[b]The Cells[/b]

Her breath no more than a whisper, a chill wind that faintly moves her chest, Cold Hands sat quietly at first, as if no words had been spoken. Her lips purse in a faint smile as her eyes open, cold ice orbs of blueish white unflinchingly meeting those of the Unfortunate Son. Welcome words of violence pour from his form, a great sea of suffering that fills Cold Hands with the memories of blessed revelation.

When she spoke her voice was warm, her Trollish light, the gentle rocking of some distant waves, "Despair is the key that opens all doors, even to Heaven. There is no prison that the bitter winds cannot reach. I am free here or elsewhere."

Slowly, she opened open her hands, resting them serenely in her lap, "I am Cold Hands, of the Hearts By Tide Devoured."