[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/URvwQEj.png[/img][/center][indent][indent][hr][color=gray]Mortika tried not to be too excited about the prospect of freedom. If a long life filled with trials and tribulations had taught her anything, it was that the best-created plans were seedbeds for a disastrous crop. So, after dinner, they’d been ushered back to their cells, and she’d gratefully allowed herself to be led. Once she sat down, her fingers started to slide through her hair, straightening it out to the best of her abilities. Despite the possibility of death—or worse—she figured a bit of grooming couldn’t hurt the prospect of looking her best for whatever might happen. Lo if she became a ghost with knotted hair. That’d probably drive her more towards vicious howls of torment than the prospect of the afterlife.

She raised a quaint brow towards Titus. [color=#7fbbba]“You are correct.”[/color] It was then that she tossed her hair over her shoulder and brought her hands to her lap. [color=#7fbbba]“It’s easy to train the mind to believe their version of good is to be rewarded, and their version of bad is to be despised. Adhere to the laws, and you’re the hero. Don’t question those laws. Don’t ask if they suppress your existence. They’ve been created to ‘protect’ you. Because that makes it easier to herd people by showing them that the world is made of good and bad—no in-between. If people are not shown that morality comes in two [i]exact[/i] styles, then they might find many branching paths… like a tree. And one limb is easier to cut down than an entire orchard.”[/color] She sighed. [color=#7fbbba]“Brainwash the masses into believing that living life in lockstep with each other is the good thing to do. It’s an easy way to keep them from realizing that maybe they should ask for more from life. Keep them poor by making poverty a virtue.”[/color]

It all felt so simple and so wise but say that in a crowded tavern and eyes would glare at you as if you’d just set the table ablaze. There were several reasons that Mort found herself down here, but she had an itch of a feeling that had to do with her rhetoric. They’d call it rebellious. She’d called it common sense.

So, it was nice to talk to Titus about it, even if it was just to seem as if they were going about their nightly schedules. Mort brought her hands to her hair again and combed at it. The haunting echo of a song passed through the cells. As it got closer to the time in which they were to make their escape, she braided it back and curled it under at the nape of her neck. 

She looked across the way at the goblin furiously digging at the lock. Was that the supposed distraction? It was a little too on the nose. What if the guard got too suspicious and decided to grab one of his cohorts? Mort leaned towards the bars and cleared her throat. [color=#7fbbba]“My my, I believe the rats are having a bigger feast than the guard tonight. Do you hear that? I think they may be chewing on that old man with the glass eye’s… said glass eye. Hopefully, they don’t scratch it up too much, it’s worth quite a bit.”[/color][/color][hr][/indent][/indent]