[center][h2]Caelum Harrington[/h2][/center]
As it turned out, the guards were more than willing to punish the rest of the group for the escape attempt of that one man. In that moment, when the captain uttered his command, Caelum felt a true hatred for Vincent. He watched aghast as the guards dispersed amongst them, delivering the kind of beating that would definitely be news-worthy. But whether this was real, a dream, hallucination, or whatever else, Caelum knew that there would be no stopping these people – if they even were people.

When he was approached by two of them, he instinctively twitched away, though he was too frozen in fear to even contemplate running. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but try to yank his arm to safety when one tried to grab him. He got a blow across the head with the baton for his trouble. As his head was thrown to the side from the force, and he nearly stumbled in the resultant daze, one of the guards secured both of his arms behind his back. 

He blinked dizzily, going from seeing nothing but white to a blurry sight dotted with black. A tendril of blood ran down his temple, and he blinked at the heat of hit. He was only half-aware of the remaining guard approaching from the front, weapon extended. He barely slurred a “Don’t,” but wasn’t helped any. When he squirmed in the hold of the one behind him, an arm was put across his neck. Then, it squeezed, and his panting was forcibly brought to a short. All he managed were short wheezes, and his vision was losing clarity for another reason entirely. 

In his weakness, Caelum became limp, ceasing his struggle. Taking it as his opportunity, the guard in front of him brought his baton down upon the young man several times. Caelum gurgled ineffectively, keening wordlessly as his legs were beaten black and blue. After a last blow to a knee, which had him shrieking, he was dropped to the ground. He fell gracelessly, like a sack of potatoes being dumped somewhere – frankly, that was likely all the worth these creatures saw in him.

As he lay there on the floor, Caelum focused on regaining his breathing. He wiped a palm across his face, which came away with traces of blood, sweat, snot, tears, and saliva. It truly brought home how helpless he was, how [i]pathetic[/i]. He’d barely resisted, yet he’d been brought down so easily, very much akin to a doll being destroyed by a careless child. And now, he was being urged up by one of the guards, prodded by its baton. He stood up slowly, shakily, and stumbled after the others at the end of the line. [i]Look at us, a procession of cattle led to its slaughter,[/i] he thought morbidly.

He took in the bizarre sight of the chained prisoner with barely a reaction, though he did feel a distant urge to laugh when he saw that these people were actually subjected to the use of cattle prods. The eerie silence of all the victims was the most striking, and Caelum wondered if they were actually human or not. However, he was too preoccupied by his own problems to pay them much mind, and so averted his gaze.

It was quite the ordeal for him to make his way to the courthouse, and he immediately slumped against the nearest pillar. When Pondwater appeared, Caelum recognized almost immediately, after he got over his distraction by the man’s unusual attire, that is. He did not answer the man’s questions, however. Firstly, because the burning resentment at his treatment would surely claw its way out of his belly into a vocalized outburst, and any such thing was sure to bring more injury upon him. Secondly, because there were some others more than willing to explain the whole situation, as wildly unimaginable as it was.

He did not react when the escapee was brought in beyond a brief glance in his direction, though he did feel a dark satisfaction at the state of the man. At least he’d suffered for what he’d brought upon them all. 

Then, another student’s comment distracted him. She mentioned that the judge looked like Pondwater, but Caelum said, “It [i]is[/i] him.” Of course, he was not entirely certain, but aside from the people who’d got here by accident, Pondwater was the only other person who was most like an actual human. Though whether it was or not was certainly in question, especially given some of his odd responses. For the judge, their experience was apparently a usual one, and nothing about this struck him as odd or unreal. In that, Pondwater different from the rest of them.

Pondwater’s speech about the nature of reality rang true, but there were some odd elements to it. The part about ‘his’ anointed, for one. Caelum also didn’t think that falling through the cracks in the metaphorical sense applied to him. Though, he was sure his father would agree with Pondwater regarding that. Now that he was calmer, though also weary from the pain, Caelum decided to speak up. “Quite sensible, your honor, but I am convinced that I am not a failure,” he stated respectfully.