Jacinda's voice echoed in Lucy's mind, making her miss her mother terribly. She was cold and curled in the corner of a cell. This was the sort of place she read about in scary stories, not a place she'd ever willingly go. She was upset with herself for not fighting back hard enough, for not paying more attention to her surroundings, and the other half had anger directed at the cultists who kidnapped them. Other adults and other kids.
Her hair was a mess, with bits of dried blood from landing on the floor where they dropped her after bringing her in. Leaves, twings and dirt clinging to a few strands. Her jeans and jean jacket had seen better days, but she was still alive. She was still fighting--even if that meant mouthing off to the guards--not an idea one should follow through when held captive. Demanding to be freed got her a good smack on the face, causing her lip to split. She tried hard not to cry from it, but the pain stung badly.
She curled in further on herself, tired and hungry from lack of food. Being a brat didn't win her any brownie points, but it was the only thing she could do. She wasn't going to play nice if she could help it--and she really wished she had taken lessons in sword combat or had to fight.
A familiar voice caught her attention, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. Someone was cupping her face and involuntarily flinched. Her lip still hurt. She opened her eyes and looked so confused.]
phase II
Be brave.
Be strong.
Jacinda's voice echoed in Lucy's mind, making her miss her mother terribly. She was cold and curled in the corner of a cell. This was the sort of place she read about in scary stories, not a place she'd ever willingly go. She was upset with herself for not fighting back hard enough, for not paying more attention to her surroundings, and the other half had anger directed at the cultists who kidnapped them. Other adults and other kids.
Her hair was a mess, with bits of dried blood from landing on the floor where they dropped her after bringing her in. Leaves, twings and dirt clinging to a few strands. Her jeans and jean jacket had seen better days, but she was still alive. She was still fighting--even if that meant mouthing off to the guards--not an idea one should follow through when held captive. Demanding to be freed got her a good smack on the face, causing her lip to split. She tried hard not to cry from it, but the pain stung badly.
She curled in further on herself, tired and hungry from lack of food. Being a brat didn't win her any brownie points, but it was the only thing she could do. She wasn't going to play nice if she could help it--and she really wished she had taken lessons in sword combat or had to fight.
A familiar voice caught her attention, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. Someone was cupping her face and involuntarily flinched. Her lip still hurt. She opened her eyes and looked so confused.]
..Jim?
[Was he kidnapped too?]