Zandelia’s position was quickly further compromised, despite the small gain she had managed to weasel for herself by getting the fetid gag out of her mouth. Slightly dazed still from the impact of her head upon the stone floor she was not able to put up much of a fight as one of the thugs took her chair away from her – a fact she hated as she could have used the damned thing as a weapon if given the right opportunity. Still, she was able to inflict a few bruises as they hauled her to her feet, head lashing out, along with knees and feet, at her would be man-handler and hearing some satisfactory grunts of discomfort as some of her attack met their mar – she had been aiming for the abdomen and the kneecaps.
Bastard will hopefully be a bit weaker now and they would have expected some struggling, it would only be natural and therefore accepted hopefully she told herself, keeping her mind focused upon the present and not the future. She would rather search for possibility than driver herself insane with receding hope.
When they were finished she knew she would be unable to do much in the way for fighting back physically for some time to come. Her legs were splayed to each side, creating a good three foot gap between her ankles, an unstable space even if she managed to get back to the floor – though why they needed her legs open she tried not to think on, it was a subject that brought bitter memories to the fore and she wrestled them back. The fall to the floor would not be too bad if she could manage to break free, though she’d still have to contend with three burly men. Those points were also completely ignoring the fact that she was being forced to bear her own body weight with her arms to prevent her shoulders from being damaged – possibly dislocated. After a few moments her muscles began to pick up the strain and she hoped they wouldn’t tire any time soon.
And the shyking petcher licked me, damned freak! she raged as she tried to move her head about to get a real sense of how her body not related to the rest of the room.
She had hoped they would remove the rope from between her teeth themselves so that conversation would be easier, however they left it for her to figure out. Their sadism was beginning to show quite starkly now and she knew she would have to be careful. Insults in response to statements they would possibly accept – but anything beyond that was sure to bring pain, perhaps even that would bring pain. She had heard how they broke people in the Daggerhands and she resolved to use that knowledge to clothe herself in some protection at least.
Maintain your sense of self, they take that away from you Zand and they’ve got everything. Bastards… she forced the thought into the depths of her mind so it would be difficult to cast out in case of torture – a possibility that seemed likely.
“Hanging a woman by a meat hook on their first date? I’d call that the work of a bastard more like, so you’re right there,” she retorted, pushing herself up enough on the hook itself to cause a slackening of the rope so that she could, with some struggling of her jaw and head, spit it out so it fell around her neck – not the most ideal place but better than in her mouth, she could try and talk her way out then.
“Yes…it’s damned comfortable up here, I get a good view and everything. Maybe one day you’ll get to try it to eh?” she felt around the hook as she bought some small portion of time with her words, finding it to be damningly blunt and only of use if she could get free, not in getting her free.
I wonder, though, if I could perhaps try and lever the rope off the hook if it were loosened enough? she mused as she tried to move her wrists against each other slowly, trying to not illicit observation of her attempt.
“Perhaps I will meet your mother and report you, I’m quite good at talking when the occasion calls for it. Though why you would expect me to give you my name when you’ll kill me anyway? It seems a poor trade, my name for being hung up here. And if you know it already you need not have me confirm” she set about trying to keep the man, Nathaniel, in conversation as long as possible – it forestalled the inevitable a little longer, perhaps enough to bring a turn in conditions.
“The real question, though, is why even take me? I must know something without even knowing it if I’m worth all this. We could’ve dealt with this politely, you obviously know my reputation if you know who I am. So…why do this?” she asked, her mind frantically searching through her knowledge of Ravok and its denizens, trying to piece together who would want her ‘dealt’ with by this man and his thugs.
“Oh, and by the way, pleased to meet you. I’ll assume that Nathaniel is an assumed name, so you can have mine – Amelias” she told him, pulling one of the many she used from her skull – she doubted he knew it but his investigators could corroborate it. If he knew her real name he would dismiss it and she would know that he knew.
Small things add up to large things eventually after all, pieces of scattered data coalesce to form a while and I need a way out of here she told herself as she continued to scowl at the man before her and work at her ropes, what little she could at any rate.