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--- character:dakarai-n-sehla:taqnateh [2012/12/01 15:28] – created pinkgothic
+++ character:dakarai-n-sehla:taqnateh [2017/11/18 21:34] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
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 It didn't matter. Other than in abstraction, of being lead to a bed and tucked with surprising care into the same, of somehow having managed to peel out of his clothes and into a pleasantly silky black gown, he remembered nothing of the last few minutes of being awake, collapsing into sleep as soon as he lay on his side on that mattress.
+===== Second Chapter =====
+He awoke with a start, his breath hissing from him, eyes torn wide open. Where-?
+As the silken shadows of his pyjamas fell in cool, gentle touch against his skin, he remembered, and managed to dislodge himself properly from the dream he had. No, that battle was over, he had won it - there was no reason to have nightmares about it. He had won - and that alone was quick to transform his disoriented expression into one of delight.
+It did not last long.
+'...my... bag, where did I leave my-?' he thought, his eyes focussing on the room and the real world, lethargically, and he brought up his left hand to hastily wipe sleep from his eyes, the salty corn dismissed without second thought, letting his eyes relax. Focus came, settling on a mostly empty room. Comfortable, if oddly spartanic, but empty.
+In abrupt motion, he shifted from leaning on his right side to a sit, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed, ankles brushed by the edges of the silk pyjamas. These weren't his - no, he remembered it, vaguely, the gymleader had given him these. A part of his mind demanded he credit the gesture with generosity, but he felt there was more to this than just a missing bag.
+As his mind slowly followed his body into the waking world, it clicked.
+'...the badge... - my clothes... - my pokémon...?' His eyes widened further, taking in the room. His fingers were curled around the edge of the soft matrass of this bed. It was a bit much all at once - though, to be fair, one could assume the badge had simply yet to be given to him, that one had not wanted to disturb him, despite the agreement made; and the clothes could have been hung up to dry, which in turn would explain the absence of his pokémon and utensiles. As for his bag - he probably'd left it in the arena.
+Still, he felt prompted to lean forward exaggeratedly, pushing his head past his knees and off the bed slightly, glancing into the shadows under the bed in hopes he might make out the outlines of its single strap or its otherwise rectangular shape.
+Nothing.
+Suddenly, an entirely different thought struck him: What time was it? He felt well rested, but that could mean any amount of sleep that left his sleep cycles in tact. It might just have been roughly an hour and half since he lay down to sleep, then the lack of items made sense - or it could be many hours past the time he had hoped to rise and leave for Togi.
+He rose to his feet, bewildered.
+Had he told the gyml- had he told Jagannath when he sought to leave? He couldn't remember. He'd been so shattered after the battle, so completely exhausted, that those last crucial minutes were nothing but the roughest sketch of a memory of interaction. If he knew himself any, then he would have told the man of his plan, which meant-
+No, it implied nothing, though depending on what time it was, he could deduct the answers of the rest of his questions logically. If it was before the agreed time, then everything was fine and as it should be, perhaps with the exception of the gym badge not lying beside the bed on the small table with its bizarrely modern lamp. On the other hand, if it was beyond it, then something had gone horribly wrong, and he had to get out of here as soon as he got the opportunity to do so - though chances were that if this was the case, no such opportunity would grant itself to him.
+Time of day - there were no windows in this godforsaken room, so the exercise was not quite so simple. Really, his only choice was to stand up and meander about in this castle, find someone or something, and inquire about it, or stumble across a window, door, or his items. Whichever it was, he'd have to head out the door of his own room, first.
+A strange nausea seized him as he pushed to stand, aware of paranoia seizing his synapses, dictating the door had to be shut. It was so preposterous to his rational mind that he spoke his objection aloud: "Good god, Dakarai - you weren't drugged or chained, get over yourself, it's just in your head."
+Thusly motivated, he straightened and thrust forward toward the door, his eyes narrowing determinedly.
+His fingers curled around the handle of the door, pushing it down in enthusiastic ritual.
+The door did not budge.
+He let his hand slip from it, backstepping, feeling the blood drain from his cheeks, leaving him paled, his lips parted slightly to allow a gasp to escape. Amidst the churning sea of thoughts that had been spawned by the revelation, a single question persisted, like a beacon:
+Why?
+He had never been aware of his capricious nature - but as a moan of despair slipped from him, the last thing he expected himself to do next was to fall towards the door and assault it, snarl escaping him, left elbow battering against the inch of wood like a ram, until the ache became prominent enough to clear his mind.
+It felt as though he'd dislocated his shoulder and the skin had reached a level of irritation at which the gentle touch of his right hand's fingertips ached like white-hot fire scalding his skin. A wince, tears beginning to line the outlines of his eyes in a thin necklace of glittering silver - but he kneaded into his skin to warm and flex his muscles, his gaze latched onto that which had not budged an inch, listening to his breathing.
+He felt it this time, the urge to throw his weight against the door to break it open, rolling in from some distant part of his mind, and countered it with firm determination, grimacing: 'No, save your strength. You're not getting out of here until he lets you. You last ate several hours ago. You only have so much energy at your disposal, and if you want to get out of here, you'll have to focus it at your captor in a moment wherein his guard is down.'
+The badge. He was never going to get that badge, was he? No doubt this was why no one ever returned with it - no one he knew of, anyway. They all suffered the same fate, didn't they? And many of them had probably foolishly - as he had, though not to loss - subscribed to that deal. 'All or nothing,' he thought, bitterly. 'You fucking bastard.' He was angry because the deal had been broken, though. It seemed irregular. It seemed like something was wrong with this setup, even in its danger and underhandedness.
+He felt as though he were seeing clearly into the mind of the gymleader, discovering his ethics, and discovering them violated. It burnt in him like a fire, he was that sure of it, even though he had no evidence. It was as though something were telling him about Taqnateh - about his fate - without that he could draw any conclusions out into his conscious mind.
+He listened to his breathing. Inhale. Exhale.
+He let his eyes drift closed, feeling a mental exhaustion overwhelm him, and he let himself stagger mostly without coordination back to the bed, flopping back onto it unceremonially, a dull, empty stare fixing the wall beside it as though attempting to glean answers from //there//.
+The gym circuit was one big game of Russian Roulette - one had to know when to stop. The bullet of this particular gun had struck him down without that he knew he had been playing. Wagering, betting his life, without being aware of it. No, that wasn't true - he'd consciously wagered his life. But by rights of the game, he hadn't lost it.
+'Wait, Dakarai,' he told himself, trying to get himself to calm, his heart thumping eagerly in his chest, as though wishing to leap out and lead him into freedom. 'You don't know much about this game yet. The chance is small, but it may still be a string of innocent oversights. Or this may be more about fear than about anything substantial. Or perhaps he is simply trying to make you look like a fool. Particularly in latter case, you don't want to give him what he wishes, do you? So, calm yourself - close your eyes, gather your energies. And wait.'
+Seconds stretched to minutes, minutes to hours, and hours to a tortured eternity. He lost track of time quickly, having nothing to match it against, only the beats of his own heart, by now having settled back down to a semblance of normality, and the sheer level of boredom he found himself confronted with, a horrible and unfamiliar sensation in his mental landscape, as though someone were brutally thumping his synapses, leaving him with a dull but strong ache, it spread across the entirety of his mind.
+Boredom.
+If the purpose of his incarceration was to torture him, it had already succeeded, depriving him of the one thing he needed more than anything - activity. He itched for something to do, an urge which in itself sapped him of generous amounts of energy, and seemed impossible to halt, worsening his situation by the hour.
+[...]
+{{tag>[raw]}}