Usid

The prison cell was dark; lit mostly from the outside by the lamps that hung along the halls for the guards. Every prisoner wore some sort of chains, though not all had to wear the magical ones found on the angel that sat so quietly in his cell. Through the small silvers in his bandages, he glanced at his cellmate. That demon hadn't caused him any trouble... It was only his nature. The angel would forgive him. It was just his nature.

Nem slowly moved his gaze to the floor. The guards had told them they would return within an hour to pick them up and take them to the king. There, the king would give them the rules to their freedom. He smiled ever so slightly. Rules for freedom, just like always. Once again, he glanced up at the demon. The two hadn't been together all that long. Of course, New was never informed the reasoning to the demon's transfer to this cell. Nem smiled somewhat. He couldn't blame the demon if he had killed his roommate. Many of the people in these cells were worth the punishment for killing them. It was just a matter of time before they died anyway...

Nem looked down again. This cage was humiliating. He couldn't help but wonder if the elder angels were looking down at him in shame or if they took the chance to laugh. He couldn't even get his wings out in this place, none the less with these chains on. He stretched his hands, suddenly remembering just how much pain they were in. They needed blood rather badly, but the tight chains didn't seem to care about that. The second problem was how thirsty he was... The gag was getting excessive. He was pretty sure that it would eventually be the death on him.

He looked up at the demon once more. Surely he would have something to say. A taunt about how he was in a cage with an angel. Of course, Nem would forgive him... Not all demons were evil. It was just in their nature.

Tiffany felt like death warmed up. Her pink usually pristine hair was dishevelled and knotted. One side was in a pigtail but she had lost one of her hairties and the other side was hanging down over he face. She blew the loose hair out of her face and grimaced. Tiffany had a pretty face but right now it looked pretty awful. One eye was swollen and bruised with a nice purple sheen and she had a small sut on her lip with a trail of dried blood leading to her chin. Her simple, white blouse had a huge tear that exposed a small portion of her pink polka dot bra. Her cute, pink skirt seemed to be in reasonable condition if a bit crumpled. Her black, leather ankle-boots had vomit on them. She glanced down and sighed in relief when she noticed that her little, golden locket still hung around her neck. The previous night had been spent drinking at the local taven and now she had the biggest of hangovers. She groaned and tried to stand but two chains shackled around her wrists prevented her from getting up. Her stomach churned, her head pounded and her mouth tasted of vomit. I bet I look so attractive right now she thought sarcastically. Her eye was throbbing violently and she had a vague recollection of being punched. Suddenly it all came rushing back, the man who had tried grabbing her ass and how she had hit him over the head with a bottle. The whole pub had erupted into brutal pandemonium. At first it was fun, but then the guards had come, taken her stuff, clapped her in cuffs and sent her packing to prison where she had promptly passed out.
Hopefully I won't have to stay too long... A movement in the darkness opposite her caught Tiffany's attention. As her eyes adjusted to the light it revealed a cute, little girl about the age of twelve. Her vision was still fuzzy and she failed to make out the horns jutting out of the sides of her head.
"What the hell is a kid like you doing here?" she grumbled. She usually started a conversation politely and sweetly and then when the other person's guard was lowered she'd turn into a rude, little bitch. Today however, she wasn't in any mood to be polite.

Even in the hardly lit cell, Yaerxia could see his cellmate clearly. His white hair got on his nerves right away, it reminded him of salt. Just thinking about it makes his stomach curdle. He was actually thinking about how he should kill this guy, not that he was mean or anything (he wouldn't care anyway), he just hated that mop of white hair that always gave him shivers. He shifted his legs, the shackles were getting tighter (not that he minded) and he was starting to loose feeling in his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, his nails scraping his scalp, but he didn't feel anything. He glanced at the guy and sneered. He hated being in a cage, with an angel no less. He knew he had to be with him, since his last cellmate. Well, let's just say the cellmate had a disagreement with Yaer's commands. He didn't kill him, no, he was a demon who never killed in vain. He may have over exhausted the mate, but he guessed the guy didn't have enough stamina.

The outfit Yaer was wearing was free, but left the incubus so restless. He groaned as his legs shifted again, the leather shorts (really short) kept riding up, but he ignored it. His feet were clad in little slippers and his chest was covered with a bondage shirt, one that had buckles falling down off of it. His shackles were tight, but he one had them on his ankles and wrists. He also had a collar around his neck, tight, but not too uncomfortable. Under his blue-black eyes, was dark circles from his lack of sleep. He glance back at the angel and croaked out. He was dying from lack of conversation and...ahem, other things, but the gag looked like the guy probably wouldn't be able to talk. Either way, he needed to talk. "Hey!" He never heard the guy's name, all he remembered was that he was an angel. He was still angry.

Ridiculous, Kityana thought to herself once again. It wasn't the first time that she'd cursed her luck. No, the first time was when she'd been captured by the humans. That in and of itself was humiliating enough. She could feel the anger welling inside just thinking about the memory. This time, however, her thoughts were centered towards her wonderful cellmate. The golem stood still; stoic and silent. Her attempts at conversation were fruitless, thus adding to her frustration. The golem was a male, that much she had been excited about when she had first seen him. However, that excitement soon faded when she couldn't get him to hold a conversation with her. Only a few words would rumble from it's mouth every now and then, but otherwise, he was like stone. Smoldering stone, but stone none-the-less, she turned her eyes to look at the golem once more as she thought.

The second thing that was ridiculous about him was that she couldn't get close to him. The only time he would move was if she tried to approach him. She had no need to be chained against the wall for she had silver bracelets around her wrists that kept her powerful drow magic to a minimum. For the first several months, she'd tried to get her magic to overcome the silver. Forcing the tiny purple flames forth to try to get free, but she only managed to drain her energy. There had been one time she'd gotten close enough to him to touch him and withdraw the energy she could feel pulsing through him, but the moment she'd touched his body, her hand had burned. It had boiled down to the fact that she couldn't talk to him, he wouldn't allow her close enough to touch him and even if she managed to, she wouldn't gain anything from it.

"Would fate smile once on me? I would have settled for life in prison if I had a male to talk to and touch. This... this is humiliation," she grumbled to herself. Raising her hands in front of her face, she stared at the silver bracelets with hatred. After a moment, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. Kityana closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that she was never going to get her energy back. She probably wouldn't even see another man for the rest of her life. She sighed heavily.

Still as stone, the golem stood in his cell with his seemingly weak cellmate. He did hardly anything but follow the orders he was given when he first got here, "Stay right there." This drow woman seemed to need a man, not like this golem at all, a real being that had the capability of free-will, thought, and communication. Golems had no use for chatting, unless there were several of them. Even then they had no life they could talk about.

Troaw stared at the wall in front of him, he was at the side of the cell which looking in would be on the right. His former bright, white hot midsection was now a dim, scalding midsection. He had little moisture to bring back his former strength, these guards knew to not give him any water. The moisture in the air was enough to bring back little bits of power, but at this rate it would take close to 100 years to get back to his old state. He couldn't care less, because he doesn't even care and he is just following his orders and ethics. The thing is, had Troaw been at full strength when he was ordered to stay here, he wouldn't have to obey. Those wizards were weak compared to him, only together were they able to bring him down.

He released a flow of steam that was building up some pressure, the hot moisture filled the cell and spilled out a bit into the hallway beyond the bars. It heated up the area a bit and Troaw just took back in the moisture so now it was just heat. Thanks to his control over steam he could feel everything it touched and exposed every little detail about it. He had the ability to see, this just gave him a better feel for everything. He had done this time and time again so he could tell you everything about this cell, and nothing had changed from the time he did it a few hours ago.

Deeper, deeper, you come into the forest, pulled by a voice so sweet.
Come on, come on, you want to go deeper in to meet.
Quickly, quickly, come as fast as your small legs can run in the dark.

It was dark, the kind of darkness which engulf everything. She was afraid, afraid with things she even didn’t understand. The darkness was starting to swallow her. She can’t breathe, her chest felt constricted. It was scary. Scary scary scary scary scaryscaryscaryscary.

“(Giggles). Little children of llaiadains, what are you afraid of?”

She let out a loud gasp and then opened her eyes, checking her surrounding anxiously. Fear and panic clothed her mind. But only her dingy cell greeted her with its smelly scent and pungent odor.

“A-a dream.” She exhaled loudly. A dream. Just a dream. Calm down.

It was already three weeks since she was thrown to the jail and yet she still didn’t get use to the badly lit place. Occasionally, she would get a nasty dream because of the dark cell.

Raizel got up from her sitting position in the corner of the cell while write a spell in the air with her finger. ‘Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, bow down under my command, eternal blaze of dusk.’ The words materialized and turn into a circle with strange marking, a magic circle. From the center of the circle a very dim and weak flame appeared while the circle slowly vanished. She had looking down the moment the fire appeared. Of course the chains on her ankles would limit her magic and the lack of her prized magic quill also degraded her magic power. She only sighed, hoping the blasted chains would just disappear.

With new light accompanying the faint light from the outside, she finally could adjust her vision. It wasn’t that bright but it was enough. At least enough to realize that there was another person inside her cell. A woman and a pretty one at that, A new cellmate maybe, she mussed while carefully approached her. The unconscious person stirred then opening her eyes, showing her a pair of eyes with the color of the sky.

“What the hell is a kid like you doing here?” said the woman.

Raizel just blinked. She tilted her head to the left a little. Confuse was written all over her mind but her sentence was uttered with a straight face. “Bubble-gum woman, who are you calling a kid?”

"I've been called a lot of things over the years but bubble-gum woman has to be one of the best," she laughed. The kid looked like a kid but as Tiffany's vision adjusted she noticed the horns and the magical flame.
"Aw crap, you're some magical creature aren't you," she sighed. "Let me guess you're like a thousand years old or something..." Tiffany loathed magic, in a battle it should be a contest of brains, brawn and cunning. Throwing magic into the mix gave an unfair advantage. The girl seemed pretty serious, her face giving away nothing. As Tiffany gazed into her eyes she saw that they were far older than the rest of her face. It was clear the little girl's ife experiences outweighed Tiffany's few years upon the earth.

Neon walked in aimless circles around his dark prison cell, thinking, that was his thinking habit, walking in aimless, infinite circles. He kept his gaze on the ceiling above as it was crumbling and molding from years of no attention towards the living arrangements of the prisoners who inhabited the place. He thought continuously over if it was really worth it to be brought back to life only to be locked up without knowing who he was supposed to protect. It's been so long now that he's surprised his attention span allowed him to even remember what his true motives were in the cell. Not to mention the way he got here in the first place wasn't what everyone would call fair. He eventually stopped walking very abruptly as he he looked toward Mo's direction now.

"I really need some chocolate right now." He says with his forlorn eyes staring off.