Stare simply stared at him for a long time, grinding the sides of her beak together. For a single moment she wished he could read her mind right now, so she could hiss at him. You fucking bastard. Even though her powers could not work on him in the slightest, she threw all her hate, anguish and despair at him, wishing all the nightmares and necrosis she could.
"Well?" he asked, pressure behind his words.
Not hiding her loud clack of her tongue against her beak, a signal she used to communicate severe distaste, Stare twisted around, and began to stalk over to the far door. The one with a small window and showing deep red within. Her claws dug into her palm as she strode with clear frustration, the end of the rope gripped into her palm. She tried to ignore the gulping cry as Sable hurried to follow, reminding herself that this was probably one time in future many when Vitruvion would shame her.
Shoving through the door, she dropped the rope and let her eyes very briefly scan the room. The same deep crimson and scarlet drapes washed over the room, as well as the rich tapestries. A massive four poster bed, with loops and hooks hidden in the base, a table with two chairs, a chamber pot. It was exactly the same as she had remembered - the same lack of light, same absence of entertainment.
Her jaw locked and she twisted around to stare at Sable for a moment, seeing the elf standing with her eyes huge and breathing in shallowly. By the door a shadow lurked and it took not much knowledge to understand it was Brer.
Watching. Waiting.
Fuck the man, fuck, fuck.
Stare grabbed her mythril dagger at her belt, and started the couple of steps back to Sable.
"Turn around," she grunted.
Sable did as she was bidden, a little eager apparently. Holding out her arms as far as she could go she stayed absolutely still as Stare cut through the ropes, reducing them to shreds. Soon a pile of frayed ends were gathered around them and a sigh was escaping Sable's lips.
"Oh my. That was ..."
"Stay here," Stare muttered, dropping her eyes. "I'll get someone to clear up. They listen to me in that respect." Carefully she sheathed the knife again.
There was a pause.
"You ... You are just going?"
Stare didn't look at her and roughly moved, not wanting to reminded of this part of her life for longer than was necessary. "I hate this room and I need to return. Goodbye."
"Wait!"
The call was so desperate and frantic that it made Stare pause. In the word she heard the pain and suffering that she herself had lived through, a myriad of different sorrows. Letting a groan run through her silently she twisted around and fixed her with a single eye. Sable looked entirely distraught, sunken and depressed.
"Hel- help me to escape," she whispered.
Stare did what she did best, and looked at her. Seriously and unmagical.
"I can't do that Sable," she said quietly. "Please do not ask me again."
"But you know what I'm going through!" the elf mumbled, "Please, Avis, please, Stare ..."
"I'm sorry," Stare said quietly, and turned away. She half jogged rom the room, uncomfortable and truly feeling as sick as Sable did. Behind her the door was slammed, and Brer turned the large key and various bolts. Locking Sable into the hell that Stare had already lived through.
