The Wind with a Scottish Accent
The bronze columns of the gate rise smoothly out of the ground. A solitary figure staggers forwards into the dust-filled arena, hands cuffed behind his back. "At least the weather is nice," Sheppard notes audaciously, squinting at the robin egg sky. He quickly inventories his surroundings. The section of the coliseum he is in is roughly the size of a circular football field, encompassed by towering stone walls. Above the walls reside a horde of leering spectators. A silhouetted panel stands separate from the crowd.
A woman steps up to a podium adjacent to the panel, raising an exotic looking hand. A low susurrus runs through the crowd and dies out, leaving the amphitheatre motionless. "The tribunal has reached a decision," she declares. "They shall now speak."
The crowd murmurs and falls silent again, waiting expectantly. A central figure in the panel rises and addresses the defendant. "The jury has found you guilty. Your punishment has been determined." He pauses, contemplating Sheppard, before continuing. "You shall be annoyed."
A few gasps escape the crowd before it hushes once more. Sheppard stares at the magistrate in disbelief. "I shall be annoyed?" he says, letting out a bark of laughter. "I shall be annoyed at what? Your verdict? The fact I had to go through all this just for that?" He flicks his hair out of his eyes, daring the court to continue. The magistrate merely beholds him pityingly.
Sheppard snorts in derision. "Seriously?"he says, shrugging a shoulder to dislodge a fly. "If that's all, can you at least take off these cuffs? They're beginning to chafe a bit." The scene before him remains an inanimate tableau.
"Come on guys, my nose itches, and I'm not flexible enough to reach it with these on." He receives no reply apart from a sea of impassive stares. This is getting old pretty fast, he thinks. Not a word from anyone. Only the wind is talking to me, and all it does is whistle. Whistle whistle whistle. It even somehow manages to whistle in a Scottish accent. I didn't even know that was possible. Maybe it just reminds me of bagpipes. Yeah, that's it, the wind sounds like bagpipes. Good god. It's also blowing a pretty rank smell down here. Hasn't anyone on this world invented deodorant yet? I think that fly bit me too, because my shoulder now itches like hell. I think this is the only time I've ever wished to have a bigger nose, because then I could scratch my nose and shoulder at the same time. Isn't anyone going to say anything, or are they all just going to stare? I feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Hopefully I don't catch fire like one too; it's getting pretty hot here. I'm sweating like a sauna full of naked old men. Now there's a mental image I could have gone my whole life without. STOP LOOKING AT ME! Damn this infernal itching! Whistle whistle whistle. I bet these cuffs are going to leave a mark. Standing still isn't going to help me out of this, but I can't think with the racket that wind is making. And this itch! I swear it's spreading by the second. I can't even tell if it's the dripping sweat or the smell that's making my eyes water. Probably both; I can taste the salty bitterness. Why am I still here! Whistle whistle – itch itch –whistle itch….
"LET ME GO!" The deafening report of his own scream makes him flinch, failing to ease his agitation. The observing beings remain inscrutable.
"Damn you-" he declares, striding forwards. He smacks his face off an invisible object.
"Around this way, Sheppard!" A blessedly familiar voice calls as the object sheds its cloak to reveal itself as a puddle jumper. Friendly hands pull him in and alight the ship before the stunned onlookers can react.
"I thought I told you to go back through the gate without me," he growls, without real malice.
"You know we would not leave you behind. You would have done the same for any one of us," Teyla admonishes him.
"So, what were they going to do with you? I always try to picture the worst thing possible, and then it's never worse than I think." Rodney babbles as he jimmies open Sheppard's cuffs. "Were they going to force feed you lemons?"
"Nah," Sheppard replies, glancing over at Rodney. "They said I had to spend eternity with you."