Liz lost count of how many times someone was taken.
Tsubaki, then Soul, Patty, herself, Soul, Tsubaki, Soul, and on and on. There was no way of telling what time it was, how long they'd been down there.
They were handcuffed after the first time they took Tsubaki. Each of them were positioned just far enough that they couldn't reach each other, so even if one of them transformed, they couldn't do anything. They'd just be a piece of metal lying on the ground wrapped in chains.
Meisterless.
The door to their cell opened. The men brought in Soul, unconscious in their arms, and re-cuffed him in between Liz and her sister. They seemed to favor him and Tsubaki mostly.
Said chain scythe was still passed out from her most recent 'draining' on Liz's left.
Liz glanced at Soul and Tsubaki. They'd been put through at least twice as many drainings, looking so much worse than Patty or herself. A shiver of guilt crept up her spine.
"I don't know how much more they can take," Liz whispered when the door closed.
Patty didn't answer.
She thought about how much they probably missed their meisters. Soul had been so scared when he first woke up, only able to focus on Maka and what'd happened to her.
Liz sure missed Kid.
"It's been awhile since they've taken us," Patty said. "If they keep taking Soul and Tsubaki they're going to end up killing them."
Liz looked across the room at her sister. Since their capture, Patty had turned unusually emotionless, voice barely changing tone or pitch. Liz remembered this version of Patty a little too well. She'd learned it back before they came to the DWMA. It was her defense mechanism, her way of keeping herself safe.
Anger and frustration seeped into Liz's veins. She was supposed to be keeping Patty safe. So much of her childhood was already taken from her, she shouldn't have to deal with this.
Liz flexed her fingers behind her back, straining against the cold metal that dug into her wrists. If only they could get rid of these cuffs…
Their restraints furthered their separation from each other. It was already painful enough to be without their meisters, but now they didn't even have the comfort of their friends. She couldn't even hug her sister.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
What if she never saw Kid again?
The thought made Liz's chest ache. Though in the beginning Liz had only seen her meister as a way to keep a roof over her sister's head and food in her stomach, the quirky shinigami had, unfortunately, grown on her.
A lot.
She liked the way he brushed the strands of hair out of her face like it was normal. She liked the way he came down the stairs in the morning, hair ruffled, nightwear loose around his slender body showing glimpses of razor sharp collar and hipbones.
Liz liked the way he could make Patty smile, and she liked the way he could make her feel.
Something cold wet her knees and Liz realized she was crying.
Patty was the youngest, and sure, she liked to goof off and she never took things too seriously, but Patty Thompson was not stupid.
Lady Darcy was late. At least fifteen minutes had gone by since the draining was over. The henchmen should've come to bring her back to the holding cell by now.
But ten extra minutes was enough for Patty to gather up what little strength she had left, roll shakily onto her hands and knees, and adjust her vision to get a good look of her surroundings.
There was a small window on one of the cell walls, a glass rectangle among the black stone, quite out of place. She hadn't noticed that before.
Gritting her teeth, Patty crawled over to the wall and muscled herself onto her feet. When she managed to stand, clinging to the thin window ledge, she was out of breath and her knees threatened to buckle.
Ever so carefully, she peered into blinding light.
A circle of witches were gathered around a large table. Sitting at the head, Lady Darcy was fuming.
"What do you mean you were wrong?!" she demanded, glaring at her subordinates seated across from her.
"We… underestimated the amount of power held in their souls," one of the witches squeaked. "The harvest tanks are almost full and the subjects' soul energy levels are only at half."
Lady Darcy slammed her hand on the table. The others flinched.
"Well then figure. Something. Out," she hissed. "If we let the weapons go they'll return to the academy and report us. There's probably already a search team out so we have to move fast! Got it?! Get the soul energy. Get out."
"We could just kill them."
"And waste all of that power?" Lady Darcy practically shrieked. "Unacceptable. Do you not understand how special these four are? The harvest tanks are already full and they're still conscious. The power they hold is twice that of what we thought. Imagine, the magic we could do with all of that."
Feeling her own energy sputter, Patty sunk to the ground and tried to straighten out the random bits of information she'd gotten.
The witches were holding them in some sort of castle; definitely on the smaller side. The trips to the draining room were never very long, and from what she saw there weren't many other hallways leading elsewhere.
There was probably only one draining room because there was a shit ton of blood on the ground that couldn't possibly have been all from her, plus and remembered Tsubaki coming back with a head wound. Head wounds always bleed a lot.
Assuming they could get past the henchmen and the witches it would be a fairly easy escape. She imagined the castle wasn't any bigger than Gallows Mansion.
Her home. Patty clenched her teeth.
Patty curled up on the ground, exhaustion catching up with her. When the henchmen finally came to get her she was almost thankful that someone else was carrying her weight.
Back in the cell her chest ached.
Soul and Tsubaki were dying. Slowly. In front of her eyes. Her sister was crying. And the meisters were… anywhere, really. Anywhere but there with them.
Maybe it was finally her turn be the hero. She almost smiled when she thought about how Black Star would've thrown a fit about it because only he could be the hero.
Patty tugged at the chains holding her against the wall. She just wanted to hug her sister. Was that too much to ask for?
She rolled her foot over a loose rock on the ground, sadness and loneliness eating away at her soul like a disease.
