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FANTASY. xv. damsel in distress ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
THERE WERE MOMENTS, THOUGH fleeting, when she'd get a small glimpse – moments when she'd attempt to flutter her eyes open long enough to boost her awareness but fail. Then, there were the moments when she'd slightly stir in a weak and pathetic attempt to awake herself. Because while her body remained unmoving, her mind continued to run at its rapid pace. The voices remained right there in the back of her head: run, run, run! But, no matter her overbearing thoughts, they did nothing to get her body to move.
It was like she was paralyzed, stuck in her own mind. She could think, but she couldn't feel. And she could not get any of limbs to function properly. It was driving her mad, having to sit with the thoughts that only continued to criticize and ridicule her for her naivety. They continued to remind her that they'd be correct; the little voice that had been shouting at her the entire time had been right, and she wanted so badly to punch herself in the gut as an ironic way of showing her regret for not listening to it.
Snap.
Just like that, as if it'd all been merely an illusion, the girl was able to obtain stable consciousness once again. Eyelids sliding back, her gaze set upon a blank, white ceiling. Then, after whipping her head to the left, it fell upon a modern furnished couch that was topped with ratty pillows. And whipping her head to the right, there was an unlit fireplace molded in brick. There was no source of lighting other than a couple lit candles here and there, the remainder of the room enveloped in darkness.
She went to move, to make yet another weak attempt to escape, but she couldn't. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized it until just then, but her entire body was being restrained. However, it wasn't that anything was physically holding her down. No, it was some kind of force preventing her from making any moves from the neck down, which only brought the girl to panic all the more.
Despite her increasing anxiety, she tried her best to remain stoic. But, her breathing subconsciously grew quicker with each passing second all while she wiggled ferociously in her position. Had she not been distracted by her current situation, she would've groaned at how uncomfortable the floor beneath her was. Instead, she groaned in frustration at the fact that she didn't see herself getting free anytime soon. But, of course, that didn't stop her from continuing her actions.
"What the bloody hell?" She growled through gritted teeth.
While she'd been occupied with her failed attempts to break the invisible restriction on her body, an unknown figure casually waltzed into the room. Even when she took notice of their presence, the man didn't dare to make eye contact. Not even for a sliver of a second did he acknowledge her lying figure on the floor as he knelt to the ground and set a bowl of herbs on the coffee table meters away. It wasn't that he was scared to do so, but that he just didn't care to. She could tell by the way each and every one of his movements were with such ease, relaxed. Not to mention, the quiet humming which sounded from the back of his throat – the man didn't have a care in the world.
