23:15, August 27, 7093
Bzzt..zzzt......zt...
The old fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling flickered twice, the light casting unknown, shaky shadows against the walls. There was nothing in this room except the light, a single chair, and a woman tied to it with barbed wire. Short white hair framed her face and hid it from the rest of the world's view, her head hung low. Dried blood stained her torn clothes, both from the digging of the tiny spikes into her skin and from other barely healed wounds. The light above flickered again and this time, the woman stirred. Her finger twitched at first, then she could feel herself barely coming around. How long had it been? A few hours? A couple of days? Memories from however long ago since her capture had grown hazy and uncertain as exhaustion wracked her mind. She hadn't had food for days, nor water, nor even the slightest bit of healing for her damaged body. Her wrists were tied down to the arms of the chair with the same type of wire except even tighter. The more she struggled, the more the wires dug into her skin and tore up every bit of precious flesh on her body. Her legs fared no better and at least her captives had the courtesy to leave her head alone. But where was she exactly?
She heard something rusty grinding about and groaning as it slid across an equally rusty surface. Suddenly a rush of cold air came to greet her and despite already cold to the touch, it brought some relief to her aching body. Metal clicked along the ground in steady, rhythmic beats until she could see the tips of steel covered toes in her field of vision. A rough, gloved hand gripped at her chin and forced her face up and her body forward. Deeper did those spikes sink into her skin and deeper they went to rip up her already damaged nerves. She refused to scream out loud or give into her captives' demands. Sharp crimson eyes hardened against the ones hidden behind a white mask. She showed defiance and strength despite her condition and situation.
"What the hell do you want with me?" Weakness stung painfully in her voice, undoubtedly from an extended period of neglect. Her willpower was still strong and she wish she could break out of her restraints to just beat the crap out of whoever decided to mess with her. A hand raised and slapped her hard across her face. The familiar taste of iron filled her mouth and she spat out a mixture of blood and saliva on the ground. Her cheek was cut both on the outside and the inside, leaving a nasty, swelling cut on her cheek. "God will not tolerate such vulgar language from a filthy mouth. You are in here to pardon with God, ask for forgiveness on the sins that you've committed. Your blood has been tainted by those of the Devil's work and we will erase any trace of it within your bloodstream and make you pure once more."
"Sins? My a**! You're holding a Guardian hostage and that's against the law!" She tensed as the same hand came down on her cheek again. More blood, more spitting. More anger built up inside her body. "The Devil is using you as his puppet. You will exorcise him from your body and free yourself of his work and relish in the sanctuary of God when he is no longer in possession of your body." At this point she could barely focus on anything except the blurred image in front of her. Blinded by anger and deprivation, words were her only resort in trying to finagle her way out of this disastrous situation. "And as for being a Guardian? You may as well give up that group of failures. If we can so easily capture a Guardian without an ounce of effort, then they truly have failed in their purpose. But we can give you a greater purpose, a purer name."
She gritted her teeth together and spat at her captive's mask, the blood and saliva mixture splattering and dripping off of it. She held her breath and expected another slap but this time she faced a back. Two more guards came in, both similarly dressed in long, white robes with hoods over their heads and masks covering their faces. It bothered her that they were so pristine, so clean, so... white. A mockery to the fact she was an albino. Was this some sort of discrimination? Because she had a deformity that she was subjected to this withholding and torture? "Untie her and bring her to the second level. I think it's about time we try something else to clean her." Both guards gave curt nods as the leader it seemed left the room to her and the other two. She would have resisted, would have fought back the moment the finally peeled away the barbed wire from her skin but her body refused to obey her mind. She felt a powerful grip under each arm and winced - they hurt more than she expected and instead of letting her use her feet, the guards dragged her along the ground as if she was some sort of rag doll.
Her eyes saw nothing but more and more stone ground. When they began to descend the stairs, her tired and bleeding feet found not a bit of footing and with every step, the edges of the stones hit her shin and bruised them if they weren't bleeding already. Her world faded in and out and before she knew it, the guards had let go of her completely. She wasn't free however as they took each of her blood-caked wrists and chained them to either side of the walls. Shuffling filled the room and suddenly she felt a hand grab the back of her shirt roughly and rip it open completely, exposing her clean back. It was the only other place untouched by the barbed wires since the back of her chair protected it. But now left in the open air, whatever color was left in her face had disappeared altogether. The sound of leather clapped and filled the air this time around and she struggled against her binds. "Wh...what are you doing...? This isn't right, what's happening?"
"We will begin extracting the Devil from your body so you may be free of his binds. And you shall receive punishment for your sins." She tensed up as she heard the whip fly through the air and the sudden burst of pain as it came in contact with her back. It felt like it had been seared and ripped open, slicing her open like some sort of animal waiting to have its organs removed. She felt something trickle down her back slowly and figured it had to be her blood. The second strike came down just as hard, but with even more pain as it stacked on top of the first. Tears stung at her eyes as she tried to focus on not screaming now, not breaking her wrists from the damned metal binds to just retaliate against her assailant. No, she couldn't give in that easily. The third strike came down and it finally broke her. A blood curling, pained scream left her lips, the pain on her back become unbearable in addition to all the other damage to the rest of her body. It burned and it didn't just hurt - the pain was beyond what words could describe. But it didn't end there - the fourth followed, fifth, sixth...
Eventually she lost count of how many times she felt that whip go across her back. She let the pain envelop and swallow her mind, her cries reduced down from sobs to broken and hopeless cries, to whimpers that escaped her lips just barely within her consciousness. "Please..." she sobbed, her hoarse voice cracked in just above a quiet whisper. "N...no more.... Please... no more... no..." The whip stopped and she barely found relief in the moment that it ended. But that was it. She heard the sound of grating metal as the door shut to the room, leaving her chained to the wall with a split, exposed back. She might as well have rubbed it all over with bacteria. Without proper treatment, she could die within just a few days from infection, but that didn't seem to be the concern on these people's mind. Death didn't feel too surreal after all, the darkness seemed much more welcoming than having to stay alive through all of this. Black started to creep into her visions as she heard the soft grinding of metal and gentle footsteps treading across the ground.
A gasp followed an abrupt stop in the footsteps and she remained kneeling in the position she was in (not like she had much of a choice anyway.) A warm hand found its place against her bloody, carved back and she winced at first, but realized that the warmth that began spreading across her body was gentle, firm, and inviting. "What's your name, you poor dear...?"
"A...Annabel... Wisteria..." The lulling invitation of darkness and the saving grace of the warmth became too much for her to handle and she felt her eyelids grow heavy with sleep and exhaustion. There wouldn't be much time before her mind would give out.
"My name is Eisenar.... Eisenar Nigh.."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A loud banging at the door startled Annabel from her slumber and she jolted upright. Her restraints prevented her from moving at all and she all but gave up on hope of escape. She hadn't been found yet by any of the Guardians, no matter how hard she tried to send an S.O.S. message out in any form. Even a blast of wind from her lips didn't trigger a signal and she had been trapped down in this hell hole for however long since she had been captured. Day after day or night after night, the same process would begin all over again. A pound on the door, her waking up from her half conscious state, then more lashing and then their departure. She would have gone insane if it weren't for this mysterious Eisenar's help. Some days she would just come in without a word to be said and ease the pain in Annabel's back. Other days she'd come in with a soft greeting and some quiet chatter. Even with this "help" the pain grew worse and worse every day and the number of lashings increased. Even as her pain threshold increased over time, the harshness of the whippings increased exponentially and greater than she could handle. Then it became a blur for Annabel. Days melded into nights, nights into days, the seemingly endless punishments come right after another, and some days it felt like they had completely forgotten about her. It eventually became too difficult for her to believe that there was actually someone helping her. Perhaps she was hallucinating to alleviate the pain and keep thoughts of her misery at bay.
All she wanted was for the torture to end. To know why she had been captured and taken down in an unknown location. To die in peace and end the suffering.
As the door slid open, she didn't respond to anything her kidnapper said or did. Numb and tired, her mind barely latched onto the words that slipped from those hidden lips. Suddenly there was clicking and for the first time since being trapped in this dungeon, Annabel's arms were free. She let them drop to the ground wearily and collapsed forward, her muscles unable to hold her up any longer. The sounds around her slurred together as she lay there, but soon enough she felt someone lifting her up from the ground with cautious, hesitant hands. Mustering up whatever strength she had left, Annabel lifted up her face and blank crimson eyes met cerulean ones under a head full of short, blonde hair. Eyes that match the daytime sky, eyes that spoke of freedom that she had been denied since barely saving that child from the shadow. Eyes that told her that she was still bloody alive and that this woman was not a hallucination.
"......Eisenar..."
Darkness slipped into her mind and took her peacefully, her body sinking and falling into the blonde's arms. She was out of energy, her stamina used up on trying to stay alive and to see the face of her one ray of light and hope.
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