disclaimer: me no own Slayers. 'kay!
nekochan: It took quite a while, but here's the update: )Updates 'll be quite slow since school's startin' again... --'
Lina Gabriev: -meep!- longest review yet! - I know they're cruel, but well, they've got a reason... and aboutVal meeting prisoners...he's the only one down there, but he won't stay alone for too long. BTW, Filia knows nuthin' about this happening.
chapter 6: getting to know...the environment
Valgaav didn't wake up for the next two days. During that time, his body took advantage of his immobility to heal up most of his cuts and bruises, so that only a small gash was left on his chest and arm. His elbow, however, was still bent in an awkward angle that made it quite impossible to heal properly.
In the morning of his third day in captivity, he regained consciousness again. At first, he was still too dazed to be aware of the situation he was in. While opening his eyes a little, thoughts of the battle a few days before filled his mind. But this time, he wasn't emotional about it at all. He was only sorting through the events to get a clearer image of what was going on, but when he got to the point where he fainted the first time, everything he remembered was pain and confusion. His head started hurting again, and when he tried to bend forward to his knees, a jolt of pain coursed through his left arm.
Valgaav gasped and sat up straight again, at first only reacting on the pain, then looking at his arm. One of his eyebrows twitched upwards when he saw the metal clasps tying him to the white wall of his cell. What in the name of...
It didn't take him long to realize that his elbow was broken, he knew his body better than anyone alive knew their family, considering the trouble it had caused him in the past. And causing now.
After the sharp pain in his dragonic arm had subsided, a duller one took its place in his shoulder. It felt a bit like when you get a growth spurt, only more intense and it would rise to hurt quite a lot and then settle down to an annoying throb.
Great! The half-mazoku thought. Exactly what I was waiting for! Damn mazoku...if my true body 'd only adapt to them. He prepared to transform his arm back to stop his part-mazoku body from revolting against his ryuzoku-side, but decided against it when he noticed that doing so would only twist his arm further. The clasps had been arranged in a way that when he'd transform, to say, shorten his arm, he'd break his wrist, elbow AND his shoulder, and probably some places in-between, too. NOT a good idea.
After pondering over the subject some more, Valgaav turned his attention to his surroundings. Well, not that it was that interesting, really. It looked like any other cell, only that the walls were coated in a white paint. And very faintly, there hung a magic aura in the square four-by-four metres room.
Also, Valgaav noticed a tiny rectangular window in the top right corner of his new home. It was too small for even a teen to climb through, and soft footsteps echoed from somewhere not too far away from it. His enhanced hearing sense could determine that the window was about street-level, so his cell was approximately two metres below the ground.
No he started working on a way to get out. He tried the clearest option first: blasting the door open. Feeling inside his soul, he drew out some magic he had already recovered. It wasn't much, but enough to form a Flame Arrow. As if he was aware that something was strange, he carefully flicked it at the iron door, and ducked, neglecting the tearing pain that exploded in his claw again.
Right in time. A spilt second after ducking, the red Arrow zoomed over his head, and was bounced back from the wall as if it was repelled by some magic force. So I WAS right about the magic! Valgaav though as he tried to avoid his own spell that was bouncing from the walls in every direction possible.
When the spell went completely haywire and started spraying and sizzling and only barely missed his legs, Valgaav let out a snarl and grabbed the flame arrow, extinguishing it with a weak water spell.
This isn't working...
He had observed that it wouldn't be of any use to try to tackle the little window either, since it had also repelled his magic. Using a stronger spell would be dangerous: he was pretty sure that the strongest he could do at the moment wasn't enough to break the barrier, and if that started darting around too, he could injure himself further. Also, it'd leave him defenceless again.
But physically, he had recovered enough to try to break free from the clasps that bound his legs to the ground. Bracing himself against the pain that erupted from his elbow, he tensed his whole body and tried to get his back straight. When he finally reached the desired (rather awkward) position, (one arm still pinned against the wall, the other supporting his weight on the bench, legs bent beneath it) he used the muscles in his legs and knees in a way they shouldn't be used and forcefully tried to stretch out his legs.
At first, the clasps around his ankles didn't do as much as jerk at the sudden force, but Valgaav could feel them slowly being ripped out of the ground. He tensed even more, almost ripping his muscles in his back and making his knees want to give in, but he didn't stop.
The heavy bolts that kept the shackles to the ground squelched, lost their grip in the concrete ground and eventually broke apart from it. When they suddenly released their hold, Valgaav's knees suddenly buckled, and he fell with his lower back on the bench. His right arm slid away, and one long moment, all his weight was hanging on his injured left.
Valgaav could barely suppress a scream, he only yelped, and struggled to get onto the bench as quickly as he could. When he finally sat down again, relieved that he could stretch his legs again after all this time, he closed his eyes and sighed. With his right hand, he wiped some beads of sweat away that had formed on his forehead and tucked some loose aqua bangs behind his ears.
He sighed. Why did he suddenly feel so tired? It hadn't been that exhausting...Well, maybe it had. He certainly wasn't back to his normal strength again, and then there was this odd feeling in his stomach he hadn't had in ages...
I'm hungry...How long's it been now? Quite a while...
As Valgaav was thinking, it dawned on him that he probably wouldn't get food for another while. For once, he could do nothing more than to wait until someone came...When he felt his temper rise at this rather insulting situation, he calmed himself down.
I deserve this...I owe her this...
The vision of the blonde dragoness Filia crept into his mind again. A wave of tiredness swept over him again, and he fell asleep, dreaming of his angel...
TBC