Vhalar 79th 721
They sat in the dark, all of them. Though no torches hung nearby, not outside the cells and not further down the hallway, the prisoners weren’t quite stooped in absolute darkness. More like a twilight moments before a moonless night blanketed the world. What little light reached the deepest reaches of this labyrinth was nothing more than the last few gasps of a photon’s dying breath.
Not quite enough to make out details, but sufficient to see in, to an extent. Only flickering shadows of black at first, then shades and shapes of gray when their vision adapted.
The air was cold and stale, thick with the scent of dried blood and piss. Of mold and rot, and fear excreted as drops of sweat. Sickness and death.
It was quiet too, safe for the slow drip-drip of water on stone, the hushed conversation of the guardsmen standing down the hall, and the soft sobbing coming from several cages within the dungeon. There was no talking between prisoners, they barely made any sound at all. Wallowing in their own misery, questioning their life’s choices, wishing for the opportunity to turn back time. Hoping it was all but a dream, an awful nightmare they would eventually wake from.
One way to cope with the reality of your own bad decision making.
Oberan shifted position, rocking back and forth on aching butt cheeks in an effort to alleviate the growing numbness there. Rough straw scratched at his skin, clung to his loincloth –the only article of clothing they were allowed to wear. That and some chest wraps for the women among them. Beasts wore no clothes at all, and having broken the law in some way, shape or form, all of them were no more than wild animals now. Smart ones shaped like people, talking like people, but animals nonetheless.
There’d be no mercy. Unlike people, human or otherwise, monsters and animals were not protected by the letter of the law. No rights, not anymore. They’d been stripped of those the moment they were arrested and put on trial. No, it was earlier than that. The moment they made the choice to walk the path of the criminal. They’d no-one to blame but themselves, really. All of them had known what waited for them if they were caught, when they were caught. No-one escaped the all-seeing eye of the law very long.
From above, the distant sound of a roaring crowd echoed through the tangled web of hallways and corridors. The guards perked up, money changing hands. Some grinning, others scowling and cussing. The prisoners tensed like rabbits caught in open field, shaking their heads, clasping their hands in prayer.
Knowing they were coming. Knowing they might be next.
Something stirred to Oberan’s left, a form pushing itself upright in the cramped cell next to his. Roused by the cacophony, or perhaps the sleeping drug had simply worn off. He raised an eyebrow, squinted against the dark. A young woman with dark hair, confused at her surroundings, startled by the bars surrounding her at all sides.
“No use checking the bars,” Oberan whispered, “they’re old and rusty, but not weak. You’ve more chance cutting yourself and developing a disease than bend or break them. That’s how Lou died, couple weeks ago.”
Prisoners in the cages close to his shot him dirty glares, some hissing for him to shut up, eyes anxiously glancing towards the room’s entrance where the guards were. But they were preoccupied and a low whisper wouldn’t even reach their ears.
“I’m Oberan, by the by. What did you do to end up in here? Ah, that’s rude of me to ask, huh? No need to be ashamed of it, really, we’re all in the same boat. Boris there--” he pointed his thumb at the cage opposite hers “—sold hotdogs without a permit. Deborah--" he gestured in the direction of a woman a few cells away “—smoked a blunt once. Geoff parked his carriage in the spot reserved for the disabled. Bernadette cut in line at the postal office.”
“Will you shut up!” someone hissed from the cage above. “What we did is our business, not the newbie’s! And even if it was, it isn’t your place to tell them! How many times do we have to repeat the message before you’ll stop, huh?”
Oberan raised his eyebrows, rolled his eyes, and pretended to saw his own arm off. “Mark here is a bit of a grouch because the wind snatched a cigarette butt out of his hands and he couldn’t pick it up before anyone saw. Littering by accident is still littering, Mark!”
Mark grumbled something incomprehensible, though it sounded strikingly similar to a promise to kill Oberan with his own bare hands one day –but only after subjecting him to numerous hours of blood-curdling torture—or a ritual curse spoken in a forgotten ancient tongue, aiming to bring comedic misfortune and unending suffering upon the unfortunate victim. Oberan ignored it all the same.
Rather than pay Mark any further mind, he jabbed a finger at the burly figure to his left, whose expression wasn’t anything at all concerned or wrought with misery and self-pity, like many of the others present. Instead, as far as the light allowed to see, he was calm and serene, and looking mighty pleased with himself. “Ricky there killed seventeen redheads with big boobs and a pet dog, because they reminded him of the girl who didn’t want to date him when he was in high school.”
With a wide smile, Oberan turned back to the new girl, arms spread in a jovial gesture. “So you see, nothing to be ashamed about. We’ve all made mistakes, some bigger than others, but we’re all in the same place now. I won’t judge you, Immortals know we’ve already been ostracized enough by society itself for it. Besides, we it’s not like we’ve got much time left anyways, might as well make your peace with your missteps.”
“Shut your trap, Oberan! Read the room. No-one wants to talk with you, just leave her alone.”
“You shut up, Mark. Just because we’ll have to kill each other eventually doesn’t mean we don’t have to be friendly to one another. I am just trying to liven this place up a little and give the newbies a chance to distract themselves from their fate. If you want to be miserable, fine, but do it alone and in silence.”
