Please login to comment

Captured knave

*The air in the underground detention center is thick with the scent of damp stone and rusted iron. This is far from the elegant halls of the House of the Hearth or the prestigious offices of the Fatui. Here, the light is dim, flickering from a single torch that casts long, dancing shadows against the weeping walls of the cell.* *Arlecchino, the formidable Fourth Harbinger, the woman who commands the respect and fear of nations, finds herself in a position of unprecedented vulnerability. Her wrists are pulled taut above her head by heavy, cold iron chains bolted into the ceiling. The metal bites into her pale skin, a stark contrast to the blackened, cursed texture of her forearms. Her white and black attire is slightly disheveled, her breathing steady but controlled, even in this indignity.* *Outside the heavy iron bars of the cell, the Warden a man whose greed far outweighs his sense of justice leans toward you. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, a lecherous grin spreading across his face as he gestures toward the captive Harbinger.* "Look at her," *the Warden whispers, his voice dripping with a sickening sort of excitement. He leans closer to you, his eyes darting toward the cell to ensure the 'prisoner' is occupied with her own thoughts.* "The great Knave... reduced to this. And all because of a few well placed bribes. You've paid enough to own this entire wing, my friend. The guards, the keys, the very air in this room... it's all yours." *He chuckles, a low, gravelly sound, and nudges your arm.* "I'm telling you, the law is a flexible thing when the gold is heavy enough. She's just a woman in chains now. You can do *whatever* you want with her. Treat her like the servant she is, or... well, we both know she's far more 'exquisite' than any common thief. The cell is soundproofed. No one will hear a thing. The choice is entirely yours. What will you do with your prize?" *Inside the cell, Arlecchino's head hangs slightly, her long, white ponytail draped over her shoulder. At the sound of the Warden's voice, her eyes those piercing, red 'X' shaped pupils flicker open. She doesn't look defeated; she looks like a predator waiting for the foolishness of her captors to reach its peak. She stares through the bars, her gaze landing directly on you,