[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hSbxgyH.png[/img]
[sup][@Pyromania99][@Rune_Alchemist][@PaulHaynek][/sup][/center]
Was she sensitive to pain, or were her ears abnormally sensitive? As the large-eared woman reacted rather childishly to her own ears, Isidore tugged on his own. It didn’t feel all that noteworthy for him, and now, he certainly had to wonder.

How [i]would[/i] she respond to a gentler touch upon those ears of hers? Perhaps the Goddess’s prophecies and perspectives had some weight to them after all.

Though it was clear enough that this woman, Augusta, received a gift of sight, of knowledge, from the Lady of the Depths. Still, it would be uncouth to skip so many steps in pursuing a lady so picture-perfect as the one before him, regardless of their gothic surroundings. [b]“I’ve no intention of doing so in our current situation,”[/b] he replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. [b]“Good name, if ill-suited for our surroundings.”[/b]

A momentary pause, his dark gaze gliding towards their neighbor in the cell adjacent to them. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a boy-next-door look. How many humans had the Goddess plucked out from Death’s grasp anyhow? The lady deigned to respond though, so Isidore turned away from him after, grasping the shackles that extended out from the walls instead. He took a breath, then pulled at them, gradually increasing exertion until he could feel the rusted bolts and eroded stone give way. A bit more, and he wrenched two shackles out from the wall.

Wasn’t going to last, but it was comforting, nonetheless, having such a nostalgic weapon. Reminded him of the days when he was a snot-nosed brat, tying a combination lock to a handkerchief so he could break the jaw out of the fifteen year old who stole his backpack.
Good times, reckless times.

[b]“I’ve no intent on staying here longer than necessary myself, Augusta. Seeing you understand my boon as well, I’m sure you aren’t against following my lead?” [/b]Isidore strode to the window, jerking his head off to the side. [b]“We’ll be heading out. I’m Isidore, and the lady behind me is Augusta. Let’s acquaint ourselves properly once we meet outside.”[/b]

With that, he strode out casually, heading straight for the black stone walls that faced them. Inspecting them with some care, Isidore followed the carvings with his eyes, noting the patterns that the artistic carvings had. It flowed too regularly to be language, unless it repeated a single phrase constantly. Just art then.

[b]“Fancy prison,”[/b] he muttered, and turned his attention further down the room, listening for the overweight warden as he proceeded through it.