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A Little Light Exercise (Jenever and Opal)

It was some two hours after the meal had been served and - largely - uneaten - that the guards began moving around with a fresh purpose. Those who had managed to eat a little seemed to be feeling no ill effects; either the Rulers had been very subtle, or the food was wholesome - or, at least, unpoisoned.

Now, however, it seemed they would have an opportunity to exercise.

With shouts and gestures, it was made clear that they would be released from the cage two at a time: Jenever and Opal, Tobias and Dot, Lazarus and Haakon, Seth and Morgan. It was also clear that - as well as an escort of six guards two and from the exercise yard, they would also have the company of the Lady's dark attendant, Simon.

A bare courtyard, bleak and grey, with walls of cold stone and a floor of packed, barren earth greeted them as they passed through the low-hanging passage that led from the Cage. With a grey and wintry sky overhead, it could be construed as 'outside', though the presence of their captors all around, armed to the teeth and alert, and the sheer walls topped with spikes soon quashed any such notion. A light drizzle spattered their faces, an unpleasant, spitting rain that gave no comfort and served only to churn the earth into clinging mud.

The prisoners stretched painfully; the taller of them had had to stoop to get through the low passageway that led here, and the Cage had hardly been comfortable. Some distasteful, shack-like latrines stood at the far end of the muddy courtyard, with grinning attendants who were obviously enjoying their prisoner's degradation. Beside the entryway, the Lady's attendant, Simon, stood; he seemed to almost blend with the rain, a pale shadow in black and silver finery, the only sign of wetness his black hair hanging slightly limp and lank over his impassive features.

He glanced at the guard sergeant, holding out one gloved hand. "The keys," he said candidly, but he was met with a disdainful sneer.

"Yer head must be as soft as yer spine," drawled the sergeant. "These here are my responsibility, and yer not to be trusted with them."

"I am aware of what is to be done with them," Simon replied softly, his tones clipped and precise. "I will release them for their ablutions and chain them after. Give me the keys. I will not ask again." He kept his hand out, and his eyes lowered almost demurely, not looking the bigger man before him in the eye. The sergeant gave a snorted laugh, which trailed off as Simon did not move, simply standing there waiting, expectantly. There was a long pause - the guards looked at each other, wondering what might come next, and the sergeant peered dimly at Simon, hearing something, perhaps, in that soft voice that Simon's quiet posture could never convey. Finally, with another sneer, the sergeant dropped the ring of keys into the mud, where they landed with a soft splat, before stepping on them with one hobnailed boot and grinding them down a little more.

"Be my guest," he finished with a short laugh, before he and his men moved away to take their positions around the compound. Simon never looked up, but instead bent gracefully from the waist and pulled the keys from the mud unashamedly, wiping them clean with black velvet gloves before stepping over to unshackle them one by one.

Opal quietly allowed the guards to bring her into the open yard. Her eyes looked around for egress, but finding none, her shoulders slumped. She turned and allowed Simon to remove the manacles. But when she saw the latrine with no door, she stopped.

Opal turned on Simon, a fury in her fair face. "I have been robbed, chained, drugged, mishandled, gagged, dressed in filth, given food to eat like an animal, and rotted straw to sleep on," she snarled up at the pale, dark haired man. "But I will not relieve myself in public in front of common guards!" She stomped her bare foot on the stone, then winced slightly in pain. She bit her lip, then glared at Simon.

He looked back without emotion, though there was definitely something almost animated in the pits of his eyes. For a moment, he almost looked as if he were thinking, but he was so motionless, despite the rain softly pattering across his face, so unblinking and still that he may as well have been simply a statue, left here as a forgotten diversion in some bleak courtyard.

Finally he turned his head, glancing at the guard lounging insouciantly against the wall. "Leave her," he said quietly. "Please."

The guard frowned, and pulled himself more upright. "You don't give the orders around here, worm," he snarled.

"That is why I am asking," Simon said mildly, as if the man had simply asked him the time of day. "Leave her, please." The soldier made as if to snap something else, but stumbled over his words a little, as if not quite understanding what he could say to that. Finally, he turned, hawking a thick gobbet of phlegm accurately between Simon's boots. The younger man seemed not to notice, removing his long black mantle wordlessly and hanging it high across the doorway, catching it on splinters and loose nails to erect a curtain across the latrine. Picking up Opal's manacles again, he inclined his head slightly towards the makeshift curtain. "I hope that will suffice."

Jenever, cheeks still flushed with anger and humiliation at her ill-advised attempt to change her state, drew herself up to her full six feet, and put on her most regal and queenly air. Her eyes were blazing.

Simon seemed not to notice as he moved up towards her in turn, keys in hand and Opal's shackles under one arm. As she was unchained to perform her functions, she sent a quick, lethal glance toward her jailors, Simon especially. She tended to mistrust good-looking men, and to resent them for various reasons she would never admit to anyone, even herself.

Once she was finished, before she was rechained, she made a quick razorlike movement toward him, the ghost of a blow. She expected to be punished for it, but it would be worth it, she thought, to see how he responded, and how well.

She was taller than he was by a little, and she had meant it to fall just short of his jaw, but he stepped into it almost carelessly, and it caught him with a moderate amount of force fair on the point of the chin. Simon's head rocked back, but no sound escaped his lips, and he continued forward, moving past her arm to stand beside her. Jenever fell back from him, her long, powerful legs crouching instinctively into a combat stance, but he was not moving any more, and stood instead with his hand upraised, his palm towards the guards on the wall who now had their crossbows aimed directly at her, through him, and she could see from the looks on their faces that it mattered little to them that he was interposed. But they held their fire for now, his placatory gesture seeming to forestall them, and the tension of the moment began to evaporate slowly.

"Do not think that they will not shoot," Simon said quietly, looking around at Jenever now. "They are the ones you need to worry about out here, not I." He held up her chains. "I need to put these back on now, please."

She stared at him in disbelief for a second. She could not get her mind around the fact of him, what he was, and how he could be so conciliatory while at the same time serving those who would torture and kill her. He reminded her of Z'Shar...not a complimentary reference, but one that made her pause.

She reached out her hand lightly, touching his face where he had forced her to hit him, then shrugged and turned around to let him chain her. "Why did you do that?" she said quietly, ignoring his comments about the guards. "I just wanted to see how quickly the Lady's companion could move."

"Then you should have asked," he said matter-of-factly, fastening the chains again. "I would have told you, and honestly at that. And the guards - they cannot really hurt me, though they are evidently able to hurt you, despite your obvious prowess. If they could not kill you, they would not be here."

"Excellent at avoiding questions," she purred, "and always harping on the guards. So they can shoot me, maim me, kill me... It would be a worse death to fear such as they are. But you let me hit you, and then said the guards couldn't hurt you... do you want someone to hurt you?"

The manacles were rough on her scratched skin, and she was bleeding a little, but she paid no attention. The guards might be more eager to kill or maim her, but he was wrong on one count, Simon was still the one to worry about.

He stopped then, not releasing her wrists straight away, his eyes fixed on the small trickle of red against the bronze of her skin. "Take care how you cut yourself," he added softly, letting her go at last and stepping away, his voice catching ever so slightly. "It is more dangerous than you think."

She felt herself smiling, although in reality her heart was pounding hard in her chest and her shoulders were tensing. She had a power over this one, then, it seemed, and although it was dangerous, very dangerous, it was a good thing to know.

Opal exited the latrine from around the curtain of Simon's cloak, her eyes widening as she took in the events. She turned and removed Simon's cloak from the doorway, then turned back and waited for him to finish with Jenever.

"Thank you," she said simply, handing the cloak to him. "for the courtesy. It was appreciated." Opal swallowed, then looked at Jenever's chains. "I suppose it would be too much to ask to have my hands shackled in front of me?" she asked, almost embarassed. "I'm not a fighter, and I could at least feed the others with some dignity." She looked up at Simon with her green eyes, waiting for an answer.

For perhaps the first time, he looked flustered, and his expression became almost pained as his brows came together, a look of confusion rampant across his fine-boned features. "If - if you will tell me something, then," he answered finally, swallowing nervously. "Tell me why you left the Lady's Academy. Tell me about it all."

Opal looked into Simon's eyes for a moment, measuring. Then she slowly shook her head no. "I'm sorry," she replied in a bare whisper so that only he could hear. "But if she found out you knew the real truth, she would hurt you."

Opal turned around and held her hands behind her so Simon could chain them.

He looked almost hurt at that, and he slowly mouthed the word 'please', but no sound came out. Instead, he wordlessly chained her hands, pocketing the keys and walking away, swinging the mantle onto his shoulders with a strangely muted swirl of fabric.

Opal watched him leave with a strange expression on her face, then...

"Five minutes," the guard sergeant called from the corner.

Opal sighed as the guard called out. She looked at Jenever and shrugged. Then she walked around the stone yard for the time remaining to them, slightly favoring one foot.

Jenever watched wordlessly the exchange between Simon and Opal. It had to do entirely with things and feelings she did not understand, but all the same it intrigued her.

Once Opal began walking Jenever fell into step beside her, and murmured so quietly even the woman walking beside her would have to strain to hear, "He likes you... I think."

Tiny frown lines appeared above the bridge of Opal's nose as Jenever spoke her words.

Then, louder, "Stop, please, and let me see if you cut your foot."

She dropped to one knee before Opal, offering the other knee as a footrest.

Opal sighed again, but stopped and turned around, lifting up her foot so Jenever could see the bottom of it. "I think I just bruised it," she said, sounding just a tiny bit testy.

It appeared, however, that when she had stamped her foot in vexation, she had come down rather heavily on a small stone in the mud that had cut into the softer skin between her first and second toes - although it was a little hard to see quite how badly through the muck that now once more caked her feet. There was, however, amidst the mud, a darker stain of blood.

Opal looked around the yard a bit self consciously as Jenever examined her foot. Then the guard sergeant came over. "Get inside." Opal dropped her foot and started into the cage area, favoring her right foot.

Jenever stood up, looking concerned and a trifle angry. She followed after Opal quickly, her gait showing she was boiling for another outburst. Ignoring the guards completely, she snapped, "You do not have to jump for them. You are injured, let me do what I can for it. It will get infected, if it hasn't already."

Opal looked up at the much taller amazon as she walked toward the low, dark tunnel. "Treat it how?" she asked pointedly. "Your hands are chained behind you. There is no clean water, no clean cloths, no soap. These... men," she jerked her head towards a cluster of guards, "do not care if we live or die, only that they live and they are not blamed for our deaths."

Opal smiled grimly at Jenever and dropped her voice. "We can clean it properly when we get out of here. I'm not that weak. I've lived through what would kill another," she said with a touch of bitterness. "So... shall we behave ourselves and live another day?" Opal indicated the tunnel back to the cage with a nod of her head.

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