There's only so much time one can spend running through a limited version of drill and looking at cards before boredom sets in. Accustomed to burning away long, lonely hours with intense exercise, this would have been fine-- if she'd been in a state to keep it up. She's feeling better, but a few good meals, a good wash, and some salve don't quite make up for the stretch of time where she hadn't been fed at all. Nor has it cured her of all the bodily hurts of the battle back in Drearburh, or being dragged back to her current place of captivity in chains. Still, she's sort of expecting a second-meal reprieve (fuck knows what time of the day or night it is) where she might get at least a little bit of conversation.
She's surprised, then, to feel a low thud of something like disappointment in her chest when the guard delivers the food, dumping it unceremoniously outside her cage before sliding it over with a sword. She makes an effort to engage the woman in conversation - if one can consider insults engagement - only to be entirely rebuffed and ignored. So, she eats her second meal sullenly, alone, through the bars. Quietly aching with self-directed fury to find she sort of misses Lenore's company. “You're being pathetic Nav, get it together," is how she silently berates herself...not quite wanting to admit that those limited moments with her captor are the closest she's ever come to positive attention.
To pass the rest of her time she attempts further drill, stopping only when her aching body reminds her with sharp lights of pain and dizzying spells of exhaustion that she's still a long way from top form. She then falls back on the cards, even spends a good half hour singing a bawdy song she'd once heard in the Drearburh Guardroom. At the top of her lungs. On repeat. There's a distant kind of desire in her to elicit some attention from one of the guards-- she's heard vampires have hearing as keen as a dog’s, and has decided to test it. Perhaps one of them might yell at her to knock it off, or enticingly throw something at her. No such luck.
By the time Lenore finally makes an appearance, she's lying on her back and staring sullenly at the ceiling. Her head tips back as her captor waltzes through in a swirl of mist, and Gideon carefully schools her face into a neutral kind of boredom. Steadfastly Ignoring the frustrating little thrill of relief that rushes down her spine at the sight of her.
"Oh yeah, all good. I've been making friends with the guards. Had a great chat earlier, and then Blondie's armour just kinda fell off, out of nowhere. So then Eyepatch had to help her, but then her clothes fell off and we all thought, what the hell!! Time for an orgy. Just between you and me, I think Eyepatch is pretty into me. She said, ooooh, Nightmare, your biceps are magnificent!" the story she constructs here might give Lenore an idea of how she'd been filling her mind whilst staring at the ceiling.
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She's surprised, then, to feel a low thud of something like disappointment in her chest when the guard delivers the food, dumping it unceremoniously outside her cage before sliding it over with a sword. She makes an effort to engage the woman in conversation - if one can consider insults engagement - only to be entirely rebuffed and ignored. So, she eats her second meal sullenly, alone, through the bars. Quietly aching with self-directed fury to find she sort of misses Lenore's company. “You're being pathetic Nav, get it together," is how she silently berates herself...not quite wanting to admit that those limited moments with her captor are the closest she's ever come to positive attention.
To pass the rest of her time she attempts further drill, stopping only when her aching body reminds her with sharp lights of pain and dizzying spells of exhaustion that she's still a long way from top form. She then falls back on the cards, even spends a good half hour singing a bawdy song she'd once heard in the Drearburh Guardroom. At the top of her lungs. On repeat. There's a distant kind of desire in her to elicit some attention from one of the guards-- she's heard vampires have hearing as keen as a dog’s, and has decided to test it. Perhaps one of them might yell at her to knock it off, or enticingly throw something at her. No such luck.
By the time Lenore finally makes an appearance, she's lying on her back and staring sullenly at the ceiling. Her head tips back as her captor waltzes through in a swirl of mist, and Gideon carefully schools her face into a neutral kind of boredom. Steadfastly Ignoring the frustrating little thrill of relief that rushes down her spine at the sight of her.
"Oh yeah, all good. I've been making friends with the guards. Had a great chat earlier, and then Blondie's armour just kinda fell off, out of nowhere. So then Eyepatch had to help her, but then her clothes fell off and we all thought, what the hell!! Time for an orgy. Just between you and me, I think Eyepatch is pretty into me. She said, ooooh, Nightmare, your biceps are magnificent!" the story she constructs here might give Lenore an idea of how she'd been filling her mind whilst staring at the ceiling.