Snippet #1391648

The Facility- Dungeon

The smell of prisons, jails, holding cells, it was always a very similar fare of scents. Mold was a staple, even in newer facilities for some reason as was the strange damp musk of evaporated...unpleasantness, that always seemed to hover right in front of one's nose. Probably the only two things that set this one apart from most, Eos noted, was the mildew tang of slightly wet fur and a faint undertone of sterilizing agents. Either they kept this place cleaner than it looked in the poor lighting, or there were numerous surgical tools and--their cause of course--interrogations. It was strange that there were so few prisoners though...were executions coming back into fashion?

Eos distracted himself by stroking an emaciated feline that seemed to think this man wasn't stuck up enough to kick his furry behind out. It was correct in that assumption, and Eos had to give it credit for playing it smart as well: Just in case the cat's newfound source of comfort decided to get hostile, it had it's claws brandished and ready as it paced before him. The shackles binding his hands behind Eos made the petting awkward at first, but both he and the bony animal adjusted. After an hour or so of this the cat was lying asleep on his lap. Hm. Seems I have a way with the hairy ones...

“Eos,” The voice that rang off of the cell walls was smooth and silibant, unwavering despite the vexation that made her voice sound slightly sharper than it should have. It made his blood boil underneath the skin. Eos's head shot up and he was in motion. “Lord Gilgamesh believes you are responsible for the death of one Marquis Adam Goldwater. I would hear your reply. And please-” By the time she had finished her sentence a series of popping sounds fired off in rapid succession, the shoulders being displaced and unhinged then shifting back into place again as the prisoner brought his arms back in front of him. “I assure you that you are better off with the truth than an attempt to be coy.”

At this point, Eos was reaching through the bars, hands splayed out revealing the black disks tattooed in the center of each palm. The man's dark eyes were blank and distant and a fire glowed somewhere within. He disjointed his right arm to give the left three more inches of reach past the bars holding this woman from her death. Fingers grasped the air a hair's bredth away from the treacherous whore's nose. So badly did he wish to break that lovely face into a thousand bloody pieces splattered along the--"You aren't the Queen."

Eos's eyes focused once more on the world before him and he slowly retracted his arm. With casual indiffference he regarded Loki and slid his dislocated arm back into place without so much as a wince. Curious, appraising eyes roved up and down the form of the sable lass as her entourage was largely ignored. "You look almost exactly like her...you know, except for the whole guilty eyes part. Whenever she looked at us...the bitch couldn't keep a straight face." He flashed a wistful smile. "Am I being released for good behavior? And why isn't that snake Amon here? I figured he'd want to put his favorite dog out of it's misery...." His trail of thought died in his throat. Eos looked at the princess quizzically. "Are you even old enough to know of us...?"

He wiggled his fingers to indicate his hand. The vagabond had heard absolutely nothing of what Loki had stated earlier. With his free hand, Eos picked his ear, looked at whatever had come out distatefully and flicked it at the princess's escort. A few feet away, the cat was stretching and staring at him expectantly. Neither noticed the bloody furrows left by the feral creature's claws on his thigh.