requiem


Cell 3
Castle Anvard


Morrigan looks up as the door creaks open. She remains crouched by the far wall, practically curled into a ball.

Lanisen enters, accompanied by a handful of guards and a knight, all armed. For his part, he has his arms full with a tall stack of warm-looking (though rather worn) blankets. His face is fairly pale, and he glances around the room before his eyes settle on Morrigan. “Hey, Shenzi,” he says quietly.

Morrigan stares for a moment, before inchin forward, though she doesn’t rise. She takes a moment, staring at Lanisen, before looking expectantly around – and her face falls slightly. “Where – ” obviously, she changes her mind, briefly coughing. “Why are they still keeping me?”

Lanisen’s expression twists at the almost-question, and still more at the question that actually makes it through. “You… are you cold?” he asks instead, lifting the blankets slightly.

Morrigan watches him, hugging her knees to her chest. “A bit,” she mutters, biting her chapped and bleeding lips.

Lanisen glances at the knight for permission, taking a step toward Morrigan with the blankets.

Colin stands back slightly a few steps, watching in silence. His expression is almost forcibly expressionless. He nods his head once at Lanisen.

Morrigan looks briefly at Colin, but reaches instead for the blankets. “…I want to leave,” she croaks, staring up at Lanisen imploringly. “I don’t like it here. Dark. Cold. So dark…so cold.”

Lanisen crosses the cell in about two and a half steps. He sets the pile of blankets down next to Morrigan, unfolding one from the top. Swallowing hard and avoiding her eyes, he drapes it over her shoulders, then sits down next to her on the cot. “Maybe not as cold now, hm?” he asks, his tone attempting (and failing) to be cheerful.

Morrigan is very pale for her normally sleek dark skin; her hair hanging in lank, greasy strips plastered against her face. “Why won’t they let me out?” she pauses, eyes wide. “I want to get out.” Her body tenses, as even now she controls the fearful consulsions in her natural pride. “Are they going to kill me? Hang me out? Or maybe they’ll cut off my head,” she is clearly getting hysterical.

Lanisen watches Morrigan’s face through the tirade, seemingly unable to look away. Helpless horror is obvious in his expression. He takes a breath, then hesitantly puts a hand on her shoulder.

Morrigan turns her head slightly, looking at the hand in a hollow way. “…They…they are, aren’t they?” she asks, still looking at his hand. She pushes her hair off her face, “I don’t want to…” she trails off and looks determinedly away, back to gnawing on her lower lip.

Lanisen can’t answer this, instead glancing at the guards and then at the floor. He doesn’t remove his hand. “Shenzi…”

Morrigan hesitates; “Morrigan,” she supplies, wearily. “Morrigan Morrigan Morrigan. Shenzi would never be here.”

Colin’s brow furrows slightly as he listens.

Lanisen’s forehead wrinkles a bit, but he gives no other visible sign of surprise. “Morrigan,” he repeats quietly, and offers, “It’s pretty.”

Morrigan flinches slightly; “That’s what…what he said. I told him.” She fidgets, almost uncontrollably.

Lanisen asks, “Loc?”

Morrigan nods, stiffly.

Lanisen nods as well, looking at the floor again. “He’s in Carmichael. Workin’ in the mines.”

Morrigan tugs at a handful of her hair, looking quite mad. “Would…would they let me go, too?”

Lanisen swallows again convulsively. “I…” He again can’t make himself form the words.

Morrigan turns her gaze to him, falling silent. “I didn’t want to…do it. I was…tired of being alone,” she manages to force out, looking around her bitterly; “Ironic.”

Colin’s expression almost looks pained for a brief moment.

Lanisen can’t look at her. He busies himself unfolding another blanket to add to the first.

Morrigan continues to fidget into the silence, changing her seated position subtley several times. “At least Myrd is dead,” she randomly says, eager for company now that she has it.

Colin’s eyes flick to Lanisen for a split second.

Lanisen stills for a moment. “Yeah,” he says after a brief pause.

Morrigan stares at Lanisen for a moment, her breath caught. “…he’s…he’s not?”

Lanisen says, his voice a shade harsher, “Didn’t say that.”

Morrigan narrows her eyes slightly, looking perhaps more deranged. “Tell me.”

Colin speaks up at that point. “The man you call Myrd is dead.” He says, his tone indicating there should probably not be any more discussion on the matter.

Lanisen glances at Colin, his face expressionless.

Morrigan trembles violently, her knuckles paling dramatically as she clutches to the rags she wears – but she falls mercifully silent.

Colin utters nothing further.

Lanisen lets out a breath, rubbing his chin with one hand. “There anything you need?” he asks Morrigan.

Morrigan shakes her head slightly; “Only…to get out.”

Lanisen looks away, his shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Morrigan blinks at rapidly, shuddering for half a second before looking away, controlled. “I want to leave,” she tells him, again, faintly.

Lanisen’s breathing is unsteady. He grabs her hand and squeezes it briefly, then releases her and stands. His back is to Morrigan.

Morrigan looks at the grasped hand briefly, letting her own fall to her side when it was released. “If you…see him. Tell him I miss him?”

Lanisen, not turning back around, says simply, “I will.”

Morrigan hunches backwards, retreatin against the wall and resting her chin on her knees. “…good-bye.”

Lanisen shudders visibly and pauses. His head jerks slightly, as if he’s just barely managed to keep himself from looking back over his shoulder, and he fairly flees the cell.

Morrigan is left behind, huddled, shaking; she can only watch.

Colin allows the guards to follow Lanisen, leaving the cell before he does. He looks at the girl silently for a moment before he closes his eyes and steps out of the cell.

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