Military Headquarters Guardhouse :: Winterheart Rows of cells line the underground prison, making for a rather unfortunate sight and a most unpleasant stay. Grimy and dank, the cellblock is humid, poorly lit by hanging lamps that line the walkway often patrolled by on-duty military personnel. Each cell is small, equipped only with a sink, cot and toilet and sealed off from the main walkway by a large wall of unbreakable iron bars. Contents: Pride Obvious exits: Upstairs From afar, Siegfried teehee The death had not been a fun experience, to say the least. Interesting, to be sure. And not something Tai'en had ever expected to feel, only to come back again able to remember it. At least, not with the same life, as the same person. Dying and reviving itself was not the most disturbing part of her situation, though. It was the reviving within a dark cell, instinctively reaching out, and being /completely unable to grasp Essence/ that disturbed her the most. That alone told her where she was, though, at least in a general sense; and in a more specific sense, that she was in a jail cell was easy enough to discern. They'd taken all her possessions, as expected. At least, the easily-visible ones--the bracers, the weapons (those that hadn't fallen back in Middleton, at any rate), the cloak, her robes. The lenses they'd left, for which she was grateful. Bad enough to be here powerless without losing her vision as well. For the first few days she'd been alive again, she'd tested the boundaries of her cell, both physical and magical. Pacing from one end to the other, prying at the stones of the walls and the iron bars, running through all the Charms and spells she knew. Her efforts had been futile, and finally, after countless attempts, she'd taken the route of settling on her cot, closing her eyes, and meditating to pass the hours. In a way, it was almost nice, this time for undisturbed reflection. She'd designed several prototypes of new spells and plans for a redesign of Middleton's layout in the intervening weeks, as well as a new location for her own residence and a laboratory within that residence. It all meant very little, though, without materials to experiment with or the ability to manipulate the Essence around herself. Death is not exciting, nor is it a relief. It is not frightening, nor is it painful. The road leading up to it may be, but Death? Simply is. It is unknown. And what is unknown is always frightening to those who cannot understand. For High General Bradley, life, death and rebirth have been so inexoribly intertwined that these things can no longer be considered as unnerving, or frightening. Because it is known. He understands, that for those who truly /die/, who have the benefit of souls, the rebirth process is different. They are not rejected by a Gate from which they can never pass. Their... souls... are allowed to mindle in nothingness before they ultimately are guided back to their shells. It must be such a unique and wonderful thing, to have one of those 'souls.' Something that allows you to be... normal. Of course, though; a puppet has no need for a soul. And that is the greatest boon of all. After all... it is the easiest thing in the world to simply dance along strings as a higher power may dictate. Part of the duties of a puppet of the military, of a dog of war, is to oversee particularly important prisoners. There are ways to go about this, of course; time must be allowed, for them to slowly run out of things to occupy their mind... until the anxiety begins to dribble in at the corner of one's mind. Alternatively-- "Ah, there's our favorite prisoner!" One could come in, in a matter entirely unexpected. The voice should be one she recognizes. It is decidedly cheerful, but it belongs to the man who shoved a sword through her lungs and ultimately ended her life. The owner of the voice? Wears a grin that spreads so wide it squints his only visible eye shut, dressed in the regalia of the High General of Winterheart. King Bradley. And with the look of the man far too kindly to be the leader of Roc's army, he opens up the cell door of the woman he killed, and stepped inside. "You are certainly one of our more quiet prisoners! I hope your cell has been keeping you well, miss?" The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor is nearly dismissed, at first--at least, until Tai'en's awareness catches up with her, and informs her that a) the steps are far too early for the usual patrolling guards, and b) far too confident and swift, rather than the lazy, swinging stride of the soldiers that guard the cell block. Neither are there the usual jeers and calls and bribes that accompany a patrolling guard; instead, silence, almost fearful, or a halfhearted jeer, accompanied by a quiet murmur of whispers following in the walker's wake. Unusual enough, in all, to pull her from her meditative state. She opens her eyes just as Bradley comes in through the door, and looks full upon the face of her killer. A second later, her eyes close again in a cheerful smile, and she lifts a hand in a sketchy half-wave, half-salute. "Tolerably well, thanks for asking! The food is shite, though, just so you know. Ventilation's not the greatest, either, and--I hate to carry gossip, but--my neighbor in the next cell over really stinks." She gives a discreet nod to said occupant of the next cell, who gives her a sullen look and turns his back. Uncoiling to her feet, she stretches briefly and makes a grand gesture toward the bed, the only spot available for sitting on. "Care for a seat?" she asks, for all the world as though receiving a visitor in the comfort of her own home. "I'm afraid I don't have any drinks to offer, though, so you'll have to do without." She makes no move to lunge past him to the opened cell door, nor to attack him. What would be the point? Now is not the time to take any action. The prison cells of the Winterheart militsii have always been dull, drab -- gloomy and disheartening. Just as the standard in most prisons, it is a means to keep the spirits of the prisoners down, in order to make them easier to goad or make them more agreeable. A classic means to an end. But the presence of the General of the Militsii is always an unexpected cheer that fills the place with a strange, almost familial warmth. For those who know how terrifying this man can be, they shudder, cower, or yell angry incoherencies. For others, though, they seem to enjoy the presence of King Bradley of the Militsii. He's a warm and friendly face, despite being the man who is likely putting them to death. Those with no hope often put comfort into the smallest of things. Others, however... Take it with such a cheerful, hopeful smile. The cheerfulness of Middleton's Fire Point Guard is received with a good-natured laugh that rumbles from the General's throat. "Stinks, eh? You'll have to forgive him, he's been here a while. And from what I understand, he's never been the best at personal hygiene!" No hatred or rage is offered to her, just as none are to him. In fact, his expression is still accompanied by the kindly wrinkle of his eyes and a broad, humored smile that suggests for all the world that Bradley is simply happy to see his new guest of honor in his humble prison cell. With the apologetic shake of his head, Bradley declines the woman's invitation for a seat; at least for now. "Old men like me need to stay on their feet as much as possible; it's a work out in and of itself!" There's another boisterous laugh given to this, even as he steps further into the cell, letting his arms cross stiffly behind his back. "I thought I might pay our newest prisoner a visit, now that she has had time to get herself comfortable. And perhaps bring you up to date on current events... if you have the time to spare, Ms. Tai'en of the Middleton Point Guard?" He asks, but he knows. She has all the time in the world, now. Those with no hope put comfort into the smallest of things precisely because they have nothing else, after all. And, whatever his flaws--homicidal maniac, towering egoist, blood-drenched general--Bradley /is/ a pleasant, smiling man, and does make good company, and is a break to the monotony of the prison cell. Thus the bright smile that Tai'en greets him with. "Oh, I can easily believe that!" Tai'en grins good-naturedly even as the discussed prisoner stiffens and moves away, despite the fact that they stand nowhere near him. Perhaps it's because the unnaturally cheery tone of their voice, the lighthearted atmosphere consciously being projected in the midst of this situation where very little is lighthearted.... here, it is bizarrely out of place. Enough to make the nerves of lesser men crawl. Of course, neither of them would have found their respective positions if they were lesser men. And so Tai'en continues to project cheer, laughing along in good-humored merriment at his own jab to himself. "Oh, I'd hardly say that, King! --Can I call you King? You're as fit as a fiddle, from what I've seen!" Another laugh, even as she nods acceptance of his refusal. Her eyes narrow faintly, but she tilts her head, considering. "Ah~~ I should have time now to receive you, and whatever news you bring would be welcome. It does get a trifle dull in here, after all--a book or a newspaper or something would cure the monotony, you know. I don't suppose you happen to have a copy of Jahael Kariddin's 'The Four Codices of Serafala,' do you? I was just beginning that before your city invaded and things became unfortunately too busy for me to spend time reading. But I babble. No, do go on." She waves for him to speak, even as she leans against the bars, folding her arms. It's all rather reminiscent of those old 50's TV shows, if she had any reference. The false cheer, the dreary surroundings.... perhaps not a nuclear family of a father, a mother, two kids, and a dog, but otherwise. It's a competition of cheer. Whether either is a mask or genuine does not matter; here illusions and reality are simply one and the same as time goes on, and one gets used to accepted a cheerful, smiling face as just that: a cheerful, smiling face. They do not care to look past the facade, because when you are in prison, bound to be executed and launched into a bog where there is no one to great you but the unliving... ... Why not accept a smile at face value? She is here, confined. About to die, likely many times until information is forcefully extorted from her about various matters and she is finally killed off, permanantly, and launched into the ocean via the A.U.. Hers will not be a pleasant end. But she is not the first, nor the last, to come here with a smile upon her face. There were more. Even important people like her. A spy Knight from the Hall resides here too. She smiled so cheerfully. Eventually? People's smiles fade. Always though, does Bradley smile. And why shouldn't it be genuine? He has nothing against Tai'en save for that she broke Winterheart law and killed her troops. She is an enemy, but not a hated enemy. Expending the effort on emotions like that is a pointless endeavor, and so... Bradley just smiles. Happily. "You certainly may, Ms. Tai'en! I see no reason for you not to." He waves off her words as nothing; she can call him King. It doesn't really matter, after all. A name is a name is a--"Ah, your mistaken. These old bones of mine will ache something terrible if I let myself slack even a little bit. That's why it's important to always stay alert, don't you agree...?" Ah, but there she goes again. Talking. Squinted eye looks down at her with an arched brow and pursed lips. Reading material...? "You mean they haven't been bringing out any! Well then, we'll fix that right away. But I'm afraid I don't think have that particular book you're looking for. There should be plenty of other things to keep you occupied, though!" News however. News. "You'll be happy to know that we've withdrawn from your city for now." For now being the key terms. Certain things have forced their hands, not simply Middleton's efforts at resistance. "And I'm sure you'll be even happier to know that Thunderbird has been killed! Slain by Roc, in fact." A hand raises, fingers tapping lightly at his chin as his brows furrow. "Though..." Mm. "It is a bit unfortunate, that the end result has cracked the gameboard and damaged all cities. Including Middleton." Just like an old 50's TV show, but with a bit more... gravity. Indeed. Sometimes... it just isn't worth debating the sincerity of a smile. This would be one such occasion. And while she may not be the first, or the last, and rarely, if ever, has she been the first, or the last... she does intend to be the best. Or, perhaps, the first to escape. Though perhaps there had already been one such. In which case, she intends to follow the example. Of course, intentions and reality are generally spaced quite far apart. But such has been her life that, even powerless and locked in a cell, Tai'en still bears the confidence, even the arrogance, of one chosen by the Unconquered Sun. He has, after all, been named such for a good reason, and His children partake of that quality in many respects. Just, perhaps, not all. Or even the most important ones. "Oh, alertness is a good quality in everyone, young and old! I could hardly disagree to that." For a moment, her eyes narrow, and she tenses briefly... before she shifts her weight to the other leg, and remains in her casual lean against the bars. "Ah, no, they haven't~ it's been abject cruelty! No matter how I plead and pester, they simply refuse to give me so much as a gossip rag--which, if nothing else, I could use as toilet paper." But yes. News. The Twilight quiets at the news, brows dipping together briefly as she absorbs the information about Thunderbird. The news of Middleton she is hardly surprised by--with the way things had been looking moments before she died, it seemed likely they would at least withdraw, if perhaps not withdraw their imperialistic claims all together. Thunderbird's death, though... now, that is unexpected. Entirely. "Oh goodness. You die once, the world doesn't even bother to wait for you to get back before things start moving! Really." She shakes her head sadly. "I assume, however, that by saying 'damaged all cities,' none of them were destroyed. Remarkable, that." Desires, and ideals, are never the same thing as the reality of a given situation. One can spout out their beliefs or their boasts, and convince themselves in their arrogance that it is the truth, but there is little reality to back it up. Reality is that Tai'en now finds herself stranded in a prison surrounded by guards and trained, elite military personelle, among them a man who cannot die. Reality is she is in the middle of a desolate city in a fractured land with the chaotic waters to serve as a deterrent for her escape. Reality is... She is sentenced to die a true death. And it is only a matter of time before reality settled into the place of illusion and desire, and the confidence that once drove the child of the 'Unconquered Sun'... will be conquered. Just a matter of time. In the meantime, though -- "Of course you'd agree! Some of my soldiers complain, but they know it's for the best," When he sometimes rushes into their barracks yelling and thwacking some of them with the sheath of his sword. Which is not often a pleasant experience, "But don't you worry, miss; we'll get that reading material to you." His gaze drifts away from her, his smile calm, easy; his posture relaxed and casual. "Everyone's last wishes should be granted, after all." Time does not stop, though; except here, where it remains stagnant. But as a concept, events continue regardless of the incapacities of some. The crash of Thunderbird is tremendous... but even the death of a God is not enough to wake those who are already dead. "Much of the lands have been seperated, and there is now much more ocean than before; it's all rather startling!" Not mentioned, of course, is the fact that Roc has disappeared; that his priest is gone, and that now? Winterheart rests in the Militsii's caring hands. "And you are being held here until time can be arranged for interrogation." It's said as one might discuss over the dinner table, "And your eventual execution." One should always take care in what one says, though, for it is all too easy to find the shoe on the other foot... the foot that happens to be yours, that is. A lesson, of course, that Tai'en has either forgotten over the years or chooses to ignore... if it happens, it happens, naturally. And reality... well, reality has been hers to bend and shape for times beyond a mortal lifetime. Perhaps she is without that, now, but the natural gifts of what she is have not abandoned her. Whether they will avail her against the realities of the situation are another matter. But should she be able to get out from this place? She thinks she can handle whatever else will happen. It's the 'getting out' that'll be tough, of course. Time? She has all the time in the world. Time is frozen, here; they live in the eternal moment, when things grow and breathe and live and love and die and nothing ever moves on. Perhaps even true death might be a relief of that... or an opening of a new vista. She doesn't know what happens with true death. Especially not true death here. At home, oh, she has a fair idea. Besides, her Essence--the spark of Exaltation--would still go on, even if her soul remained behind. Again, one of those things it is perhaps useless to speculate on. And, all things being equal, she'd like to escape with her hide intact. Seeing death might be momentarily interesting, but it would likely become very quickly uninteresting. The assurance is met with a quick clap of her hands together. "Excellent! I'm so very pleased--it should while away the hours until my execution, no?" Bright smile. Internally, she is more than a bit peeved to have missed so momentous an occasion as a duel of gods overhead and the death of one, and the breaking of the Board, and aaah--no doubt she can wrest quite a few good first- hand accounts, but it's still not the same as seeing it herself. Discontent colors her features over that, a discontent that clears as he mentions execution and she looks up once again. "Oh, good to know. I was half-afraid I'd been tossed in here and left to rot, forgotten about until the end of times, or at least the end of the Game." Does it disturb her? Perhaps a bit. But 'eventual' makes it sound so very far off... and besides, she'll know it's coming by the interrogations. She has time yet.