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Zeffer'd wrapped an arm around Aprife in turn, also happy to share a little warmth. For as many times as he had been up the mountain, the cold felt more biting and cruel than it ever had before. He couldn't help but wonder how far up they were; it must have been well hidden, because he'd never heard anything about a prison in Busthind. Aprife's suggestion made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. He would rather leap off the mountain, or throw himself into the pits. Like hell he was going to stay chained up, scraping out raw materials for their b***h-of-a-queen to use to s**t on her own citizens. They could go out with a fight, perhaps. It would be a fitting end, with some shred of dignity.

Sucking in a breath, the blueblood sat quietly and allowed Aprife's words to melt some of his frustration away. All the apologies in the world wouldn't change what had happened, and in the end, he was glad not to be alone, as selfish as that sentiment was. As Aprife clung more tightly, so did he, listening to the reassuring words and latching onto them tightly. If Aprife could still make such statements in the face of their situation, he wasn't about to give into the hopelessness that was looming overhead. He was still too angry to give up anyway, and he never would, as long as there was a flicker of fight left in him. Perhaps they could find some sort of out, eventually, if they didn't end up being tortured to death.

As Aprife's lips brushed against him, Zeffer turned his head to catch the yellowblood's mouth in a kiss, sighing with vague, exhausted content. It certainly wasn't the first they'd ever shared, and as Aprife soothed his worries, he found that he couldn't keep his affections hidden. Who knew when they would ever get the chance to do so again, anyway. He deepened it brazenly after a moment, having nothing left to lose, no one else in the world to care for besides the yellowblood. Anyone else in their cell went forgotten and ignored, and the blueblood's eyes slid shut after a moment. He would have been glad to carry on, but the approaching sound of jangling chains made him pause, and he broke the kiss to glance over anxiously, teeth bared.

What he'd thought to be a guard coming only ended up being a procession of more captured trolls. Zeffer stared coldly as they passed by, thinking that he recognized one or two or them; they had all been fighting for the same cause, after all. Were they the ones who always played the hooded escorts? Once they'd shuffled past, he let go of the breath he'd been holding, and looked back to Aprife with a tiny, lopsided grin. "You're right. No use cryin' over it now, I guess. We'll figure something out...or go down fighting." His voice was low, and his lip curled as he turned to look out through the cell door again, his eyes shining with his own aggressive thoughts.

Despite the setting, and despite all they'd been through, there was a very certain relief in his eyes when Zeffer turned to him. Nothing really needed to be said, endearment was written on his tired face and expressed when their lips met in that kiss. It may very well have been their last time together like this; they could be kept alive but separated, or they could be worked and then killed, quite likely ended in one of those showy displays of power and authority Aprife was sure the queen loved so much. Either way, he let those thoughts slip from his mind, their room quickly occupied by this momentary happiness the two of them had found. Unmistakably pleased, he tilted into the deepened kiss, and everything and everyone but the blueblood was given no attention at all. Zeffer had always been straightforward, and that was more than okay with Aprife.

It was unfortunate when it ended, all too soon, not unlike their freedom. Though Zeffer was the first to pull away, Aprife had heard the obvious approach, as well, and his eyes were glued ahead in an instant. What they were witness to was disheartening at best, a line of adults, shackled as they were and led past to who knows where. Almost no one had escaped, it seemed, not even those with age and strength. Would they be saddled with a similar fate as the group here in their cell, or were they off to places unknown? The fact that only one of them would even look this way made Aprife particularly unsure.

When the procession had passed, everything went quiet, but there was an echo ringing in the yellowblood's ears of the tune they'd been humming. Even if there was no direct hope, there was always determination, and he was definitely determined to find an end to this ordeal that didn't leave them weeping on the floor. It was reassuring to hear that Zeffer held a similar conviction.

"When they move us again, we have to look for an out. Anything, any broken link in their defenses." Whether there would be one, they were left to see. "If we keep our eyes open, surely there'll be something."

The thin troll takes down your words as you speak, syllable for syllable. "Mmm." Is the amount of a reply you get back until she finishes writing. Then, pushing up her glasses, she leafs through the papers. "You have had no outstanding arrests or public disturbance indictments until now -- so that should make things easier. We are pushing for your case to be brought forward immediately rather than with the rest of of the arrests. You will also not be formally processed as a condemned criminal until the verdict is rendered, should it fall against you." Shuffling her stack of papers again, she taps them smartly against the desk, as though shuffling a pack of cards. "I will strive for that not to be the case. In any way, I will go begin the legal proceedings. If you would like to make another statement during the time please let the guard drone at the door know and he will summon me."

Please wait! Or if you have anything you would like to add to your previous statement -- quote the mule.



As Vremea was the troll who initiated the talks, she is now in charge of leading a party to free the rebel trolls! She can pick and choose her team of friends and allies and now begin to post in this thread. The teens who are currently being held in the main cells (Everyone apart from Vulpin and Forera) need to be broken out. You and the users who's trolls are coming along can decide how they are going to do this, what the obstacles are, and how you get around them. Lusii are not being freed - only the teens & children. Trolls are considered freed when either their door is opened or they are given another way to escape. When that happens, please quote the mule again! Any questions can be directed to ami. Tentative cut off date: 18th.

Roleplay here can be wrapped up till the end of the month. You will not gain more meta prizes for anything posted after today's date.

A sharp burst of static pierced her ears. Cell Block on Cleared. Milieu felt her blood pusher tighten as she secured the hood over her head and mouth. It was time to go. Time to be something a little bolder than the shy girl who hid behind a whiteboard.

Milieu pushed open the door that led to the first row of cell blocks and left it wide open. Despite having gotten the all clear, she checked both ways frantically. It was all clear. Sighing, she nodded in relief and rubbed her face. The tealblood fumbled with one of her pockets and pulled out a thin black box with a few letters etched on top in silver. A lock picking set. This was the first time she was going to pick a lock, and her hands were already shaking. It's going to be fine. I've got this. We're going to be good. We're going to be good.

She moved to the first Cell and inserted the picks, wiggling them as best she could. Her bloodpusher felt like it was going to bust from the moobeast hide suit any second. Trolls from the inside had been startled awake with Odette's swift beatdown and watched with hungry, expectant eyes. One rushed forward and grabbed her shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Hurry! Hurry up! Come on faster damn it!" A bead of sweat trickled down her head. More were gathering, their whispered voices harsh and pressing. POP! Finally! Milieu hastily threw the lock to the side, stood, and ripped open the door. An outpouring of teens rushed like a new wound letting blood. Milieu pointed in one direction - towards the opened door. The other girls would help them leave, and Vremea was there to aid in healing.

Taking her picks, she moved to the next door and felt a new surge of anxiety - Trolls she vaguely recognized and some she KNEW for sure. Lunear! Milieu tried not to become overly nervous. It was difficult enough popping the lock with such limited experience. Being sick to her stomach was just out of the cards. After a few tense moments of struggle (which likely felt a million times longer to Milieu), the lock fell off. Again she stood and flung open the door for those inside, pointing down the hallway.

It was going well so far. Putting away the tools, she moved in and helped those who were hurt to stand and shuffle out of the cell. When she can to Lunear, Milieu removed the mask and smiled at him briefly before putting it back on. His wrist looked as if it were damaged. Had he been harmed? Or was it something else?

As fitful as the rest should have been, as it was really, Aprife didn't stir at the same noises Zeffer did. No, he went right on sleeping, head cushioned, though not completely, against the unforgiving stone by his thick hair. It was only when he heard the sharp intake of breath and the equally punctuated wake up call that he returned to the land of the living, realizing his companion's warmth had moved away somewhat. It wasn't the best way to wake up, but what method could even be considered on the verge of 'good' while trapped in a frigid jail cell?

Forcing himself up, the sleep all but fell away when it became apparent something about their situation was changing, and fast. The troll who had taken out the guards was long gone, so it was more than a little surprising when he realized someone was picking the lock without even an ounce of resistance, but hell, there was no reason not to go with it at this point. If this raid was well-organized, which he hoped beyond hope it was, they'd probably have a better chance than if they had tried to escape whenever they were next moved.

Adrenaline was pumping anew and he dared to believe they would be okay, that they'd truly escape whatever awful hand fate had dealt. He was off the floor in seconds, catching up to Zeffer and offering him the most reassuring, tiny smile he could manage in return for the look he'd been given. There were too many swells of emotion all over again, and he reached out for the blueblood's hand before he could think twice, snatching it up in his own to give it a quick squeeze.

"Looks that way," he muttered, peering around the door to see a line of trolls beginning to make their way in the direction the rescuer had signaled. "We should get moving, don't wanna stand around long." He hissed a quick word of thanks to the lock picker as they passed.

When Athene was younger, if she had been told that a few sweeps down the road she would be helping trolls escape the punishment pits, she would have laughed in their face. She had already established her dislike of the spectrum at a young age, her blasé attitude firmly in place. But to do this? That was asking to get culled, a stupid move that would probably end in failure. Yet here she was, waiting for her time to go before gently moving away from Vremea, towards the cages where the kids were.

Her task was simple and she was dressed for the job, everything in place. She'd even replaced her heels with boots, her loss of height mourned but she would rather get out alive than appear a little taller. The set of lockpicks dug into her hands, clenched so tightly as she crept down the hallway as fast as she could. It was clear as far as she could tell, but it was better to be cautious than to get caught by one that had been missed. She had tried to hide it, and hoped she had been successful, but she was nervous. This plan had, had to work. For the trolls trapped here. For her team.

When she reached she flicked the box open, taking out the picks and nearly dropping them in sheer nervousness. She'd practiced it, tried it a thousand times and more to make sure it would go right, but it still was nerve wracking standing here in person. The kids had already gotten curious towards her actions, moving towards the door, and she worked as quickly as she could. Her mind drifted towards Vremea and Odette, whom counted on her to get this right and she was determined to make sure it would. She even thought of Milieu, of Lunear, trolls that she wasn't entirely sure about for herself but whom needed her too. She would do it for them too.

The lock popped open and she pulled the door open, the kids rushing out. She pointed them towards the exit and then moved past them, on to the next cell. This lock dropped easier and the same thing occurred, everyone moving past and intent on leaving. She slipped the tools back in her box, tugged on her mask to make sure it was secure, and then moved in to help the kids that were struggling. It was all she could do at this point, the rest was up to everyone else.

He had given up to an extent. If there was a trial, it would be for the sake of entertainment. He might have been of higher caste, but he'd been caught with the 'scum', low bloods, running alongside them, as if he was one of their own. To a highblood, it was an insult in itself to associate so brazenly, so familiar with those beneath them. It was an insult to all he stood for, all his blood represented, to pass it over to dare to defy and stand along, among, rebels. The empire itself would not allow such blatant defiance, and even if it sparred him, it had scarred him, and it would mark him to others of his rank, his hue-

Lunear would be killed, it was just a matter of when now, and who would bear witness to his death. A crowd of loyally blind, eager, blood-lusty followers of the petulant royal, or to whatever troll would have the pleasure of catching him unawares.

He kept his silence, eye flickering to the doors when noises filtered in, his marked hand petting the yet named gerbil he'd gathered on his travel in the tunnels, hoping that if the mocking trial they were no doubt preparing went in his favor, where his life would be spared if just for later sport, he'd have time to see Marian and Gabiel given their little freedom as to now have to burrow through their cage in his hive when he'd simply not return. He'd really feel quite awful leaving them to starve while he went and died.

Batbro would be so upset but he'd get along- all lusus eventually did.

He'd begun to resign himself to his fate.
But of course, right when he began to accept it, fate had gone and chosen a little different of a path for him to take. It let him think maybe they hadn't been left to die, martyrs and pawns in a war they ought to have a hand in crafting the game they played. He didn't bother to look at the would be heros, the rescue, he didn't want to give himself false hope as guards would bear down upon them, as hope would be crushed before their eyes, damning them all. He wanted to believe but a part of him just stared at his branded wrist, knowing that escape was over- they were marked and now would be forever targets in hunt to crush opposition, a regime of oppression.

The sounds of growing anticipation, hushed tones and whispers for, of, freedom. They were insistent, building, like a growing song of hope he wanted to believe in, even as he looked down at his wrists. One scarred by his own choice, his own foolish rebellion and half attempt to have a sense of control over this fate. The other branded, reminding him of what he'd done, and what it would forever mean. The taste of his own blood lingered in his mouth, rich and neither bitter nor sweet. A reminder that he still lived, his pump gusher still letting his blue blood flow trough him for now.

A clatter and a rush of feet, cries of joy and thanks as he found them leaving, as they found short freedom from the physical cages that had bound them, even knowing the building itself would be its own cage- He hardly had the will, the strength to want to move, to hope they could make it to see starlight again. To see the two moons.

Yet somehow she found him, and when he lifted his gaze to see her remove her mask. He felt something tighten in his throat. Words he wanted to say. Thank you. To express his joy to see her again, to know she was alive and well. That he was touched by her simple display of kindness, though it was wasted on him. She wouldn't speak- he knew she'd remain silent, yet he needed it. His own thoughts a swirling negative mass of denials he needed not words of comfort. He just-needed.

Reaching out was a heavy thing. Yet when he found her, he pulled her down to him letting himself smile carelessly, enjoying the feeling. Whatever it was. He wanted to say thank you- to say something, yet he couldn't. He didn't know what he felt. He didn't know what would be right to tell her. To share with her and expose of himself.

So Lunear simply let himself smile just that fraction, let himself touch his forehead to her own. He let himself slip his own mask on, let himself be the Lune she knew, the one who was confident and arrogant and sure of himself, even as he felt his will and pride crack as he moved to get up, to walk to an unspoken promise of freedom.
"You're by far a most terrible rescue. Making a gentleman such as myself wait this long for escort." His jibe was matched with that small smile. Walking on slightly unsteady legs, the blood he'd lost previously catching him in his slightly off kilter gait.

"I nearly though you wouldn't arrive, and I'd have to suffer the company of such inelegant confines for who knew how long."