**Hey there! Thanks, ButterTardis, for all your nice reviews - and for being so dedicated to Doctor Who! To everyone: this chapter's a bit longer than the others, I think, but the language is more frequent and naughtier ;)! It had to be done, though, to build the characters and create the mood. Enjoy!
Every time a rooster came into my cell, I would carefully examine the colour of their eyes. Not a single green one. Twelve blue eyes, seven grey ones, nine brown ones and two black ones, but not a single one of them as green as Loren's.
But waiting for a vulture is rather tiresome. Soon, I'm back to thwacking against the floor to make myself pass out, just to get through the hours. It's not long before that has occurred three times, each event marked with three lumps on my poor little bonce. Well, maybe not poor. It's been through a few scrapes, this noggin.
In fact, when Loren does get his turn to do all the stuff that prisoners get done to, I'm in the middle of trying to achieve unconsciousness.
"My lady, I am extremely sorry for the delay."
I look up far too quickly. Instantly, I feel my temples pulse and my brain swirl. Loren does somersaults right in front of my eyes. I have to bunch my legs up to my head to stop myself fainting; and right when I needed to do so, too!
"You feelin' okay?"
"Guess," I mumble sarcastically, letting myself fall back when the throbbing has died down.
Now, then, if there's one thing that I really didn't have to see, it was what I saw when I raised my head.
"Bloody hell!" I choked, both hands flying to my mouth, "What happened to you?! Is this the reason for the so-called 'delay'?!"
Prepare yourself. The bloodless skin on his face is gaunt, mottled and bruised, a waterfall of cascading dried blood has frozen is time on one side of his face, while on the other side he has several black eyes overlapping on the same eye and a slash mark running down his neck. And if you can't picture that, then just don't try to.
He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck with his similarly injured arm.
"I'm not gonna say it was no biggie. It bleeding hurt-"
"Literally," I butt in angrily.
"Yeah, literally, blood everywhere. But, em, it was all in good cause," he tails off lamely.
I don't want to press him, not in a state like this, and I have wanted a 'human, relatable and actually talkative' pheasant to talk to for AGES, but…
"What cause? Save the rainforest? Liths-in-need?" I splutter, forgetting about my splitting headache as I manage to get to a stand (the ropes were off since the start of this chapter, I'm not a mage or anything like that).]
"Ladies-in-need. I wasn't heroic; I didn't know I'd get into any sort of bother over it, but … that apple. The fact I stole it … and gave it to the woman who took out five Eagles … didn't pay off well."
Suddenly, I'm running around the room like some elf possessed, raging and fuming like … well, like some dwarf possessed.
"Idioooooot!" I exclaim, hopping as if the slimy floor is made from hot coals, "Idiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiot!Whatinthefuckwereyouthinkinyouassholeyougottorturedandbeatenupandupandupjust'causeyouwantedtogivemeableedingapplethatI'dhavebeenpperfectlyfinewithoutgaaahandIthoughtyouweresmart … no, I didn't think you were smart … you passed out when I did as much as talked to you …"
"Oi!" Loren flushes red in embarrasement, "I hit my head off solid rock, okay! Not from socialisation!"
"I've been trying to do that all f*cking day! You knock yourself out like a pansy!" I bellow with all my might.
He's about to retort. But suddenly, there's a deafening CRASH and the twenty-five-daggered guard bursts in.
"Stone! What the hell's happening in here!?" he demands, looking so murderous that if looks could kill, Loren would've died three minutes ago.
"Nought! Just teachin' this scamp a lesson, but y'know, she ain't nothin' to waste it on. Through one ear, out the other. I've done my rounds, so I'll go do some trainin' in the grounds," Loren says roughly, picking up an entirely different accent when talking to the guard; is this so that he fits in better with the others? He talks way softer with me. That kind of cheers me up. Guilty instantly floods me; I've just shouted him down, possibly earned him a whipping, because he's beat up. I'm the idiot.
The guard scowls at me.
"For once, you're right, Stone. She's a right bitcher, this one. Killed five of us Eagles, y'know! Bloody menace," he growls. Anger replaces the guilt quicker than a heartbeat – how dare he insult me like that!
He's already outside, though, along with Loren. No parting words, no anything, nothing to praise me for mucking up the thing I've been waiting for for so long. Yep. That's me. I'm an idiot.
Three seconds later, I'm banging my head so hard on the floor that I black out fast.
In the bowl, there's a grapefruit.