He heard the voices dimly in the back of his skull as he felt his cheek hit a cool, damp surface.
The nausia was less prominent now, and he could breath more easily.
The moment the quieting voices became silent, he heard a womans voice, but only her voice. He couldn't make sense of the words, the world, the fact that such a silly myth had ended the mage up in jail.
"Sir, hello..are you awake?"
He heard it again, as hands rested on his shoulders.
Her hands weren't very large, but her nails were long, and painted black. Presuming to see another witch, with a haggled appearance, he rolled over and peeled his eyes open.
Absolutely wrong. When he opened his eyes he didn't see a single mole, nor wrinkle. Just even, lily white skin, and glimmering amber eyes. "Oh, good, you're alive."
She smiled a little more grimly, giving him a light, or not so light, slap on the cheek. "I was worried. My last cellmate died the other day." He blinked twice, then hefted himself up to a seat, wondering how such a pretty lady could be so crude and irreverant.
"Wh...wuh..?"
He said, incoherently, wondering if her prettiness was a spell. Not necessarily, he decided on, since he was pretty damn handsome himself, and it was just from good geniology. What was he thinking..? He didn't even know this woman was a witch.
"Oh no, you're not normal, are you? You're one of those...those..'special' people, aren't you?" She said, frowning darkly and reclining slightly against the wall.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing.
"No, god, I'm not." He said, half mumble.
"Oh, good."
He rolled his eyes as she pulled her damp hair behind her fragile little ears. "What's your name then, sir?" She said, a hint of mockery in her tone towards the mysogonistic 'Sir' she interjected.
"Noah." He said, melacholicly, eyes scamming across the cramped, ugly little cell that he shared with some obnoxious lady that he found himself disinclined towards.
"Ah." Her eyes looked to her nails as she clacked them on the prison floor rythmically.
After she failed to introduce herself, he decided that he'd play this game a tad longer and oblige.
"What's your name..?" His voice was soft, but her hearing was keen, and she prefered people who didn't blabber around as though they thought the world gave a shit what they thought. "Medusa. Medusa Gorgon. But around here, my name is Medusa Nurse." She said, smiling and forcing a look of innocence.
"Ah."
He said, playing off her previous lack of acknowledgement. Frowning slightly, she returned to picking at her cuticles.
"So what're you in for?" She said, avoiding eye contact.
"Convicted witch. Or mage. Or wizard, whatever your preferance."
"Ooh, me too!" Looking at him, her smile spread darkly.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"Guilty..?"
He paused, lilac eyes betraying nothing.
"Absolutely."
"I think I like you, Mister Noah."
Smirking, her voice leveled in tone.
By the end of the day, he liked her aswell. She was just as intellectual as he was, and evidently, just as guilty. The stories she told him about her and her two sisters conducting elaborate spells in their fathers home, the way she gestured dramatically, the way her smile twisted and darkened as she rambled, it was oddly endearing.
Silently listening, she found herself inclined to the mage aswell. He heard her stories, didn't interrupt, but added comforting comments that encouraged her ramble, the way he'd nod without a word; and something about his dull purple eyes screamed out to her that neither one of them had any intention of being hanged on Gallows Hill.
Though guilty, and though convicted, something in them had no intention of going down silently. Something in them was the same, though it may have just been in their race.
"...Noah..."
"Yes?"
"I'm not willing to die."
"...I know."