For all the searching the vibrant eyes of the towering woman did, they found no obvious sign of where the voice originated from. Her ears, however proved keen enough. The man's voice, questioning and beckoning with its curiosity, was from down the hall near the entrance; the goliath had passed him at some point it seemed but it was reasonable she did not notice her fellow prisoner. After all, a band of men playing as soldiers had their weapons trained on her and she was burdened with many shackles and chains, or at least as much as they could spare, her mind simply must not have been there in that moment. Instead, across from her, all the seemingly painted woman would find was a lone cell, a mirror of her own.

From the cracks between the old stone, some pools of water had formed and a green film had now covered the seeping mess, the entire room across from hers bearing little of remark beyond a puddle upon the floor. However, as she stirred closer and with greater lucidity from her meditation, it became evident that someone's silhouette was cast from the central cell. It bore the lone window into the block and now, with twilight settling in, the last glimpses of sunlight. There were torches lit beyond, that much had been clear when the guardsmen left, but it did little to make the dank confines their whole sorry lot found themselves feel much better. It was not as though the monsters outside would dare bother such a place as theirs as it were - far too much effort to contend with rusting iron and blocks of aged stone.

[@Hellion]