Bergoda couldn't see anything, the brown sackcloth bag tied around her head enveloping her in total darkness and muffling the meager sounds of woe that had been her lullaby these past eight years. She'd take it off, were it not for the fact that her arms where strung up to the ceiling by cold iron chains. These measures were on account of her little indiscretion earlier in the week, which really wasn't her fault anyway. Charley had been working here for how long? He'd been here when she'd arrived. He should have known better than to turn his back on her cell, no matter how weak and decrepit her body looked or how securely he thought the manacles held her. He'd been asking for it.

Gods, that ear had been the sweetest thing she'd tasted in a long time. It was the little things like that, the defiances, that kept life worth living in here. Little cruelties that kept Bergoda the Eel, queen of the Crimson River, warm at night. Kept the fire going in her. Kept her from turning back into weak old Bergoda the dock urchin. Kept the treasure out of the Baron Rustmore's hands until he and his house wasted away to nothing expecting it to deliver them.

That was when something new entered the cellblock. A slight smell hidden under all the muck. Perfume. She listed, could hear the familiar shuffling gait of Fenster and the unheard of but distinct tapping of posh women's shoes on the stones. She smiled. "Fenster, ya dirty ol' bastard!" She called out jovially to the jailer as she heard the steps passing her cell. "Finally got up the stones to step out on yer wife, eh? Gods, how much ya save up for a high class bird like this? Lady, no matter how much he pays ya it ain't worth it! He's a freak, that one! I got the scars to prove it, hahahahahahahaha!"

She didn't hear the footsteps momentarily stop over the sound of her own laughter. By the time she was done, they'd continued down the hall.

[hr]

She was jerked roughly from her cell and led out some time later, up a flight of stairs, and had the bag ripped off her head. The face reveled could be said to possess a certain rugged charm by a well intentioned liar. What could have once been a handsome young woman had been warped by time and trial into the sort of face that wouldn't look out of place skulking halfway out of the waters of a bog, mentally separating everything it observed into two boxes labeled "potential food" and "not worth my damn time." 

Lady Dulcena definitely fell into the "potential food" category. Dangerous food, she could tell that right away. She wasn't the normal sort of rich poncy twit that decided to take a spirited pleasure cruise down the Crimson River and maybe give those pirates what for while they were at it. She had that look in her eye like the Baron had, the sort of old school noble who got where they were by being ruthless and smart and really, really, [i]really[/i] good at slitting throats if the need arose. She'd made the mistake of confusing the two once. She was lucky enough that she had the opportunity to apply what she'd learned.

"Bergoda the Eel at yer service, m'lady." She said, doing her best impression of a curtsy with her shackled hands and the tattered remains of what might have been a potato sack some time in the distant past. She felt her wrists slip free of the binding and took a moment to stretch out in the sunlight that poured through the window and enjoy the sight of one of the guard in the room, less one ear, quaking in what was either terror or rage. Probably both. She waved back at them as she stumbled toward the carriages. "Bye Bye Charley. Hector. [i]Fenster[/i]. Swear on me pop pop I'll never forget out times together. Swear on it."