[h1][center][i][color=9e0b0f]Frei[/color][/i][/center][/h1]

Frei could not fathom a sorrow so profound as what plagued the face of the man before her. He was young, frail, and even though she was kneeling he only just managed to level his ghostly eyes with hers. Through all of her questions she found herself most wanting to ask him what was wrong, if he needed help, but found her throat wound tight and unwilling to comply. 

He brushed long, oaken hair from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks that brought to her attention the fact that hers were wet as well. Before she could ask why they were crying, he spoke, his voice a match to his weak, mournful being. 

He said: [color=ed145b][i]”I loved you, Frei,”[/i][/color] and though she couldn’t understand why, she felt her heart shatter. 

But a roar caught her attention, not of a beast, but of men. She looked aside in the uncertain void, and saw hundreds and hundreds of people, all faceless yet their hateful eyes tore holes in her. Their cheers and screams were horrid amalgamations of man and woman, child and elder, and she felt a deep fear take root within her. She wanted to run, but was given no time. Her hands were bound tight by the wrists, the constriction at her throat became a tether that would not let her move from the stage she could not see but nonetheless knew she stood upon. 

Then at last, she was falling. 

She awoke to screaming, not her own, not the voice of the young man nor any of the crowd, but new and distinct. Vaguely she could hear voices elsewhere around, but they were drowned out by the yelling, which itself took a step behind her own bewilderment. 

First she took a breath, funneled in steady if slight streams of air that alone were enough to make her aware of her surroundings. She was on her back at an incline, upon what she wasn’t sure, but staring up she was far more concerned with what was hanging above. The thing was a terror, alive or inanimate, with its pulsing, shuddering form hung from hooks by stretched flesh. 

The instinct to run once again took hold, but where in the void she was barred by unseen tethers, in the waking world her restraints were much more visceral. Merely trying to sit up sent aches shooting up her spine, as though it were crooked and struggling to realign itself. Her whole body felt heavy, which, upon glancing at the armor encasing her from the neck down, made sense, though it didn’t lend any comfort to the soreness in her joints. There was a brief, albeit sharp pain centered on her chest, but it was washed over by the sudden panic of suffocation. 

It quickly became apparent that the air she’d taken in moments ago had done well in bringing her back to her senses, but was not nearly enough to sustain her freshly heaving diaphragm. Without the energy yet to sit up, she instead managed to roll herself onto her stomach, coming to face with the cold, clammy tangle of limbs that had been her rest. It was a shock, but one she pushed into the back of her mind with the others. Her boots found purchase in the pile of bodies, enough to brace herself so that her hands were free to work at her neck. At first she thought the armor might be dented in on her, but her fingers looped not around metal, but rope. Desperately she yanked at it front and side to no avail, hand sliding further and further back until they found the series of knots holding it together. It was then her body got away from her, distancing itself from her hysterical mind and acting off of muscle memory. With practiced expertise she could only hope to remember long enough to question, she slackened the hold on her throat, just enough to allow for a full, proper gasp.

For a moment she let herself relax, gulping down air mindless to its fetid stench and sour taste. She kept her eyes shut tight, both from exhaustion and the desire not to see the morbid mound beneath her as her brief respite came to a close. She knew, whatever was happening, that she couldn’t stay put, and more importantly that someone else in here with her needed help. 

Shakily she got to her feet, and felt an added weight on her side. She saw a sword in its sheath, dangling from her belt by a single, fraying leather strap. It didn’t take much effort to tear it off, and when she did she found with some relief that the weapon wasn’t very heavy at all. In fact with its weight she doubted much above the guard was present, but an inch or two of steel was better than no steel at all. 

That said, she didn’t draw it, and instead opted to wind the leather strap round the guard and sheath to keep it shut. If there was someone else down here with her, she didn’t want to approach them bearing a blade.  

The voices nearby picked up again, and over the crest of bodies she thought she could just make out the top of someone’s head. Surely they might catch a glimpse of her as well, looking around at the corpses Frei saw she was far and away taller than most of them.  Knowing she wasn’t alone was a relief to say the least, but before her own comfort she had to ensure theirs, or at least their safety.

[color=9e0b0f]”Hel–”[/color] a violent crack and cough crippled her voice and sent her to a knee. She retched up a vile liquid, but spared it only a moment’s concern before pushing herself back up. There was no more time to be slow, hers was not the only life in danger. 

[color=9e0b0f]”Hello?”[/color] she called, pleased to hear her voice was strong and unhindered. [color=9e0b0f]”I’m coming over! Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you, I promise!”[/color]

With that she started an uneven but certain journey over the dead, making her way towards what she was beginning to know as others, plural. Good, there was safety in numbers, solidarity that could get them all out of here alive. Or at least, as close to alive as could be.

It was not a matter she wished to address for the time being.