[center] [img] https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/551d365b-4c8e-4acd-8cc5-b42a9932d740.jpg[/img]
[color=8B4513][u][b]Lannis Tyrel[/b][/u][/color]
[color=gray][sup]"...and wasn't it you who said I needed peace..."[/sup] [/color] [/center]
[color=Silver]
It was her sounds, more than it was her voice, that alerted him to her presence; the heavy metallic sound of the door catching, and the rasping cough, drew him.  Quickly, his eyes scanned around the room, finding pitched torches standing unused in a corner of the room, but the brazier that had been with them was out, as cold as though it had never been lit.  The corridor was dark, and little to no light fell into the prison from outside sources.  She was ensconced in darkness darker than night, and stepping into that gave Lannis a chill as though the touch of the dead had brushed the back of his neck.  

“I hear you, I’m coming,” He spoke, without thought of who this person was, or why they had been put into this place in the first place.  His excitement at finding someone alive overrode all other sense of self preservation and caution.  He simply didn’t think whomever it was would actually attempt to hurt him.  The trouble was, he couldn’t see.  The sounds told him that the door was locked, and Lannis didn’t have a set of jailer’s keys, or know where to look for one.  

“Keeper rattling the door,” He spoke, wanting to use the sound as a guide, while his eyes groped the darkness immediately around him, in search of either a source of light, or a set of keys, or anything useful.  A few steps and his foot kicked up against a hard wooden surface, and his groping hands gave the impression of a flat topped desk or table of some sort.  He felt parchments, the feel of melted wax long dried.  His fingers stained as he knocked over an ink well, but he gave it all no mind, failing to feel anything metallic that could be used to strike to light one of the torches, or anything he could use for the door.  

“Do you know where the keys are… or where the jailer lives?  Perhaps he has them on him?”  Lannis was thinking aloud now, unsure if the prisoner could even hear him, unsure if they could even talk, and in truth, he doubted the reality of their existence.  Perhaps the whole thing was his mind’s trick on him, like the way he thought he saw old man Potter blink before he took that silver crown out from beneath the set of towels on the counter a few days ago.  He didn’t know if the money would be useful anymore, but he figured he’d have more use of it than the old man.  
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