Welcome to Gaia! ::

The plastic bag dandled from Quartz's fingers, laden heavy with its appointed burden. The door to the first cell -- they were calling them cells -- swung open, and he stepped inside, gold boots making footfalls in the dark: heavy with the weight of the muscle they carried, but softened by the dust still on the floor.

This was, in truth, a storage room. Here was where, once upon a time, some cheap carnival had stored its stage props and set pieces. And in the center of this room, providing her own glow -- strapped and chained to the worn old turntable that knife-throwers used for their targets -- was one of the captives they'd brought in.

A captain stood off to the side, one of many strangers that Quartz didn't know. He didn't bother trying to send the woman away; she outranked him, and he had no illusions that privacy meant keeping any secrets from his General even if she did. Schörl knew everything, somehow, even if she was only reading it in some tiny tic of his face. What did it matter?

He set down his plastic bag and pulled out one of the water bottles that had been inside it. Hello, Aquafina, my old friend.

"I don't have any questions," he said dully. "I brought water for you."

Well, here was a happy camper!

Her angry shouting would've made him feel a satisfying sort of camaraderie once. Now, it was like a stone being dropped down a well -- a long, silent fall, well forgotten before it ever hit bottom and made any splash in his psyche. She would shout loudly and break hard, when the time came. When Schörl came for her. He pitied this one.

Quartz gave her a look that was mostly enh mixed with a side of well, whatever. "The dreaded Aquafina, yes," he agreed mildly. "I'll open it in front of you and take the first sip, if you want."

He approached, intending to do just that. "Do you want me to spin you sideways a little? It might seem counterintuitive, comfort-wise, but it'll give these muscle groups a break and let the other ones take over for a little while."

He dealt with the wheel first, grabbing it by one of the spokes and slowly rotating it till she was tipped slightly to the other direction, rebalancing her weight a little to force her muscles to bear a new balance. Quartz let go and stepped back -- then held up the bottle and cracked it fresh, so she could see the seal on the cap break. The first gulp went down cool -- he gargled it audibly for her benefit, then swallowed and showed her his tongue. The rest, he held the bottle to her mouth to help her drink.

"No questions," he said. "I couldn't really care less what they're after in this. I follow orders to avoid pain and punishment -- nothing else is important. I'm what you'd call a conscript."

Quartz handled her carefully, slow with the water, trying to get some of the sweat-damp hair out of her face to where it would stay tucked back.

"She's going to hurt you, you know," he said softly.

"The General," he said, studying her face. "She's good at getting what she wants." He took the water away when she'd finished the bottle. "If you can't give her what she wants, try to at least be clever. She likes it when you're clever."

Quartz dusted off his hands. "Stubborn silence alone won't win you the day. Don't bother. She considers it an opening bid."

Quartz quirked an eyebrow in vague amusement. "No," he agreed wryly, "I don't suppose you do."

He halted by the door, before opening it. "She'll honor what she offers," he advised as a final word. "But she doesn't take requests. Good luck to you."