Dormant

10

I wish you the same...
To walk beside and carry on this flame,
To see you again,
With a radiance of pure and holiness,
When the sorrow it breaks them,
I will replace them for you.
Dead flowers for the torn apart,
Laid at the grave to heal a broken heart,
Let it rain until it floods,
Let the sun breathe life once more...
Reborn.

-Dead Flowers, Demon Hunter

10

Drip. Drip.

Fury groaned as she attempted to push herself up upon her good arm, panting slightly as she fought to catch her breath above the pain that was beginning to clench at her chest. It reminded her much of someone taking a knife and dragging it through her. She probably had a few broken ribs at least; she had a reminiscence lingering in the back of her mind of the Demons surrounding her, laughing as they beat her. She could assume that being beaten was probably the gentlest thing that they could have done to her and mostly now since she was just human.

Drip. Drip.

Her yellow eyes fell onto the stone floor, latching onto a growing puddle. She tried to remain focused on it and failed after a little while. The pain was just too much. It spread from her arm -she had a feeling that it was dislocated- up through her head, making a mind splitting headache grow. But, then again, everything hurt. Half of her body was swollen from the beatings and she could hardly hear out of her left ear. When she reached up to wipe at her forehead, leaning against the dirt wall of the cell that she was in, she found blood caked between her fingers. It was then that she realized that her gauntlet wasn't on her hand. She cautiously felt for her whip that should be resting on her hip -it was gone as well.

Drip. Drip.

Cursing, Fury attempted to rise to her feet. Nausea swelled over her and, if she had anything in her stomach, she probably would have hurled it all over the floor. Panting, she glanced around the cell uneasily. It was dark since the only light was being made by a torch that was outside her cell, flickering and snapping with life. Most of the cell was made from dirt. Even the roof of the small place had roots dangling from the ceiling in an almost creepy way, like they were reaching out to her despite their inanimate state. One of the walls looked like something had smashed their fist into it; Fury took a moment to examine the mark when she had stumbled up close and found that it wasn't a fist that had made them -claw marks dragged down to the floor. The only wall that wasn't made from the earth was the door and the random window that had been punched into it, allowing more light to filter in around the height of her knees. It was simply a slab of misshapen metal poorly constructed into the dirt to make an entrance with a weird looking window that she was just tall enough to peek through if she stood on her tip-toes.

Drip. Drip.

The first thing that she saw when peeked outside of her cell was the torch. She stared at it until it hurt, ripping her gaze away and managing to study the rest of the dreary prison that she was in once the fuzzy dots had disappeared from her vision. She could see more of those dirt walls; she was definitely underground in something that the Demons had taken control of. Torches every so few meters appeared to be lit and she found that she was correct as she peeked further down through one of the windows that she had been granted and saw several tunnels branching off from this one. There were torture devices lying around as well; Fury couldn't help but to notice how blood was on many still.

Drip. Drip.

And, with horror, she found where the dripping noise was coming from.

Drip. Drip.