Okay, I know it's been a long, long, long while, and I am so sorry to those of you that I kept waiting for so long, truly [Like seriously, I was in the eight grade when I posted this and now I'm in freaking college], but, better late than never, right?
I've changed the style a bit, like the first two chapters are in first person present tense, and the new chapters are in third person present tense, and while I'm happy with what I've belted out so far, I may come up with changes in the old chapters as well as the ones I'm posting now, so if I do, I will definitely tell you guys.
As always, please review; flames are also accepted with open arms. I just really love to hear from you guys, because it helps me to write better, you know? and I hope y'all think my writing has improved.
If you guys have any ideas or questions and whatnot, please PM or review or whatever, you know.
Again, I'm really sorry for the epic delay!
It's surprisingly damp for a flying fortress. Then again, she thinks, even villains need plumbing. Her hair is matted and the strip of cloth she usually ties it back with has come loose. Blood drips down her arms and from her back and the manacles are cinching into her wrists and her hands are white, her muscles stiff and sore, but she can't bring herself to move. Her eyes are shadowed, lips dry and cracking. Drakath grins maliciously.
This is a dream come true for him. The mighty Misaki, defender of the weak, conqueror of evil – lying at his feet, battered, bloody and completely ruined.
"Look at me, little girl." He sneers. He grabs her chin roughly and crouches in front of her.
The dungeon walls are stone, and it only has one tiny, barred window high up, sound tends to echo, so Drakath's petty sneers are drowned out when the door groans open. Sepulchure strides in, his cape swishing behind him. The talking sword is not with him. Drakath lets go of her and stands up.
"Come to have a go?" He asks smilingly. Sepulchure waves his hand in his general direction as a dismissal and a flicker of irritation crosses Drakath's face, but he leaves without a word, banging the door in his wake. Misaki startles out of her half-doze.
"Seppy!" She drawls. "Come to say hello? Haven't seen you around for a while." Her tongue is thick and uncooperative and blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. Sepulchure stares down at her.
"You are not healing." Misaki's half smile falters.
"Well of course not. I'm only human." He scowls and crouches close to her.
"Don't lie to me." He hisses. "I know all about your abilities, soul-weaver." Misaki's head lolls back down. "I don't know what you're talking about." Sepulchure fights the urge to curse out loud. This was all wrong! He had expected her to heal herself, fend of Drakath's sadistic fancies, escape, SOMETHING! But she had been here two months already, and she was still here!
"Why have you not escaped yet?"
"…How could I possibly escape this fortress?" She whispers.
He stares at her for a moment, before picking up a bottle of water from the corner of the room and carefully holding it to her lips.
"…Drink."