Gideon deals, following her captors instructions carefully, and they play what to her feels like a decent game, even if Lenore - once again - bests her at the last moment. She scatters the game with banter, partly because it's her natural default, but also to soothe her own still-sparking nerves. Hard not to think about the feel of the vampire's hands on her when they're both in this small, shut-in space. By the end of the second game she feels almost (almost) at ease, like she isn't shut up in a cage somewhere deep in the heart of enemy territory.
Lenore's departure leaves her with a tumult of mixed feelings; the touch of slim fingers against her bare shoulder makes her hot and bothered all over again, but right on the tail of that is the bombshell that Lenore might make time for her, only if she can. Her stomach drops hard like the moment before a fall, but outwardly she only shrugs, tongue clicking against her teeth.
"Yeah well, I can't guarantee that I won't have eloped with Eyepatch by the time you get back. No promises, you know?" and this is how she says goodbye.
It's not so bad, at first. She pulls the extra bedding in through the bars and honestly, they're of a better quality than anything she'd had at home. So she's still essentially sleeping on stone, which makes her bruised body ache abominably, but the pillow is decent enough. The blankets, though thin, at least provide a touch of extra cushioning and warmth. She fashions them into a messy nest in the left-hand corner of the cell, thinks about schlicking it to the memory of Lenore's fingers at her breast and the soft press of her lips against her forehead, but at the last comes over shy. The guards are not that far off, and sure they've probably already seen her naked or taking a piss or whatever, but for some reason the thought of them listening to her getting off seems a step too far.
She sleeps, and wakes, and pushes her body to exercise, push-ups and sit ups and squats until her muscles are aching and furious. She's brought food but it's left outside the bars by guards still nervy of approaching her, and each time she isn't graced by her captor's presence she feels a little more sullen. She's accustomed to being alone and ignored, more of the same shouldn't be a problem...but having experienced company that didn't seem to despise her leaves her quietly hurting for more of it. Stupid, pathetic, faithless-- some of the words she internally hurls at herself to reawaken her need for revenge. It all feels sort of hollow though, when Drearburh had provided her with such cold comfort that being locked up here is almost better. At least Lenore doesn’t look upon her with abject hatred.
She goes through the same routine with the one bawdy song, drags it out for far longer this time. Tries baiting the guards in other ways - details of how she'd slaughtered their comrades, sexy fantasies in which her guards take on starring roles - but they must be fucking well trained because they steadfastly ignore her. When the whole day - or night, or whatever, impossible to tell from inside a cage - has passed with nothing but her own company, she finds herself raw and listless with loneliness.
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Lenore's departure leaves her with a tumult of mixed feelings; the touch of slim fingers against her bare shoulder makes her hot and bothered all over again, but right on the tail of that is the bombshell that Lenore might make time for her, only if she can. Her stomach drops hard like the moment before a fall, but outwardly she only shrugs, tongue clicking against her teeth.
"Yeah well, I can't guarantee that I won't have eloped with Eyepatch by the time you get back. No promises, you know?" and this is how she says goodbye.
It's not so bad, at first. She pulls the extra bedding in through the bars and honestly, they're of a better quality than anything she'd had at home. So she's still essentially sleeping on stone, which makes her bruised body ache abominably, but the pillow is decent enough. The blankets, though thin, at least provide a touch of extra cushioning and warmth. She fashions them into a messy nest in the left-hand corner of the cell, thinks about schlicking it to the memory of Lenore's fingers at her breast and the soft press of her lips against her forehead, but at the last comes over shy. The guards are not that far off, and sure they've probably already seen her naked or taking a piss or whatever, but for some reason the thought of them listening to her getting off seems a step too far.
She sleeps, and wakes, and pushes her body to exercise, push-ups and sit ups and squats until her muscles are aching and furious. She's brought food but it's left outside the bars by guards still nervy of approaching her, and each time she isn't graced by her captor's presence she feels a little more sullen. She's accustomed to being alone and ignored, more of the same shouldn't be a problem...but having experienced company that didn't seem to despise her leaves her quietly hurting for more of it. Stupid, pathetic, faithless-- some of the words she internally hurls at herself to reawaken her need for revenge. It all feels sort of hollow though, when Drearburh had provided her with such cold comfort that being locked up here is almost better. At least Lenore doesn’t look upon her with abject hatred.
She goes through the same routine with the one bawdy song, drags it out for far longer this time. Tries baiting the guards in other ways - details of how she'd slaughtered their comrades, sexy fantasies in which her guards take on starring roles - but they must be fucking well trained because they steadfastly ignore her. When the whole day - or night, or whatever, impossible to tell from inside a cage - has passed with nothing but her own company, she finds herself raw and listless with loneliness.