? And first and foremost: Where are her fucking memories?!
Clarke stiffened when she heard the thump of footsteps getting closer and quickly pretended to be asleep, the dread of danger creeping into reality. Voices soon joined the presense in the room, Clarke strained her ears to listen, while trying not to be too obvious about it.
"Branwada awake yet?"
"Ridiyo ridmeize, dison."
"Hey, calm it with trig a little, please? Some of us, by which I mean me, have only been here a couple months."
"Maybe you're the branwada then?"
"Jok of."
"Learnt the most important phrases I see?"
"Hell yeah, swearing is the universal language."
"I thought that was math?"
"You're math!"
"Wow. How are your comebacks still getting worse?
"Shof op."
"Alright, alright, cool it, so what brings you here Octavia?
Clarke could almost feel tension rise in the room, and she fought the urge to swallow nervously. All of the unfamiliar words flowing easily in their conversation didn't help, it felt like part of her vocabulary had been stolen along with her memory. Disorientation filled every crevice of her being.
"Heda's getting angsty, wants an update."
A heavy sigh broke through the air, "We all know that I'm not exactly...qualified for this job. But from what I can tell, she suffered a mild concussion, hence the puke and blood. To be honest, she should wake soon, if she doesn't...well I don't know. As well as that, she has bruising all down her left side and she fucked up her hands. Probably from hitting the box's wall."
"We've all been there, guess hackfeis had it worse than most."
An unexpected laugh broke through the harsh tension that had settled heavily over the room.
"Hackfeis? She already has a reputation I see."
"Seemed appropriate, given the state she arrived in. Well I should go report back, thanks Echo."
"Sure, good luck with Heda, O."
A moment later Clarke heard a single set of footsteps retreating from the room and then another step closer to her.
She cautiously opened her eyes, fists clenched and body tense. A face filled her vision almost immediately, making her flinch back in fright.
"Well, well. Up and at 'em are we? Welcome to Polis, Branwada." A smirk, which barely hid clear relief, filled the stranger's face.
"Wh-who are you? Where am I? What's go-"
"Woah. Slow down. I get it, you're confused and hurt, and only know your name, we've all been there greenbean. My name is Echo, I'm the one who has been fixing up the mess you made of yourself."
Clarke tried to slow down her, rapidly increasing, breathing. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend what the fuck was going on.
"Okay, Echo, can you answer my questions? Please, I don't understand what's going on."
Echo sighed, "I think it's best for me to let Heda do that. She wants to speak with you as soon as possible."
"Heda?"
"Commander. She's the leader here. I'm just going to change your bandages and give you more antibiotics, some pretty nasty cuts you have here."
Clarke nodded her assent, she may not trust this stranger, and was fighting down every part of her wanting to run, but she figured the only way she was getting answers any time soon was to play along.
Echo busied around gathering supplies, while Clarke wriggled out of the sleeping bag and did a self-evaluation She was wearing a loose fitting blue shirt, cut off at the shoulders, with some jeans and her feet were bare. The clothing felt out of place and far to modern for someone currently lying in a hand built hut, made out of sticks.
Clarke looked down and felt a stand of hair in between her fingers. It was bright blonde, wavy and rested just below her shoulders, it felt like the first time she had ever seen it.
"Clarke." She spoke her name out loud, ignoring the curious look Echo gave her. Between the screaming and panicked questions, she hadn't had a chance to actually listen to her own voice. It was huskier and a bit lower than she had expected, not that she had anything to base her expectations from, her own voice was foreign to her ears- a disembodying experience.
She was startled out of her ponderings when Echo sat beside her on the mattress, "Clarke, is that your name?"
She nodded slowly, seeing no point in pretending otherwise.
"Okay, ku."
"Ku?"
"Means cool. We have our own language here, called Trigedasleng."
Clarke's frown probably did all her speaking for her, because Echo was quick to smile and continue.
"We don't know who put us here or why, but it can't be for anything good. So we decided if our...captors ever came back to get us, at least they wouldn't be able to understand. Plus we have to use up our free time somehow."
At the word captors, Clarke's body let out an involuntary shiver, fear racing up her spine. Maybe this girl and her people really were just as clueless about who took her.
Echo began unwrapping the gauze from her hand and gingerly removed the dressing, before rubbing an antiseptic cream onto it and then repeated the process with the other hand.
Clarke let out a low hiss, but otherwise didn't react, the pain a lot more manageable than it had been in the box.
Once Echo replaced the dressing and began to re-wrap it with the gauze, Clarke interrupted her.
"It's better to bring it diagonally from the back of my hand once you wrap it around my wrist and then to-"
"How do you know all this?" Echo was looking at her with shock written into her expression.
Clarke paused, pondering how to explain, but didn't Echo mention that they only knew their names too? Of course, Clarke still had no idea who the mysterious 'they' were, but all in due time, she hoped.
"I'm not entirely sure, it's kind of an instinct, like second nature. The knowledge is there in my brain and comes out when it needs to, but like with the rest of my memories I don't know why I know it."
Echo nodded slowly, before comprehension spread along her face, accompanied by a huge grin.
"You must have been a fisa or something! Weird, since you look quite young, but I'm not complaining! Oh this is great, Heda will be pleased."
Clarke blinked. "Huh?"
"We haven't had a healer here, it's been terrible for morale, as well as health of course. I have done my best, from skrish I read from what little books we have here, but It's been pretty limited."
Clarke raised her eyebrows, impressed despite herself. This teen had self-learnt all of her medical knowledge? (Not that Clarke knew if she herself had done the same or not) And judging by her own, vastly improved, condition- Echo couldn't be half bad.
"Well thanks for fixing me up."
Echo smiled, "Of course. Although you would probably do a better job yourself, here." She pushed the supplies over to Clarke and watched, fascinated, as she began to re-tie the gauze around her hands and head.
Echo then passed a (wooden) cup, filled with water to Clarke, who eagerly took it and gulped the welcome elixir down.
"I would grab you some food as well, but we should go see Heda now that you're awake."
At the mention of food, Clarke's stomach grumbled pathetically and she despaired at the thought of not being able to appease it. But the promise of her questions to be answered soon perked her up.
"So, where do we find this...Heda?" Clarke asked curiously.
"Right here," came a new voice. Both Clarke and Echo spun around in shock and there, lurking in the shadows under the doorway, for who know's how long, was an imposing figure, who stepped forwards after their revealing.
Ridiyo ridmeize, dison = Sleeping beauty, this one.
Jok of= Fuck off.
Shof op= Shut up.
Hackfeis= Puke face.
Fisa= Healer Let me know what you think) and if you have any questions, ask away!