Page 37 of Lost Girl

"Just give it up, seriously. Save. Your. Breath. And get the fuck out!" she roars.

Silence.

Wendy and I exchange another look. This is awkward yet oddly insightful.

Neither one of them speak, but sheer moments later, the crackling of grass rents the air. One of them is leaving.

"Oh and, Phillipe?" Tinksley stops him mid-stride, "Don't come back trying this again—and those are the Captain's orders."

His footsteps resume, growing further and further away as he stalks back to the front of the palace. Tinksley’s movement shortly thereafter is nothing more than a whoosh.

Fucking leeches and their flashing bullshit. Probably the one and only thing I do find myself envious of. If wolves could move that quickly too...Well, let’s just say they’d be screwed.

“That was her dad, right?” Wendy whispers.

I nod.

“That was Peter’s dad, too.” A rhetorical question this time, more a statement than anything else.

I nod again anyway because it’s the truth.

“I could vomit just thinking about it. I can’t believe he would…” She cringes, hand falling to her chest in disgust. “Enough about that. I’m not going there right now. You should go, though, Tavi, just in case Tinksley comes down here again.”

I know, yet I don’t want to leave her. If I could curl up beside her and act as a protective barrier until the night comes, I would.

But that wouldn’t end well.

Throwing my head against the side of her face, I give her the most reassuring nuzzle I can manage, silently willing my ma to look after her again.I’ll be back, I promise.

“Will I see you soon?” she questions softly, pale blues boring into my browns as I pull back.

Holding her stare, I rise from my seated position onto all fours and offer another sure nod. Like I said, my word means everything. I don’t care what it takes to get her out of here, I will.

Wendy will be free.

And then she’ll be yours.

The faintest thought, a fleeting whisper that rolls through my mind, but one that would recur and soon possess me no less.

I just didn’t know it yet.

?Game of Survival - Ruelle?

Feels like it’s been days since I last saw Tavi, but really, it was just last night.

I’ve been laying here since, only moving long enough to relieve myself in that disgusting bucket when the pressure in my bladder becomes unbearable. Even through the slight cramping that emerges in its place, I’ve laid here like a rotting vegetable staring up at the stone ceiling as I attempt to count the days. If I’m correct, I’m due for my cycle any day now.

I want to die just thinking about it. If the ground opened up to swallow me whole, I’d probably jump in without hesitation.

Whether Tavi breaks me out of here or not, how am I supposed to deal with thathere?I mean, yes, there’s other women here but how do they—

You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

Yes, my subconscious is right. Fretting over it isn’t going to do or change anything, I suppose. Besides, I’m not sure how much more I can fret in the first place. My nerves are shot to all shit, especially after Tinksley’s rude awakening last night. I’m an anxious wreck, always sleeping with one eye open. If I get a solid four hours in one night, it’s a miracle. The exhaustion is real, to say the least, which in turn kills what little appetite I have.

I’m thankful to at least be givensomethingto eat, and I do try, knowing I need to preserve my strength, but past a few nibbles and I’m nauseous.

Could be because I’m starting to smell. I’m dirty, my hair’s a mess. After the initial post-Armand clean-up, the old woman’s presence has been solely to deliver my food. Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s Tinksley’s doing, but that’s not what’s important.

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