As it is the day (late evening to be exact) before the beginning of the pilgrimage, Loria is still imprisoned in the Keep, waiting for the next dawn – the dawn of the day when she would finally be freed, even if that freedom wouldn’t be officially recognized among the Ar’revik until (or as most thought, [i]if[/i]) she accomplished the mission to the Void.
 
However, Loria’s thoughts and worries about the situation are interrupted by the woman – 5 years’ her senior, as she is reminded constantly – leaning on a wall across from the bunk bed on which the younger is sitting. The older female is a shade paler than Loria, her skin more marred due to her recklessness and penchant for fighting, and – a trait which she is most proud of, even if it’s the hardest to discern – is a redhead.
 
»So, you're finally going out there to die, eh?« Ram asks with feigned resignation and disbelief, her flair for dramatics betrayed by the faint smirk at the corners of her mouth.

»No, I'm finally getting out of [i]here[/i],« Loria answers, truly resigned to her friend’s – the closest thing she has to a friend now, anyhow – antics.

A snort from the other side of the room leads Loria to turn her head and look at Ram directly, her reproach obvious. Her cellmate raises her hands in mock surrender, but the spreading of her smile shows she isn’t finished yet. “That’s what they all say, when they go to the Wastes,” the hint of her laughter almost audible now.

“Ram…The Wastes are just another dead-end place for the hopeless, suicidal –“ At this point, Loria is interrupted by outright laughter and although irritated slightly, she waits it out.

“Oh, please,” Ram says, still recovering from her outburst with gasps of breath “How is the Void any different?”

“It’s not [i]here[/i],” Loria mutters quietly, a hint of resentment apparent. Louder, she says “Shut up,” with finality. Thankfully, she is given her reprieve – her roommate (and Loria shudders at the fact she can now think of this cell as a room) just shrugging “It’s your funeral,” in response. Loria shakes her head and lies down on her bed in an attempt to sleep. It is a long time in coming.

The next morning, Loria wakes to the distinctive footsteps of the Keeper coming to unlock their cells and herd them to the common rooms with the other prisoners. This time, however, the guard indicates that Loria is to follow him, which she does. She is led to one of the staff rooms, where she is given a medium sized backpack and then, a bit more reluctantly, a belt with a knife and dagger sheeted in it. “We’ll still be keeping an eye on you,” the Keeper warns her, his tone professional. Loria nods her understanding and takes the items, but hopes the mission as a whole will be given supplies more reliable than that. They were to go to the Void, after all.

Shortly after having to wait a few minutes in tense silence, two Keepers arrive – a male and a female – and escort her outside. Together they go to the entrance and exit of their community where they meet a few Rangers who are to escort them all on the pilgrimage. About half an hour later, the Hand and Keepers arrive. Even as the previous night’s cool is beginning to dissipate, the small but important party makes their descent into the much harsher reality of the Wastes.