"You're like the snow; beautiful and cold."
Seris hadn't felt the urge to cry since Valbrand shackled her; she had managed to endure and hold herself somewhat together even when he had yanked her past Fort Loyalty's gates, even when Jared had to talk sense back into her. It was the night, the first night, that she truly feared the most. Venturing into the prison camp was both a mystery and an obvious danger--bringing about so many criminals, Silven, Mages, and non-Ailor together in one spot was a surefire way for trouble to arise. She knew that.
Yet even by knowing, even when she was supposed to feel comforted in having the barracks to herself just for tonight, she felt more alone than she had in a very long time. Abandoned. Left there to suffer and dwell among those lesser than her.
She tossed and turned on the hay cot, trying to fit more blanket around her frame; tucked it close to her chin and over her ears. Seris had to curl into something akin to the fetal position solely for her body to remain fully covered. Even then, it wasn't warm enough. Her fingers tightened their grip on the thin fabric, hoping that by some miracle, it would make her retain more heat. It wasn't enough.
No one was coming to help her. No one was there for her to talk to. No, now she was a single woman in a soon-to-be giant pool of ne'er-do-wells and thugs. The cretins, the lowlifes and the vagabonds! She was a single piece from a glass menagerie in the middle of a mud pit; a single gemstone among a horde of jagged boulders and rocks. The one thing she never wanted came to be--how was she going to deal with it? How was she meant to deal with it? Surely there were ways non-warriors could fight there way through tough ordeals. There had to be a solution waiting in front of her. Try as she might to think one up, she couldn't.
Joasaie couldn't break her out. Alvaro wasn't coming to save her. Valbrand wasn't going to. Not even the Lords Howlester would consider arriving to save their precious servant from the oppressive tropes coming to keep order at Fort Loyalty. No guaranteed security once promised to her could prevent this monstrous amount of trouble from finding its way to her. It must've already lingered in her shadow, she thought. Why else would she be tormented so much already?
The pit of her stomach turned, wrenching with anxiety; pitting as it allowed more worries to seep into her conscious mind. Her glimmering, reflective eyes locked on the single candle kept near her cot, longingly gazing to it like it could help her through these next countless days within the looming walls of the Fortress. The longer she silently pleaded for the flickering flame to help, to listen to her thoughts, the easier it was for her eyes to well. She curled her hands into begging prayer's fists, holding them to her chest while she quietly wept--hoping that her whimsical, powerful mother somehow heard her cries for help, that whatever might've been listening could pick up the muffled cries of a single Silven who just wanted to be saved.
Seris was alone. She was alone in a place where she shouldn't be, where she didn't belong, and damn did it hurt to realize that. The promise that she was told rang in her head, over and over until her body forced her to sleep, where she might temporarily forget that all of this was happening. She was hopeful.
