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 [h3] Guillan- Royal Complex Dungeons, early morning..[/h3]
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     Y’Vanna’s nostrils were filled with the stench of stale air and mildew as she wrenched herself from the dungeon floor. She winced as she ran a hand across her face, as bits of dirt and straw had clung to the coagulated blood were torn from her wounds. She propped herself up as the throbbing pain coursed over her forehead and cheek, and the agony and pain was worse than her worst hangover had ever been.  The room was dimly lit by the warm colors of distant hearths and hanging torches, none of which were very close to the small cells but could be seen from down the halls. Drops of water hitting small stagnant pools sounded like small bells chiming in processions in the background.  

     She rubbed her fingers over her brow and winced, the guards helmet opened up a nasty slice which still bled even though hours had passed.  It was a smooth cut and bled profusely as most clean ones tended to do.  She had barely recalled how she had gotten her wounds, though the memory of it all was returning to her, riding the throbbing waves of pain of her head. It all happened so very fast, and Y’Vanna was still unclear of what has caused the events as they had unfolded.  Disoriented and foggy, she began to piece it all back together.  She was both happy and saddened by the fact that Gail was shackled to her ankle.  Glad that he was safe at least, and could be accounted for, but also sad, sad that they were both is such a terrible predicament.  She realized that she felt a bit lighter than usual, and this feeling was due to her saber and dagger belts had been relieved from her.. And then the thought of it came rushing in..  the [b][i]dust[/i][/b]! She panicked and began to fidget and feel around for it, giving a sigh of relief once her fingers fell over the small lump in her crotch.  There it was, still wrapped in the leather scrap and snug in it’s place. 


     [color=f7941d][i]“Oh, thank the Nines…”[/i][/color] she said with relief.


     Relieved indeed.  She glanced about hoping that her feigning had not been with an audience.  She was both embarrassed and ashamed that she was so dependent on the stuff. Not so much that she’d ever give a thought to giving it up.. At least not anytime soon  that is.  She tugged at the leather and did her best to free it from her waist as fast as she could.   She pulled the leather open to find that the vial had broken, but remained mostly intact. There was only a small bit left anyway, but it was enough to get her up and out of the daze she was in. She brushed the glass shards from the small mound of powder with a finger, thankful that the glass had broken fairly neatly. She looked at it briefly before sniffing it up.. down the hatch it went.  She shook out the leather and folded it, placing back under her waistline once more.


     She hadn’t seen her wounds, but she could tell they would need some mending judging by the extent of the pain they were causing.  This pain was waning though. Another perk of the dust was that it was also a very effective anesthetic and the effects were almost instantaneous.  This alleviation allowed her to focus more on what had happened the night prior.  She could still smell the cinnamon from the sweet loaf on her fingers.  A small flicker of comfort in an otherwise void environment.  She pulled the shackled leg in close to her and the weight of the large metal shackle and chain could be felt.  She hoped that she hadn't disturbed Gail in her doing so.  She had many times experienced this in her short life, being incarcerated, shackled.  The feelings of confinement were not new to her, though it was still a terrible feeling.  She valued her freedom, perhaps more than anything else, and her agitation was always heightened when this was jeopardized.  Her plight was presumably shared by her partner in crime, and she hoped it wasn’t a terrible shock to Gail’s senses.  She pursed a small smile when she had recalled his valiant efforts to keep her from sharing his ill-met fate.
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