Aterlacus does not so often see new arrivals. It particularly does not see arrivals quite like this - a girl, and one of rather extraordinarily tender years, straight-backed and stony-faced. (In the years to come, no doubt there will be more like her, as even children catch a revolutionary fervor and begin to organize to resist the inhumane conditions of their factories and workhouses - but for now, at least, the union men and suffragettes coming in tend to have at least reached their majority.)
The cell in which she is deposited is across from Ralston's. Irregular again, the mixing of sexes, but what is one to do in such an irregular situation? She does not resist or fight when they lock her in, but the moment the guards are gone, she's pacing and exploring - dragging fingertips over iron bars, feeling at the mortars between the stones, measuring the length of the cell pace by pace.
In all the most cosmetic ways, there is nothing that distinguishes Aterlacus from any similarly behemoth dungeon. There are prisons all over the world and a great many of them appear more imposing or more damp or more dreary than the old stone fort sat on its hill in the grey drizzling North. The iron bars might be the type found in any of a dozen places; the stones and the particular dimensions of the cells and the heavy doors which terminate them are solidly anonymous; and in every place where people are held against their will, there is always going to be some distant sound of someone's personal suffering.
What makes Aterlacus particular isn't the thickness of its walls or the cruelty of its masters. Rather, it is made unique by who it holds and how it does so. It's not easy, you know, to keep magicians where they don't wish to be. The whole world knows that.
The cell across from Kitty Jones is represented by a heavy door. It's closed with a simple but heavy bolt, and while there's no visible padlock the seal of enchantment on the door is evident even in the dim light of this gloomy corridor. The iron inlay grounding the spell work catches the light, glinting like the wet eye of a particularly cold blooded animal.
The particulars of what waits behind that door are more mystery than not. Save that a long time ago, someone put a boy who thought he was very clever in a box for safe keeping.
I'd tell you to slap my hands if I get things wrong about your canon but I know you'll roll with it
It doesn't take long for Kitty to explore the full borders of her cell. There is, as she discovers, not much there: a cot, a door, a chamber-pot, nothing else. She spends a few minutes searching for anonymous inscriptions - she does hope, briefly, that she might find a scratched message from the last resident of this place who had perhaps escaped through a loose stone in the floor or secreted a file in some hidden place, but no such luck.
So, having discovered everything there is to discover within the cell, she turns her attention to what's outside of it. And immediately discovers that that cell is far, far more intriguing than her own.
"Hey." She calls across to the prisoner there, whoever they might be. Her voice has the rasp of someone who knows they ought to be whispering, but she's not very quiet. "Hey. Can you hear me?"
Does that not-whisper penetrate past the heavy door and the binding enchantment into the cell beyond it? Hard to say. It's possible that the door is too thick, or that the spell work is too complex. Or maybe the person behind the door isn't listening. Or they're ignoring her. The lack of reply stretches out long enough so as to be definitive—
It comes at the right moment, right when she's started to despair of hearing anything at all in response. She's nearly turned away, and then there's that rap - and she doesn't think for a moment that it's a coincidence.
"Hi," she says, a bit breathlessly, fingers hooking around the bars. "Can you talk? Rap two times if you can't. For whatever reason."
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prison break au? prison break au.
The cell in which she is deposited is across from Ralston's. Irregular again, the mixing of sexes, but what is one to do in such an irregular situation? She does not resist or fight when they lock her in, but the moment the guards are gone, she's pacing and exploring - dragging fingertips over iron bars, feeling at the mortars between the stones, measuring the length of the cell pace by pace.
hell yea
What makes Aterlacus particular isn't the thickness of its walls or the cruelty of its masters. Rather, it is made unique by who it holds and how it does so. It's not easy, you know, to keep magicians where they don't wish to be. The whole world knows that.
The cell across from Kitty Jones is represented by a heavy door. It's closed with a simple but heavy bolt, and while there's no visible padlock the seal of enchantment on the door is evident even in the dim light of this gloomy corridor. The iron inlay grounding the spell work catches the light, glinting like the wet eye of a particularly cold blooded animal.
The particulars of what waits behind that door are more mystery than not. Save that a long time ago, someone put a boy who thought he was very clever in a box for safe keeping.
I'd tell you to slap my hands if I get things wrong about your canon but I know you'll roll with it
So, having discovered everything there is to discover within the cell, she turns her attention to what's outside of it. And immediately discovers that that cell is far, far more intriguing than her own.
"Hey." She calls across to the prisoner there, whoever they might be. Her voice has the rasp of someone who knows they ought to be whispering, but she's not very quiet. "Hey. Can you hear me?"
me out loud: "what canon"
And then there is a single rap on the door.
Coincidence?
damn right
"Hi," she says, a bit breathlessly, fingers hooking around the bars. "Can you talk? Rap two times if you can't. For whatever reason."