Hey, I wrote again and it has length! Surprise
surprise....Dir en Grey and Otep are screaming pretty songs in my ears.
If you're reading this, be aware, I'm not planning on making Ivy fall
madly in love with Dilandau and they both live happily ever after. If
this was a romance, I would have this under that genre. If anyone finds
my story needs a higher rating, I'll move it up with one request. Sorry
for some of the OOCness. I've also moved all my thanks for the reviews
to the end of the chapters. I feel like I'm trying to boast my pathetic
number of reviews when I put it under the disclaimer. Boasting...is
something I suck at, ha ha, like writing! Read and Enjoy!
Due to the fact loves not putting my thoughts in italics, they are like this 'thought'
The dialouge goes like this "dialouge"
And the sound fanfiction makes, for not spacing/using italics, when my knife stabs it is "AHHH!" and they think 'Why didn't we give GoddessdeFire spacing/italics?"...yeah...don't mess with me...guess this is what I get for settling for free stuff.
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or its characters. I do own my cheesy wrestling named dude, the three morons from last chapter, and yeah...everyone not in the series/movie/manga.
Chapter 2 Jail bird
Ivy woke on the verge of heaving up her last snack. A panic arose in her as she found herself in a pungent, dark room with little light. The candle light from a torch gave a dim glow through the bars on the tall metal door.
She continued to gag on the putrid aroma, partially submersed in liquid that gave off the offensive smell. Her chest contracted viciously and she thought she would die from lack of proper air. Her gasps were loud and ignored.
Ivy attempted to stand, slipping and discovering her hands touching something meat-like. She jumped up, wavering, sending off disturbances in the ankle deep soup.
A final heave disposed her stomach of its contents. She moaned, feeling her puke mix with the unknown liquid and stick to her jeans. She was about to begin another spasm, but she calmed herself down.
Ivy breathed in the foul air slowly with a hand clamped down and covering her mouth and nose. She slowly swallowed the accumulated spit in her mouth. Her scratched throat did not cease to remind Ivy of the inflamed pain.
"Ok..." she moaned lowly.
She moved towards the door, hoping to get out of the gunk. She found that the door stopped about a foot above the ground. There literally seemed to be a door made of metal beginning at the ceiling and ending a few good inches above the mysterious substance. As if the room had been turned upside down.
Her hand searched for a knob. It found nothing which aggravated her. "Hey?" she yelled, jumping up and holding onto the bars. A grunt escaped her mouth as she struggled to look through the sturdy bars.
"Hey!" she yelled again, staring at the guard in grey armor. Her arms were shaking from supporting her weight. He ignored her, which started to aggravate her even more.
"Shit!" she hissed slipping and stumbling back to splash down on her behind. Ivy got up and started pounding on the door with her fist.
"Hey I know you hear me, now open up the door!" she screamed, Ivy backed up, waiting to be let out.
"Let me out!" she roared, kicking the door and sending a small wave of the fluid at the door.
"Shut'p wench!" yelled a hidden man, outside of her cell.
"What did you just call me?" she yelled, splashing to the door.
"I said, shut'p wench! The guards're trained t'ignore us! They're there t'make sure we don't 'caspe! They won't care if you're hungry or dyin', now shut'p wench!" the hidden, perhaps elderly, man shouted back.
A chill passed through Ivy, the liquid probably contained the decomposed body of the hostage before her. She jumped up and held the bars again, trying to get out of the sickening mess.
After doing that a few more times, she squatted, exhausted. Ivy felt another tremor of nausea and pushed it back down. She wanted to look for her bag, but wasn't willing to feel old human waste beneath her shoes as she searched the tiny room. Her emerald eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness.
'What am I going to do?' she thought.
The teenager sighed and tried to think of everything that had happened. Her mind roamed over the immature attempt to run away and the unearthly light. The men she had met and should have kept her mouth shut around. How she was taken prisoner and thought to be a lethal spy of some sort. As she felt half way thankful to be off the destructive planet of Earth, she missed it a little. Her mind concentrated on regretful thoughts for thirty or so minutes.
'Am I going to die here' she winced and tried to push that thought away, knowing she would easily come to accept it if it was true.
She focused on the fact that she must be in Zaibach....and her father that she had never met, in Fanelia. She sent away the memories of her father never being there for her, never taking her in, and never even sending her a birthday card. Now she understood that her mom wasn't on hallucinogens and that he was really on another planet.
She switched her thoughts back to her location. 'Vionne is what they called it. That midget bastard probably knocked me out.'
Her reflections were interrupted by a loud snoring. The intake of air from another sleeping prisoner reminded her of a jackhammer. Ivy listened to the irritating noise, and then recognized it. It was from the old man who had complained earlier. She felt a mischievous smile creep upon her face.
'Payback time.' she giggled in her mind.
Ivy sighed as she faced her fear, knowing it would happen sooner or later. She began to walk to the other side of the cell. Her arms were outstretched, hoping to touch a clean wall. Before she could shuffle her way completely over, she slipped into the goop.
"Ew." She growled out in a suppressed manner, trying not to wake her victim.
She closed her eyes tightly and decided to touch the solid object she had tripped over. It was like a man's ribcage, she fingered the skeleton up to the jaw. Ivy was thankful she had met no flesh. Her wet and filthy hands touched the skull.
"Huh?" she whispered, eyebrows knitted together.
Ivy lifted the skull and moved towards the light, fearing the unknown floating matter less. The skull, revealed in the light, to be a giant cat skull.
"What's a jaguar's head doing on a human?" she asked to no one quietly.
A pang of fear went through her. 'What if they put animal body parts on you? No wait...mom told me about humanoid animals.'
Relief spread through as she put the skull in a corner. She slowly walked back to her spot, moving somewhat firm items out of her way with her foot. The girl had grown accustomed to the stench.
Ivy turned around with a smile on her face again. The unsubtle snoring continued menacingly. She rushed to the door splishing and splashing loudly. Ivy jumped up and slammed herself into the door, making a sound similar to thunder.
The old man screamed in fear as Ivy concealed her laughter.
"Wha' was that?" the old man asked trembling, fearing another war.
"Thunder..." Ivy said seriously with a gigantic smile on her face.
There was a silence for a few moments, and then a young male voice spoke from inside his cell, "She ran into the door."
"Wench!" cried the old man.
Ivy laughed, feeling amused for a brief moment.
She sat leaning against the door. Her laughter diminished to be replaced with fear for this new place. Ivy felt her nose tingle and eyes slowly start to water with tears. She didn't want to be here.
Folken was walking down one of the many passages to the torture chamber. His long cloak, hiding his metal arm, dragged over the bland colored ground. He was supposed to analyze if a prisoner they had taken in a few hours ago was a Fanelian agent or not.
He honestly thought it was pointless for him to witness the interrogation. Though Lord Dorinkirk had requested him to attend so he was going. Going to try and get out of it.
Folken quickly went down a flight of narrow, spiral stairs lit with dungeon torches. He saw the dirty stone floor and walls with their barred doors littering the sides. His pace quickened as the prisoners begged him to free them.
His face remained emotionless; he neared the end of the long hallway. Fewer prisoners were kept down at this end. Folken found that to be a plus, yet the odor was much more terrible. It smelled of decayed bodies, blood, and feces.
"You're a draconian, aren't you?" hollered a man in his thrity-somethings behind his bars.
"No, I'm not." Folken stated almost startled, he realized he had ceased walking to stare at the man. He returned to walking at his quickened pace trying to block out the man's ranting.
"Yes you are! I saw you save your younger brother when I was younger! You have white, feathered wings!" he cried out down the hall from his cell.
Folken glanced back and memorized the number engraved on the door of that cell. He feared that the fact he had replied would alert the other prisoners that he wasn't lying. He would have that prisoner killed soon enough. He could just imagine what Naria and Eriya would say.
'He's just going to die anyways Folken-sama.' They would purr together, cuddling against him with their beautiful furred bodies.
Folken dwelled on that though as he entered the interrogation room. Two chains were bolted to the ceiling and hung down with a manacle on each free end. Eight chairs in a straight line sat seven or so feet away.
'The Torturer' as they called the man, who assisted in interrogating the captives, was locking Ivy into the manacles. He was a stout, short man with a spiked whip in place of a sword and scabbard.
Folken walked over to him taking in the distasteful smell of their prisoner. The tall Strategos sent an icy chill through the man. He stared down, right into his eyes whispering his concerns for their guest in cell number twenty two. 'The Torturer' nodded and told him it would be taken care of.
Folken then went and sat next to two men of lower rank than him. He assumed that it was their actual job to decide if the prisoner was a spy. He heard someone sit down to the right of him.
"I thought you didn't like good entertainment like this Folken." sneered a pale boy with red eyes.
'I forgot he came to these, damn disrespectful brat.' Folken thought to himself.
"I am talking to you." snapped the albino with narrowing eyes.
Folken turned towards the two men on his left, enjoying the fact he had just insulted Dilandau silently, wanting to get out of this.
"Excuse me." He said, interrupting their conversation.
"Yes Strategos?" the man closest to him asked.
"You're the two men who decide wither the prisoner is a spy or not, correct?" Folken asked.
"Yes, you're correct." said the farther man with his fish-like lips.
"Then is it necessary for me to stay?" Folken asked again.
"Well," said the closer man, looking at his partner and back to Folken, "we heard that Lord Dorinkirk insisted that you come." his voice trailed off.
Folken resisted sighing, "I understand." he said turning back to sit forward in his chair.
He discovered Dilandau turned towards him with his left arm on the back of his chair. Folken really wanted the dragon that had ripped off his arm to bite off Dilandau's arm that moment.
"You'll like watching, the prisoner is a girl." He smiled, "A whore."
Folken looked at the unclean figure slumped down and supported by the chains. It indeed was a she. He really wanted to get this over with. Folken almost twitched, Dilandau was resting his elbow on the top of his chair, staring at the girl. His forearm pressed against Folken's back.
Keeping his face turned forward, Folken looked at Dilandau out of the corner of his eyes. "You're aware Eryia and Naria will beat the shit out of you if they see you touching me," he whispered only to the pyromaniac.
Dilandau's eyes widened extremely surprised to her Folken say that. The albino decided to move a chair over.
Folken couldn't resist the small smile which appeared on his lips. He was tired of Dilandau invading his personal space. He was not one of his Dragon Slayers. Folken felt that he would have to start giving the Dragon Slayers rights.
Three, grey armor-clad, men rushed into the room and took the three seats on Dilandau's right.
"Thought I'd have to start without you all here." laughed 'The Tormentor' shutting the door and locking it. "Thank you for coming gentlemen...and Dilandau..."smiled the man taking out his whip.
Dilandau smiled one of his frightening smiles back at the assisting interrogator. They had become friends since Dilandau started coming to the interrogations, private or not, many years ago.
"Now, Orden was it? Please come and ask away." said 'The Tormentor' taking the chair between Dilandau and Folken. He sat it in a corner, closer to Ivy.
The fish-lipped man stood up with his parchment, prepared to ask questions. 'The Tormentor' sat waiting for the prisoner to rebel and face a server beating.
Orden looked at the girl with her head limp with his muddy brown eyes. "She's alive, right?" he asked.
"Yes, just not enjoying Vionne's jail-life." answered the easy-going 'Tormentor'.
"Oh, girl!" called out the man who looked like a personification of a river.
Ivy stared up at him with her emerald eyes, black hair plastered to her head. She was tired and seriously fed-up. Her black eye make up had lost its proper place, making her look zombie-like. Her glare was full of hot, burning hate.
Fin for now
naria 4: I updated finally...I'm just not sure how long ago I started this. Thank you for your review.
angad: Thanks man, I'm going to have to draw you a picture with your treacherous sun setting now.
Miss maru-may: Thank you for saying my story is great and the review.
Shade-the-wandered: Did you get that alert for this story? Thank you for your review.
Ko – NekoYasha: That's nice that you like the direction my story is going. Hopefully you'll still like it after chapter 2, thanks for your review.
Due to the fact loves not putting my thoughts in italics, they are like this 'thought'
The dialouge goes like this "dialouge"
And the sound fanfiction makes, for not spacing/using italics, when my knife stabs it is "AHHH!" and they think 'Why didn't we give GoddessdeFire spacing/italics?"...yeah...don't mess with me...guess this is what I get for settling for free stuff.
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or its characters. I do own my cheesy wrestling named dude, the three morons from last chapter, and yeah...everyone not in the series/movie/manga.
Happyland
Chapter 2 Jail bird
Ivy woke on the verge of heaving up her last snack. A panic arose in her as she found herself in a pungent, dark room with little light. The candle light from a torch gave a dim glow through the bars on the tall metal door.
She continued to gag on the putrid aroma, partially submersed in liquid that gave off the offensive smell. Her chest contracted viciously and she thought she would die from lack of proper air. Her gasps were loud and ignored.
Ivy attempted to stand, slipping and discovering her hands touching something meat-like. She jumped up, wavering, sending off disturbances in the ankle deep soup.
A final heave disposed her stomach of its contents. She moaned, feeling her puke mix with the unknown liquid and stick to her jeans. She was about to begin another spasm, but she calmed herself down.
Ivy breathed in the foul air slowly with a hand clamped down and covering her mouth and nose. She slowly swallowed the accumulated spit in her mouth. Her scratched throat did not cease to remind Ivy of the inflamed pain.
"Ok..." she moaned lowly.
She moved towards the door, hoping to get out of the gunk. She found that the door stopped about a foot above the ground. There literally seemed to be a door made of metal beginning at the ceiling and ending a few good inches above the mysterious substance. As if the room had been turned upside down.
Her hand searched for a knob. It found nothing which aggravated her. "Hey?" she yelled, jumping up and holding onto the bars. A grunt escaped her mouth as she struggled to look through the sturdy bars.
"Hey!" she yelled again, staring at the guard in grey armor. Her arms were shaking from supporting her weight. He ignored her, which started to aggravate her even more.
"Shit!" she hissed slipping and stumbling back to splash down on her behind. Ivy got up and started pounding on the door with her fist.
"Hey I know you hear me, now open up the door!" she screamed, Ivy backed up, waiting to be let out.
"Let me out!" she roared, kicking the door and sending a small wave of the fluid at the door.
"Shut'p wench!" yelled a hidden man, outside of her cell.
"What did you just call me?" she yelled, splashing to the door.
"I said, shut'p wench! The guards're trained t'ignore us! They're there t'make sure we don't 'caspe! They won't care if you're hungry or dyin', now shut'p wench!" the hidden, perhaps elderly, man shouted back.
A chill passed through Ivy, the liquid probably contained the decomposed body of the hostage before her. She jumped up and held the bars again, trying to get out of the sickening mess.
After doing that a few more times, she squatted, exhausted. Ivy felt another tremor of nausea and pushed it back down. She wanted to look for her bag, but wasn't willing to feel old human waste beneath her shoes as she searched the tiny room. Her emerald eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness.
'What am I going to do?' she thought.
The teenager sighed and tried to think of everything that had happened. Her mind roamed over the immature attempt to run away and the unearthly light. The men she had met and should have kept her mouth shut around. How she was taken prisoner and thought to be a lethal spy of some sort. As she felt half way thankful to be off the destructive planet of Earth, she missed it a little. Her mind concentrated on regretful thoughts for thirty or so minutes.
'Am I going to die here' she winced and tried to push that thought away, knowing she would easily come to accept it if it was true.
She focused on the fact that she must be in Zaibach....and her father that she had never met, in Fanelia. She sent away the memories of her father never being there for her, never taking her in, and never even sending her a birthday card. Now she understood that her mom wasn't on hallucinogens and that he was really on another planet.
She switched her thoughts back to her location. 'Vionne is what they called it. That midget bastard probably knocked me out.'
Her reflections were interrupted by a loud snoring. The intake of air from another sleeping prisoner reminded her of a jackhammer. Ivy listened to the irritating noise, and then recognized it. It was from the old man who had complained earlier. She felt a mischievous smile creep upon her face.
'Payback time.' she giggled in her mind.
Ivy sighed as she faced her fear, knowing it would happen sooner or later. She began to walk to the other side of the cell. Her arms were outstretched, hoping to touch a clean wall. Before she could shuffle her way completely over, she slipped into the goop.
"Ew." She growled out in a suppressed manner, trying not to wake her victim.
She closed her eyes tightly and decided to touch the solid object she had tripped over. It was like a man's ribcage, she fingered the skeleton up to the jaw. Ivy was thankful she had met no flesh. Her wet and filthy hands touched the skull.
"Huh?" she whispered, eyebrows knitted together.
Ivy lifted the skull and moved towards the light, fearing the unknown floating matter less. The skull, revealed in the light, to be a giant cat skull.
"What's a jaguar's head doing on a human?" she asked to no one quietly.
A pang of fear went through her. 'What if they put animal body parts on you? No wait...mom told me about humanoid animals.'
Relief spread through as she put the skull in a corner. She slowly walked back to her spot, moving somewhat firm items out of her way with her foot. The girl had grown accustomed to the stench.
Ivy turned around with a smile on her face again. The unsubtle snoring continued menacingly. She rushed to the door splishing and splashing loudly. Ivy jumped up and slammed herself into the door, making a sound similar to thunder.
The old man screamed in fear as Ivy concealed her laughter.
"Wha' was that?" the old man asked trembling, fearing another war.
"Thunder..." Ivy said seriously with a gigantic smile on her face.
There was a silence for a few moments, and then a young male voice spoke from inside his cell, "She ran into the door."
"Wench!" cried the old man.
Ivy laughed, feeling amused for a brief moment.
She sat leaning against the door. Her laughter diminished to be replaced with fear for this new place. Ivy felt her nose tingle and eyes slowly start to water with tears. She didn't want to be here.
Folken was walking down one of the many passages to the torture chamber. His long cloak, hiding his metal arm, dragged over the bland colored ground. He was supposed to analyze if a prisoner they had taken in a few hours ago was a Fanelian agent or not.
He honestly thought it was pointless for him to witness the interrogation. Though Lord Dorinkirk had requested him to attend so he was going. Going to try and get out of it.
Folken quickly went down a flight of narrow, spiral stairs lit with dungeon torches. He saw the dirty stone floor and walls with their barred doors littering the sides. His pace quickened as the prisoners begged him to free them.
His face remained emotionless; he neared the end of the long hallway. Fewer prisoners were kept down at this end. Folken found that to be a plus, yet the odor was much more terrible. It smelled of decayed bodies, blood, and feces.
"You're a draconian, aren't you?" hollered a man in his thrity-somethings behind his bars.
"No, I'm not." Folken stated almost startled, he realized he had ceased walking to stare at the man. He returned to walking at his quickened pace trying to block out the man's ranting.
"Yes you are! I saw you save your younger brother when I was younger! You have white, feathered wings!" he cried out down the hall from his cell.
Folken glanced back and memorized the number engraved on the door of that cell. He feared that the fact he had replied would alert the other prisoners that he wasn't lying. He would have that prisoner killed soon enough. He could just imagine what Naria and Eriya would say.
'He's just going to die anyways Folken-sama.' They would purr together, cuddling against him with their beautiful furred bodies.
Folken dwelled on that though as he entered the interrogation room. Two chains were bolted to the ceiling and hung down with a manacle on each free end. Eight chairs in a straight line sat seven or so feet away.
'The Torturer' as they called the man, who assisted in interrogating the captives, was locking Ivy into the manacles. He was a stout, short man with a spiked whip in place of a sword and scabbard.
Folken walked over to him taking in the distasteful smell of their prisoner. The tall Strategos sent an icy chill through the man. He stared down, right into his eyes whispering his concerns for their guest in cell number twenty two. 'The Torturer' nodded and told him it would be taken care of.
Folken then went and sat next to two men of lower rank than him. He assumed that it was their actual job to decide if the prisoner was a spy. He heard someone sit down to the right of him.
"I thought you didn't like good entertainment like this Folken." sneered a pale boy with red eyes.
'I forgot he came to these, damn disrespectful brat.' Folken thought to himself.
"I am talking to you." snapped the albino with narrowing eyes.
Folken turned towards the two men on his left, enjoying the fact he had just insulted Dilandau silently, wanting to get out of this.
"Excuse me." He said, interrupting their conversation.
"Yes Strategos?" the man closest to him asked.
"You're the two men who decide wither the prisoner is a spy or not, correct?" Folken asked.
"Yes, you're correct." said the farther man with his fish-like lips.
"Then is it necessary for me to stay?" Folken asked again.
"Well," said the closer man, looking at his partner and back to Folken, "we heard that Lord Dorinkirk insisted that you come." his voice trailed off.
Folken resisted sighing, "I understand." he said turning back to sit forward in his chair.
He discovered Dilandau turned towards him with his left arm on the back of his chair. Folken really wanted the dragon that had ripped off his arm to bite off Dilandau's arm that moment.
"You'll like watching, the prisoner is a girl." He smiled, "A whore."
Folken looked at the unclean figure slumped down and supported by the chains. It indeed was a she. He really wanted to get this over with. Folken almost twitched, Dilandau was resting his elbow on the top of his chair, staring at the girl. His forearm pressed against Folken's back.
Keeping his face turned forward, Folken looked at Dilandau out of the corner of his eyes. "You're aware Eryia and Naria will beat the shit out of you if they see you touching me," he whispered only to the pyromaniac.
Dilandau's eyes widened extremely surprised to her Folken say that. The albino decided to move a chair over.
Folken couldn't resist the small smile which appeared on his lips. He was tired of Dilandau invading his personal space. He was not one of his Dragon Slayers. Folken felt that he would have to start giving the Dragon Slayers rights.
Three, grey armor-clad, men rushed into the room and took the three seats on Dilandau's right.
"Thought I'd have to start without you all here." laughed 'The Tormentor' shutting the door and locking it. "Thank you for coming gentlemen...and Dilandau..."smiled the man taking out his whip.
Dilandau smiled one of his frightening smiles back at the assisting interrogator. They had become friends since Dilandau started coming to the interrogations, private or not, many years ago.
"Now, Orden was it? Please come and ask away." said 'The Tormentor' taking the chair between Dilandau and Folken. He sat it in a corner, closer to Ivy.
The fish-lipped man stood up with his parchment, prepared to ask questions. 'The Tormentor' sat waiting for the prisoner to rebel and face a server beating.
Orden looked at the girl with her head limp with his muddy brown eyes. "She's alive, right?" he asked.
"Yes, just not enjoying Vionne's jail-life." answered the easy-going 'Tormentor'.
"Oh, girl!" called out the man who looked like a personification of a river.
Ivy stared up at him with her emerald eyes, black hair plastered to her head. She was tired and seriously fed-up. Her black eye make up had lost its proper place, making her look zombie-like. Her glare was full of hot, burning hate.
Fin for now
naria 4: I updated finally...I'm just not sure how long ago I started this. Thank you for your review.
angad: Thanks man, I'm going to have to draw you a picture with your treacherous sun setting now.
Miss maru-may: Thank you for saying my story is great and the review.
Shade-the-wandered: Did you get that alert for this story? Thank you for your review.
Ko – NekoYasha: That's nice that you like the direction my story is going. Hopefully you'll still like it after chapter 2, thanks for your review.