Meddling Minds

[Naelona Ezel]

A soft light flickered through the darkened halls, drifting mournfully across the solemn stone walls. The footsteps sounded down the hollow paths, it'd been a while since they'd traveled this way. Lifting the candle head-high coal-colored eyes scrutinized one imprisoned body to the next. Dusty, dirty, soot-covered forms.. the moaning of some injured, the silence of the already dead. Not all were permitted recovery, some slaves were left to wallow within the repercussions of their disobedience.

"Mister Roberts." Her voice sounded quietly, coldly, holding the candle aloft. It was quieter here, apart from the rest. For the moment the boogie didn't note any other being within the cell with him. Her eyes were solely focused upon just one blond slave. Or who she believed the slave to be at least.

"Present yourself." Naelona ordered softly, as Mar climbed to her shoulder, watching the darkness about them with big eyes. Something was different about the Mistress tonight. As if the soot marks upon her form didn't speak enough. The flames, the fire, the destruction, the deaths. Naelona was in a cold state of mind, somber and equally deadly. Parts of her clothing was singed, and something resembling dried blood covered part of her sleeve and a caked streak that'd dripped down across her skirts. Beings had died that fiery night. This boogie looked no better for it, either.

[Kristopher Roberts]

Kristopher sat in his cell, it must of been night by now. The dungeon felt much colder then it had been earlier. He had to wonder, how much longer he was going to stay down here. Surely Sin didn't intend to leave him here to rot? But who knew with that boogie.

Kristopher pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms about them. Leaning forward, he dropped his forehead on his knees and sighed. He was trying to stay warm in his cramped cell. His blond hair had fallen out of his ponytail hours ago from being moved about from one cell to another or to a room to be questioned. He had so many encounters already and was surprised that he had not been harmed yet.

He once again heard footsteps and prayed to god they would move past him and merely let him rest. But they did not, the footsteps stopped at his cell.

"Mister Roberts."

The blond did not move. He was tired and just wanted to sleep.

"Present yourself."

Wait. He knew that voice did he not? Confused for a moment, his face rose to meet the piercing gaze of his ex-master. He blinked a few times and then slowly, he moved. He moved to the front of his small and short cell. He sat on his knees and bows his head lightly.

"Yes, Madam?" He asked tiredly. Then looked at her carefully. His expression went towards concern. "I hope you are not badly injured..."

[Naelona Ezel]

"Yes, Madam?" Obedient and polite as always, just as she'd trained him to be. At least some things still held true within all this madness. The boogie regarded him coldly, emotionless. "I hope you are not badly injured..." Her gray eyes became mere slits. "Not as badly as some." Came the response. Several boogies were dead, after all. Seven in fact, and a the fate of a few others were still unknown as they struggled with their own injuries.

"You appear remarkably whole, as always." A lie through and through, Kris was often sickly and easily hurt. Naelona seemed worse for wear. She hadn't slept since the blaze and it showed. Her eyes were dark and now solely from her talent. The boogie hadn't stilled her hands let alone her mind since it'd started, and fatigue rested heavily upon her form. Ignored stubbornly, but it persisted.

"Why are you here?" Her tone was ice, cold and biting to the dark cell. Wasn't that what she should be answering, than asking? "Treating others? I'm sure." The dark boogie surveyed the feeble slave, from head to toe. He looked as bad as she did, in his own slave-ish way. Slaves always looked poorly, but this was an exceptional case. "You've remained considerably unblemished as well." Her eyes sought out his, snapping with a harsh tone. "Why?"

Former Mistress in a pissy mood? Oh yes, yes she was. From boogie deaths to slave trouble on an undeniable quantity, and finding a former slave of her own had been also locked away with other culprits.. Fond.. was this also another trait of such an emotion? Upset was a horribly light way of putting it. It was the sort of mood where necks ended up snapped and bodies carelessly cast aside. Even with it's rare appearance, she waited silently, apparently patiently, for his responses.

[Kristopher Roberts]

"Not as badly as some. You appear remarkably whole, as always."

Kristopher Allen Roberts, looked away from his old Master then and backed away slightly from the cage door. Eyes averted, he repiled to her, "I was merely luck is all." He muttered softly. He felt her eyes looking at him, as if trying to stab him with daggers and that sent him into a small case of the shivers. She was terrfying when angery.

Why are you here? Treating others? I'm sure. You've remained considerably unblemished as well. Why?"

Once again the blond flinched and pulled away like a dog beaten with a thick news paper. He suddenly felt very small and afraid. "Yes," He started carefully, trying to sound as proper as he could. Using words that would not lead to his harm if possible. "I was treating others, that is how I ended up here. I--I was called by my..."Master" to see him. I--I got caught in the cross fires. I am unblemished because I was knocked cold when I was aiding a dying slave..." His sentence drifted away, ending in mumbles. He was afraid that she might suddenly thrash at his cage to try and get to him. Possibly pop his head off.

He wasn't sure but he knew that right now he was in a dangerous situation when she was like this, he had learned that in the past. Never to speak unless he was addressed. Never to make sudden moves or raises his voice. Always be as proper as a dog and fetch the masters slippers when told or get popped in the nose.

"B--but I am glad...to see you...are alright."