A/N I'm very sorry because I know there are a healthy number of people that are actually reading and enjoying this fic! I'm not sure if it's better to post of not to post this, but this is approx 354 words of proof that I'm still alive and still working on this fic. I know where it's going till the end but I'm having some difficulty fleshing out the outline right now, that and working a whole ton of doubles are the why of not having posted in awhile... soo here you are! There will be some more soon!
Miette
**Disclaimer** I don't own PJO, characters, world or plots **
Bia did not want to wake up. She did not want to open her eyes. She wanted to find her blankets that had evidently fallen off of her in her sleep, and roll over for another few hours, hopefully finding a way to lay that eased whatever this odd soreness wracking her body was.
With a groan, Bia rolled her neck, trying to relieve the discomfort of the muscles there. As she tilted her head back as far as her neck would allow it occurred to her sleep fogged mind how odd it was that no matter how she rolled her head, she wasn't contacting her mattress or pillow. It was with this realization that her complete consciousness returned to her in a rush.
Bia's eyes snapped open flitting around the dimly lit chamber she was in. Her body was stretched taut, bound in such a way that she was afforded little room for movement. Bearing the brunt of her weight, Bia's shoulders strained. She was suspended from aching wrists that were bound together tightly over her head. Likewise, her ankles were bound together. Try as she might, she couldn't connect her feet with the floor a few inches lower than her bare soles. Nor, could she raise her legs or kick them, due to the short length of rope leashing her ankles to the ground just out of her reach.
The one small mercy Bia determined of her state was the fact that she still wore her father's old, worn, over sized sweater, that she'd decided to put on at the last minute over her skimpy pajama shorts and cami, before going outside. It would have been better if it had been zipped closed, but, she reminded herself 'beggars can't be choosers', and it was still better than being in this position clad only in her gray cami and purple boxers. The question now, well, really there were two, was a) how did she get from sitting behind the Nidus drinking tea to here? And b) how in all the gods names was she going to get out of this?
A/N Sorry for the wait and length, but as the great Theodore Gisel says 'shorth is better than length'!
Miette