Zexion had been tied between two ungagged soldiers whose names he didn't even know, listening as he wove his magic, hearing their whispers to one another as if through a murky fog. First the vetran between them shared a few insights about what to expect from Zakiem hospitality, which he'd hoped would eventually evolve into some consideration of escape plans as their captors rotated and grew adgitated, distracted. Instead, low, ugly talk turned to what they would do with the rattled guards, if their positions were reversed.
A minute of this, and Zexion could feel his mind going numb in dull disgust, shifting against his bonds and heaving a restless sigh as he tried to stretch his back. "They're going to hurt you, if they hear you saying that." He cautioned, grumbling.
"...Ah, and we wouldn't leave your tender arse neglected either, Zex." Assured the younger Wulgrimm soldier, sniggering, which made him stiffen with a sharper scowl, because they apparently knew his name. Captain Bert's new pet made for sensational gossip around the campfires, he supposed.
Either way, he peered up through his bangs with a dry look of exhasperation, meeting the gaze of a one-eyed officer who approached them with something like relief for the timely interruption. When they unlashed him from the pole and hauled him up by his bindings, the veteran soldier swore, spat from the toothless gap in his mouth, and advised the lad not to squeal when they stuck him. The illusionist wrinkled his noise and tried to fight the lurch in his stomach.
He let himself be led, with an uncertainty for what he would do. Grovel? See if they had any idea who'd been tormenting the guards? Explain how he had few options, here, or beg them to put him out of his misery quick?
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Date: 2017-03-14 10:23 pm (UTC)A minute of this, and Zexion could feel his mind going numb in dull disgust, shifting against his bonds and heaving a restless sigh as he tried to stretch his back. "They're going to hurt you, if they hear you saying that." He cautioned, grumbling.
"...Ah, and we wouldn't leave your tender arse neglected either, Zex." Assured the younger Wulgrimm soldier, sniggering, which made him stiffen with a sharper scowl, because they apparently knew his name. Captain Bert's new pet made for sensational gossip around the campfires, he supposed.
Either way, he peered up through his bangs with a dry look of exhasperation, meeting the gaze of a one-eyed officer who approached them with something like relief for the timely interruption. When they unlashed him from the pole and hauled him up by his bindings, the veteran soldier swore, spat from the toothless gap in his mouth, and advised the lad not to squeal when they stuck him. The illusionist wrinkled his noise and tried to fight the lurch in his stomach.
He let himself be led, with an uncertainty for what he would do. Grovel? See if they had any idea who'd been tormenting the guards? Explain how he had few options, here, or beg them to put him out of his misery quick?