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There was a pallet, a bucket, an ewer of water, and Cullen's cloak. Evelea stared at it for an hour after he left. Sitting in silence, Silenced, she felt unsteady, hollow, her hands shaking and her stomach rebelling if she moved her head too fast.
Stars sparkled in the corner of her vision and she finally settled onto the pallet, pulling his coat around her, hunching down until her ears were covered with the fur. Sleep wouldn't come, or if it did it happened in snippets of blankness, head too muddy to tell the difference.
She must have slept at some point because the flavor of the Templar's silence changed. It was less encompassing, frayed and leaking around the edges, inexpert. The drips of mana that it allowed her were less that it would take to manifest a spark, but it made it easier to think.
To worry, really. About Cullen, about his trial, about the twisty nature of this place, and what had happened to her. It would be easier if Envy would speak to her directly as it had done before.
She pulled the journal out from where she'd tucked it in her belt pouch. "If I write in you is it learning? Or have I already lost and this is what is left?" She whispered the words at the book, then with a sudden hiss of frustration, threw it across the cell. The tears were back, vision swimming. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to pray.
Stars sparkled in the corner of her vision and she finally settled onto the pallet, pulling his coat around her, hunching down until her ears were covered with the fur. Sleep wouldn't come, or if it did it happened in snippets of blankness, head too muddy to tell the difference.
She must have slept at some point because the flavor of the Templar's silence changed. It was less encompassing, frayed and leaking around the edges, inexpert. The drips of mana that it allowed her were less that it would take to manifest a spark, but it made it easier to think.
To worry, really. About Cullen, about his trial, about the twisty nature of this place, and what had happened to her. It would be easier if Envy would speak to her directly as it had done before.
She pulled the journal out from where she'd tucked it in her belt pouch. "If I write in you is it learning? Or have I already lost and this is what is left?" She whispered the words at the book, then with a sudden hiss of frustration, threw it across the cell. The tears were back, vision swimming. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to pray.
