[h1]Captured[/h1]

She had similar routines for waking up hungover and in solitary confinement. The world was crawling and morphing around her; nausea made dropping to the floor a constant possibility as the weight of her head swiveled in her neck. The prisoner tried to move, but between the salty ropes she wore and her stagnant muscles, it was like challenging a statue.

On the bright side, none of that mattered. She understood the circumstances, what was lost, and what she had to do now. Until an opportunity presented itself, the most the mageborn could do for herself was sleep. And, thanks to her prior overexertion, that would be easy. And it was easy, easy enough. Waves from the indifferent sea offered calming prattle and there was only a quiet aftermath aboard the Kiana after the losses. The sense of time she couldn't maintain in the pitch dark room further jumbled as the prisoner slogged in and out of a muddled consciousness. She felt feverish, but was not met with any dreams. It was peaceful, really. Somehow.

But something else wasn't. Something on her face--something undoing her gag. Maybe the wind? Overwhelming grogginess, and perhaps an ounce or two of grief, marred her judgement then.

Or they hadn't, and she had only faithlessly hoped that it wasn't Tobias Graves' bloody hands dipping into the mess of drool and cloth that held her mouth open. She wanted a little more time to herself before she had to put up with the inevitable.

Over the static and the droning him of the sea, she heard rabble. He was saying something.

[color=d8cfbe]"...Miss Rathas [i]Graves[/i]..."[/color]

[color=b75138][i]Uegh.[/i][/color]

[color=d8cfbe]"...execution. However, if you truly are who I believe you to be, the family head will wish to see you. That display of power today… it could mean the future to the Graves family.”[/color]

She smelled the blood of her crewmates on his breath, but the weight of their loss already felt so distant. That demon would have its day.

For now she'd have to handle the more immediate issue: this corporate mook.

...But it sounded like the mook was offering an escape from an almost certain death row. At what cost? Proximity to house Graves and a past she'd have hoped to keep away until the grave.

There was only one right answer, and after a brief pause, the prisoner opened her mouth.

[color=b75138]"...What makes you think I'd go back?"[/color]