Tidal Florette - A Painted Soul I

Favian - 42

The impenetrable darkness of Favian's cell has made it entirely impossible to determine how much time has passed since the door was shut. He assumes it hasn't been nearly as long as it feels, no one has brought him food or water so it can't be more than a day or two. His tongue feels more like a ball of cloth shoved in his mouth than anything belonging to his body. The thin mat in the corner of the room barely feels like any form of cushion on the stony floor.

Regardless of this certainty that dehydration should have taken him, Favian feels as though he's been laying there in the humid void for weeks. Maybe even months. He can't even remember all of the charges that got him here, just the heated feeling of frustration from knowing his execution is out of the false justice of blind piety. There wasn't much he could sense through his anxiety, but he wouldn't need his empathic skills to discern the smugness of the warden who brought him into the Ignited Temple's Capital Cathedral.

An egregious, lavish structure that could easily be mistaken as the Dawnthrone's palace by an unfamiliar traveler. Everything the Ignited Temple does is so needlessly adorned with a display of wealth... I've never seen a warden in a fight and yet they walk in to arrest me in shining armor like they're ready to face some massive moonlit nightmare... Favian does admit the head warden that read his charges seemed near in size to Raelyn, but even then there's no way he'd be a match for a reaper.

Or... I would be sure of that... If it weren't for Yumi... Some moments, Favian can't help but feel angry that the Dunereaper let the wardens take him away without any resistance. There had been no commotion outside the book shop, no scene was caused that gathered the citizens, no one seemed to even notice. They've become so complacent to the temple arresting citizens at their own will for any inexplicable reason... as long as it's not their family it doesn't make a difference.

Several priests had been in the cell to question him, holding a single candle as they attempt to coax information from him. They wanted to know where he'd come from, about the rumors he was raised by moonlit, his reasons for going to Irusu, who the girl was that he'd brought back. Favian remained silent, no matter how friendly they seemed at first they would inevitably become frustrated and leave. One had resorted to striking him with a golden cane that luckily missed his head and just left his shoulder throbbing from what he assumes is a nasty bruise. The last one left with a warning that he'll be left to rot from starvation instead of wasting their time with an execution. I'm not sure why they think I'm going to give them anything when I'm aware they'll kill me anyway... Even if I told them every detail of what I know they'd make up their own story.

It's at that moment, torn between conviction and defeat, that the cell's door unlatches with an echoing clang. Light bursts from the corridor as someone seems to be holding a torch as opposed to the dim candles carried by the priests. A young warden enters with a chair and an odd steel fixture that he sets down before silently leaving the room. From the corridor, the warden that arrested him from the book store enters carrying the torch, which he places in the fixture near the chair. Favian now notices the glass of water the warden holds and the discomfort of the dryness of his mouth seems exponentially worsened from the sight.

"It occurs to me I failed to offer a proper introduction when we met, Mister Beaumont. A bastard outcast of mortalkind likely failed to recognize the high warden of the temple." The armored man searches for some sort of reaction from Favian, but seems revolted by the silence. His gruff voice rumbles in the dreary chamber. "With all your meddling through books, you never once came across the name Mimir Lykke?"

I wouldn't waste my time with the Ignited Temple's propaganda... Favian remains unresponsive, but his eyes are locked on the cup of water. Noticing this, Warden Lykke shakes his head. "Not even a day has passed and already you're desperate for this?" He holds the cup out as if toasting with it.