For his part, Waver behaved. He did as he was told, answered the questions as well as he could, and tried to hold onto the hope that being a model prisoner now would help him gain more freedom later.
It wasn't easy. Working with his captors, with his family's killers, was an emotional and mental block he kept needing to push himself past every single time, tamping down his pride and better sense, clinging to necessity and nothing more lofty than that. He hadn't loved his father, but -- despite the fact Kayneth had had no loyalty to him and no affection -- Waver still felt obligated. He still felt kinship, even grudgingly, and ownership of his own family name if nothing else. And so, the knowledge that he was helping these people who wanted to destroy or own their family magic weighed on him, a heavy, awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he outlined maps and wrote out notes for his captors to reference, detailing the secrets of his home.
Traitor, came the voice in his head, over and over, and woke him through the night.
He was tired. Even though Waver had always been the sort to prefer alone time with a book than with a person, the loneliness of isolation made him feel numb and unreal after a few days, made worse by the fact he could never see outside, never see the sun or a clock or any indication of what time it was or what day. Disoriented and depressed, he slept most of the time he wasn't being questioned, too drained to do much else after the sessions. No matter how much he slept, he felt exhausted and weak, even when they gave him more food. He'd never considered how exhausting it would be having nothing to do. Nothing but to think, and be afraid.
Waver had no idea how long it was before they finally let him bathe. It was a small mercy, and one he'd been growing desperate for, but he hadn't expected the cuffs to be removed. That was the real relief. As soon as the magic-disrupting metal was pulled far enough away from his skin, it was like another sense had opened up again, like seeing after being half-blind, feeling returned to a numbed limb.
Immediately, his instinct was to test it. Waver tried to reach for his unlocked magic, not to cast anything but just for the familiarity of it. He meant to invoke just enough of the intent to cast without actually doing anything-- and realized almost at once that it wasn't going to be enough, even if he'd wanted it to be. He felt starved suddenly, now that he was able to feel it, weak. The constant dreariness and exhaustion made even more sense.
Waver stared up at the person who'd taken off the cuffs, rubbing his strangely bare wrists, where a ring of pink skin was a constant irritation these days.
"I can't keep wearing those," he blurted, a faint edge of panic to his voice.
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It wasn't easy. Working with his captors, with his family's killers, was an emotional and mental block he kept needing to push himself past every single time, tamping down his pride and better sense, clinging to necessity and nothing more lofty than that. He hadn't loved his father, but -- despite the fact Kayneth had had no loyalty to him and no affection -- Waver still felt obligated. He still felt kinship, even grudgingly, and ownership of his own family name if nothing else. And so, the knowledge that he was helping these people who wanted to destroy or own their family magic weighed on him, a heavy, awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he outlined maps and wrote out notes for his captors to reference, detailing the secrets of his home.
Traitor, came the voice in his head, over and over, and woke him through the night.
He was tired. Even though Waver had always been the sort to prefer alone time with a book than with a person, the loneliness of isolation made him feel numb and unreal after a few days, made worse by the fact he could never see outside, never see the sun or a clock or any indication of what time it was or what day. Disoriented and depressed, he slept most of the time he wasn't being questioned, too drained to do much else after the sessions. No matter how much he slept, he felt exhausted and weak, even when they gave him more food. He'd never considered how exhausting it would be having nothing to do. Nothing but to think, and be afraid.
Waver had no idea how long it was before they finally let him bathe. It was a small mercy, and one he'd been growing desperate for, but he hadn't expected the cuffs to be removed. That was the real relief. As soon as the magic-disrupting metal was pulled far enough away from his skin, it was like another sense had opened up again, like seeing after being half-blind, feeling returned to a numbed limb.
Immediately, his instinct was to test it. Waver tried to reach for his unlocked magic, not to cast anything but just for the familiarity of it. He meant to invoke just enough of the intent to cast without actually doing anything-- and realized almost at once that it wasn't going to be enough, even if he'd wanted it to be. He felt starved suddenly, now that he was able to feel it, weak. The constant dreariness and exhaustion made even more sense.
Waver stared up at the person who'd taken off the cuffs, rubbing his strangely bare wrists, where a ring of pink skin was a constant irritation these days.
"I can't keep wearing those," he blurted, a faint edge of panic to his voice.