A scrawny man in a navy warehouse uniform, matching cap pulled low over his eyes, unloaded a chipping crate roughly from a rickety old boat anchored at the edge of Amber Island's. Slamming it onto a cart, he now had the laborious task of pushing it through town and up the hill to the ornate guildhall at the top, all the while sweating not only from the exertion but from a bit of nerves. Not only had the man committed enough crimes to find anyone in a position of authority scary, but he also drew the short straw on being the one to deliver the crumpled body of one of the ruthless Dies Irae guild masters back to a guild chocked full of people who would hardly hesitate to kill him for a much less sin as this. Sure, he wasn't the one who had put the Ambassador in this state, but he doubted he'd get the chance to explain that he was just the messenger. Or rather, the delivery man.
Worse still, he couldn't just dump the crate at the door and run. His instructions were clear. He had to walk it all the way in, take the wing to the east, and locate the offices. He was to leave it on Johann von Weiss's desk since it was addressed specifically to him and marked both confidential and urgent. No one seemed to notice that the corners of the wooden box were discolored with dried blood, and thankfully it had stopped leaking a couple of days prior. The noises had stopped as well, so the man believed the contents to have finally died. At least he didn't have to worry about her popping out of the box and decapitating him anymore.
Passing only a few distracted members in the hall, the cart rolled up to a desk in the clerical area of the guild. The nameplate on the desk read 'Helga', and as he cleared his throat the bespectacled secretary lifted her eyes from her paperwork and quirked a brow. "Delivery for Johann von Weiss?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent enough to pass as a regular delivery man. It must have worked because after she stood, double-checked the shipping info, and unlocked the door behind her. "Just leave it on the table next to the biggest desk. I'll let him know he's received a package," she said with a sigh, taking his clipboard and signing it.
After he unburdened his cart of the crate, he wheeled back out and closed the door. Nodding a goodbye to Helga, he nonchalantly walked his lighter cart back down the hall, though his steps grew quicker once he was out of everyone's view. As soon as he reached the front door, he raced down the incline and zoomed through the town. As if fearing for his life, he boarded his boat and raised the anchor in record time. He wasn't dying for this shady shipping job. Any minute now the other Ambassador could open his package, and he had no intention of still being findable by then! Only when his vessel sailed over the horizon and the whole island had sunk into the sea could he release his held breaths.
***
Within the box, the form of the pinkette was curled into an uncomfortable fetal position into the too-small crate. The straw packed around her was brown and crusty from the blood still pouring from her wounds when she was packed in, but had since clotted and dried. The bedding poked and prodded her broken form like large-gauge needles, but she didn't react. In fact, if not for the shallow breathing, she looked quite dead. Her bruised and bloody face was expressionless and her skin was whiter than porcelain. One of her arms was folded at an unnatural angle behind her and still had the residue of Thana's spider silk, as did her other limbs. Clothing hung off of her in dirty strips Her unconsciousness was self-induced at this point. What she'd gone through at the hands of Thana had broken her mind and spirit more than her body, and even the physical brutality that followed at the hands of paltry cowards couldn't rouse her from the stupor. Her wounds weren't healing and her magic power wasn't returning. What was the point? None of this was real. It was all a dream she was trapped in after deactivation. But wait, did that make it any less real? She was so confused, and without being able to reason it out with her closest friends/ the figments that made the dream worth dreaming, how would she know what was "real". Could she decide what was real? Would it be wrong to continue the dream as if it was a real life? Or was it a real life after all and Thana had been lying? How...how would she ever know the truth? Did the truth matter?
It was all too much and she'd shut herself down. She laid like a broken doll in her doll box, waiting for someone to open it up and decide her fate.
[wc: 851 || @Johann @Amalie ]
Worse still, he couldn't just dump the crate at the door and run. His instructions were clear. He had to walk it all the way in, take the wing to the east, and locate the offices. He was to leave it on Johann von Weiss's desk since it was addressed specifically to him and marked both confidential and urgent. No one seemed to notice that the corners of the wooden box were discolored with dried blood, and thankfully it had stopped leaking a couple of days prior. The noises had stopped as well, so the man believed the contents to have finally died. At least he didn't have to worry about her popping out of the box and decapitating him anymore.
Passing only a few distracted members in the hall, the cart rolled up to a desk in the clerical area of the guild. The nameplate on the desk read 'Helga', and as he cleared his throat the bespectacled secretary lifted her eyes from her paperwork and quirked a brow. "Delivery for Johann von Weiss?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent enough to pass as a regular delivery man. It must have worked because after she stood, double-checked the shipping info, and unlocked the door behind her. "Just leave it on the table next to the biggest desk. I'll let him know he's received a package," she said with a sigh, taking his clipboard and signing it.
After he unburdened his cart of the crate, he wheeled back out and closed the door. Nodding a goodbye to Helga, he nonchalantly walked his lighter cart back down the hall, though his steps grew quicker once he was out of everyone's view. As soon as he reached the front door, he raced down the incline and zoomed through the town. As if fearing for his life, he boarded his boat and raised the anchor in record time. He wasn't dying for this shady shipping job. Any minute now the other Ambassador could open his package, and he had no intention of still being findable by then! Only when his vessel sailed over the horizon and the whole island had sunk into the sea could he release his held breaths.
***
Within the box, the form of the pinkette was curled into an uncomfortable fetal position into the too-small crate. The straw packed around her was brown and crusty from the blood still pouring from her wounds when she was packed in, but had since clotted and dried. The bedding poked and prodded her broken form like large-gauge needles, but she didn't react. In fact, if not for the shallow breathing, she looked quite dead. Her bruised and bloody face was expressionless and her skin was whiter than porcelain. One of her arms was folded at an unnatural angle behind her and still had the residue of Thana's spider silk, as did her other limbs. Clothing hung off of her in dirty strips Her unconsciousness was self-induced at this point. What she'd gone through at the hands of Thana had broken her mind and spirit more than her body, and even the physical brutality that followed at the hands of paltry cowards couldn't rouse her from the stupor. Her wounds weren't healing and her magic power wasn't returning. What was the point? None of this was real. It was all a dream she was trapped in after deactivation. But wait, did that make it any less real? She was so confused, and without being able to reason it out with her closest friends/ the figments that made the dream worth dreaming, how would she know what was "real". Could she decide what was real? Would it be wrong to continue the dream as if it was a real life? Or was it a real life after all and Thana had been lying? How...how would she ever know the truth? Did the truth matter?
It was all too much and she'd shut herself down. She laid like a broken doll in her doll box, waiting for someone to open it up and decide her fate.
[wc: 851 || @Johann @Amalie ]