It was a decent night's sleep, at least, a bit of a break. He'd finished his dinner, tried to relax, even relished some time reading until he grew too tired. For a few hours, he didn't feel nearly so much like a prisoner.
Waver had known it wouldn't last. But he hadn't expected what followed.
He was still blinking away sleep when the guards dragged him from the room, barely waiting for him to put his shoes and shirt back on. It happened so quickly. Disoriented with sleep and shock, Waver staggered along with the long strides of the guards, craning his neck to look over his shoulder at Devyn with wide, terrified eyes as the third guard blocked her from coming. They'd never done that before.
Understand what it looks like, Waver. You, your magic unbound, potentially attacking him - and me, hurting him to keep you safe.
This time, Waver had the sense not to try to fight or argue, but he panicked. They left Devyn behind, and he didn't know if she was being taken somewhere else; he didn't have much time to wonder or care. With the frightful experience from yesterday still fresh in his mind, Waver did his best to cooperate and try to prove he wasn't really trying to attack, that he wasn't going to be a threat-- and still they cuffed him, despite what he'd heard Devyn saying last night. Still, the cuffs were the same spelled material that curled around his magical ability like a clamp, like the teeth of a trap closing.
He didn't understand the cord. Or the collar. Waver's first instinct the moment it closed around his neck was to struggle and pull, and his hands twitched, pulse thrumming frantically in his throat as he fought the urge down desperately.
Then, the guards left him like that, bound and locked in, left him alone with his own drumming heartbeat and shallow, frightened gasps filling the ensuing silence. It was a while before he dared to even move, tugging gingerly against the roughness of the cuffs to test how far to cord would go, only to find how restricted his movement really was.
All he could do was wait. Wait, and try not to let the fear provoke him into struggling more. Waver pressed his palms flat on the table to try to ground himself, head dipping slightly forward with the tug of it, and forced himself to breathe.
no subject
Waver had known it wouldn't last. But he hadn't expected what followed.
He was still blinking away sleep when the guards dragged him from the room, barely waiting for him to put his shoes and shirt back on. It happened so quickly. Disoriented with sleep and shock, Waver staggered along with the long strides of the guards, craning his neck to look over his shoulder at Devyn with wide, terrified eyes as the third guard blocked her from coming. They'd never done that before.
Understand what it looks like, Waver. You, your magic unbound, potentially attacking him - and me, hurting him to keep you safe.
This time, Waver had the sense not to try to fight or argue, but he panicked. They left Devyn behind, and he didn't know if she was being taken somewhere else; he didn't have much time to wonder or care. With the frightful experience from yesterday still fresh in his mind, Waver did his best to cooperate and try to prove he wasn't really trying to attack, that he wasn't going to be a threat-- and still they cuffed him, despite what he'd heard Devyn saying last night. Still, the cuffs were the same spelled material that curled around his magical ability like a clamp, like the teeth of a trap closing.
He didn't understand the cord. Or the collar. Waver's first instinct the moment it closed around his neck was to struggle and pull, and his hands twitched, pulse thrumming frantically in his throat as he fought the urge down desperately.
Then, the guards left him like that, bound and locked in, left him alone with his own drumming heartbeat and shallow, frightened gasps filling the ensuing silence. It was a while before he dared to even move, tugging gingerly against the roughness of the cuffs to test how far to cord would go, only to find how restricted his movement really was.
All he could do was wait. Wait, and try not to let the fear provoke him into struggling more. Waver pressed his palms flat on the table to try to ground himself, head dipping slightly forward with the tug of it, and forced himself to breathe.