Silence in Sagas

4

"Arlos, what did you do?"

"Just—I can explain—!"

"You drugged her?"

"Um, yes, but—"

"I'LL BE DAMNED BY THE YTIR—THAT WASN'T A PART OF THE PLAN!"

"It was necessary! I didn't—oh, fine, but—!

Oliwa shuddered and her eyes flew open. Dark wooden planks were lined up above her—she was lying on her back, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

She sat up—she was laying on a red couch that smelled of the sea—or, the whole room smelled of salt and seaweed. She looked around. The space was perhaps double the size of her bedroom, and the walls curved inwards, meeting at each end. Oliwa would say it resembled the storeroom of a ship.

Upon further looking, Oliwa discovered she wasn't alone in the room. 

A pretty girl with dark skin and turquoise hair was in the room with her, and beside her—it took a while for Oliwa to recognize him without a cloak, but—the boy who'd broken in last night stood beside the girl.
And they were both staring at Oliwa.

"Queenling Oliwa of Notteny," the girl said. The boy slapped her arm. "You're sounding ridiculous—She's just a normal person."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'll go and get Denevon."

The girl turned towards the exit—she had to walk around a huge table to get to the small wooden door.

"Wait!" the boy called out while keeping an eye on Oliwa. "I'll do it!"

He stumbled around the table and ripped the door open, rushing out and slamming it shut, nearly tripping on his way over the threshold. 

Oliwa was left in the seaweed-smelling room, together with the turquoise-haired girl.

It felt strange and unnatural when the girl spoke to her. "Good morning..." She looked to be about Oliwa's age. "...I probably couldn't imagine the questions you're having right now," she said with a faint accent. Oliwa couldn't pinpoint it—perhaps it was Wennegald, but that was a wild guess. 

Oliwa took a deep breath. "Do you plan to hurt me?"

The girl shook her head. "No." She sighed. "I apologise for the violent... methods--drugging you was... well, it was much too drastic." She wrinkled her nose and looked into the air. "Arlos, he's... blinded by the desire to impress his father." She met Oliwa's eyes. "I'm Ismina, by the way." 

Ismina strolled across the floor. Oliwa leaned back before she saw her hand that was outstretched against her.

Oliwa hesitantly shook the girl's hand. There was a peculiar texture, and Oliwa was confused for a second--It felt like ridges... Stiff ridges of skin against her own. Her eyes trailed down to Ismina's hand, but it was enclosed against her own. Ismina must have sensed her discomfort, because she tugged her hand back, and in that motion, Oliwa spotted at least two things--they were scars--in her hand.

She looked up with a frown. Ismina stared into the air with furrowed brows. 

Oliwa cleated her throat. "I-I'm Oliwa."

Ismina nodded her head--of course she already knew who Oliwa was. 

Oliwa took a step back and cleared her throat. "W-what are you doing with me? Why'd you take me here, and... who are you?"

Ismina stepped back and jumped up on a table, knocking down a few papers that sailed to the floor. "Well"--she met Oliwa's gaze--"I'm probably not set to tell you this, but the others are going to tell you anyways, so I don't see why telling you would hurt."