The Overcooked Cook
Light trickled in through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating dust as it danced its way down from the porous stone above. The blazing sun burned brightly past the worn walls of the holding cell. The clash of metal on metal sang throughout the stale air. The savage cries of the invaders shook the very foundations of the land. Cracked lips exhaled and a few shaky breaths were taken. Pale skin was marred with gashes and bruises; puss oozed from the worst one- a bite to the arm done by, at best, a wild animal-. Palms knelt eye sockets to try and rid the image that burned brightly behind them; the image of burning homes, crying women and blood. Lots and lots of blood.
'I was lucky enough to not have my ass eaten by the animals out there. But nowhere near lucky enough to escape it seems.'
A head full of matted blond hair turned and gazed out into the small hallway. There was nothing but more cells and the one lone door at the end of the hall. Leaning forward slim- almost feminine- hands reached out to pull the lanky body up; only to be pulled back down by the weight of the chains binding his legs. Struggling was futile with so little energy. Blue eyes dimmed and the one visible thin eyebrow lowered in exhaustion.
One last curse slipped past Loki's lips, as blackness clouded his conscious.
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