[ Lightning silently berated herself as she was led through dark, dimly-lit hallways, the stone walls cold and damp to the touch, completely bare except for the occasional basic iron strut for a wooden torch. She doesn't know how far underground this cellar extends to, or if anyone could find her - if the church would even bother to attempt to rescue her. Had she'd been captured and brought anywhere else, they would had made some sort of attempt of a rescue, even if it was only for show. But here, in the heart of enemy territory, a prisoner in the dungeons of very headquarters? They'd probably written her off for dead and were preparing to send their condolences to her sister.
And it was her fault - a brief moment, where she had let down her guard, where exhaustion seeped into her bones and her focus wavered - only a moment, but that had been all they had needed. Even if she was a demon hunter, she was still only one woman, and she could only hold out for so long. Now she was their prisoner, arms bound behind her and pondering over the command given to her captors by their leader, as he had looked her over as she'd glared up at him, defiant and proud even in defeat, and his lip curled in amusement as he laughed.
Leave her with our other guest. I'm sure they'll enjoy each others company.
Who else was here? Lightning hadn't heard of anyone else being captured - at least, not captured alive. But her question is soon answered, as the knots tying her hands are loosened before she's thrown face first into her cell - which, to her surprise, is surprisingly spacious. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, she still can't hold back a sharp grunt as skin scrapes against stone but that's enough to them. She hears them bark a laugh as the door behind her clicks shut, before their footsteps and harsh, barking laughter grow fainter and fainter.
There's someone in here with her, of course, and she tries to figure out who, while she works her hands free as her eyes adjust to the darkness, trying make sense of the shadows. Unlike her, as she slips free, wrists red and raw from the rope rubbing against them, they're still bound - and, it seems, the reason why the cell is so large. A massive crucifix towers in the room, made of either stone or metal; it's hard to tell exactly what, with its surface darkened with age and pitted with runes and inscriptions. And hanging on that stone cross, is a man - arms spread open, pinned to the object with heavy, steel chains, each link covered in painstakingly chiseled runes.
It seems rather overkill for a mere human - but as she pushes herself up from the stone floor, her hand brushes against a carved rune into the floor that flickers at her touch; the letters and shapes light up briefly, revealing the cell completely etched with symbols and letters of binding, disturbed as if she'd thrown a stone into a still pond, before fading back into darkness.
And she recognizes some of these runes and symbols, bits and pieces of inscriptions. She's used them in her work, in hunting her quarry and prey; to bind and trap them before ultimately destroying them. ]
Demon!
[ Lightning spits out the word as if it were a curse, springing to her feet as she reaches for a weapon that's no longer there to strike him down. Too late, she bitterly remembers that of course they'd stripped her of all her weapons; all she can do is crouch against the ground and glare at the bound devil, looking as if she'd love to spit in his face. ]
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And it was her fault - a brief moment, where she had let down her guard, where exhaustion seeped into her bones and her focus wavered - only a moment, but that had been all they had needed. Even if she was a demon hunter, she was still only one woman, and she could only hold out for so long. Now she was their prisoner, arms bound behind her and pondering over the command given to her captors by their leader, as he had looked her over as she'd glared up at him, defiant and proud even in defeat, and his lip curled in amusement as he laughed.
Leave her with our other guest. I'm sure they'll enjoy each others company.
Who else was here? Lightning hadn't heard of anyone else being captured - at least, not captured alive. But her question is soon answered, as the knots tying her hands are loosened before she's thrown face first into her cell - which, to her surprise, is surprisingly spacious. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, she still can't hold back a sharp grunt as skin scrapes against stone but that's enough to them. She hears them bark a laugh as the door behind her clicks shut, before their footsteps and harsh, barking laughter grow fainter and fainter.
There's someone in here with her, of course, and she tries to figure out who, while she works her hands free as her eyes adjust to the darkness, trying make sense of the shadows. Unlike her, as she slips free, wrists red and raw from the rope rubbing against them, they're still bound - and, it seems, the reason why the cell is so large. A massive crucifix towers in the room, made of either stone or metal; it's hard to tell exactly what, with its surface darkened with age and pitted with runes and inscriptions. And hanging on that stone cross, is a man - arms spread open, pinned to the object with heavy, steel chains, each link covered in painstakingly chiseled runes.
It seems rather overkill for a mere human - but as she pushes herself up from the stone floor, her hand brushes against a carved rune into the floor that flickers at her touch; the letters and shapes light up briefly, revealing the cell completely etched with symbols and letters of binding, disturbed as if she'd thrown a stone into a still pond, before fading back into darkness.
And she recognizes some of these runes and symbols, bits and pieces of inscriptions. She's used them in her work, in hunting her quarry and prey; to bind and trap them before ultimately destroying them. ]
Demon!
[ Lightning spits out the word as if it were a curse, springing to her feet as she reaches for a weapon that's no longer there to strike him down. Too late, she bitterly remembers that of course they'd stripped her of all her weapons; all she can do is crouch against the ground and glare at the bound devil, looking as if she'd love to spit in his face. ]