Conjecture and Gloom

There was very little she could do to keep track of time. Fading in and out of unconsciousness- while it gave her some gleam of hope for her sanity to cling to- wreaked havoc on distorting her perception of how long she lay trapped in her glass-walled prison. She could feel some improvement in the condition of the flesh wounds that littered her neck and scruff. Though her leg remained limp as it lay stretched out at an awkward angle. It was so swollen- so sensitive. She had attempted to put it back into place herself in her captor’s absence- she knew how- though she was too weak, and couldn’t put enough force into the joint at the correct angle to achieve the desired result.

She was so tired of lying down. So tired of being rendered immobile. Tired of being drowned in the scents of blood and lust. But as the bruising and soreness eased, boredom became one of the worst parts to endure. Sleep was all she had that was hers. And as she lay silent and still in the pale lighting of the den, she prayed for it to take her.

However, it seemed that the universe wouldn’t be so kind. As she heard faint sounds of movement outside, her sapphire stare flashed towards the entrance where she had expected to see the brute she had been forever bound to. But after several seconds of waiting, he didn’t appear. “Sephiran?” She called out softly. Was this a new game?

"Aurelia Veratti"