Work Text:
27th of Last Seed, 3e 433
This one wakes slowly. She is not sure where she is. A cell? Surely J’Dara can not have been arrested. This one does not understand why she is here. J’Dara thinks the ribcage in the corner is a particularly bad omen for her.
This one remembers the offering she gave to the dark Daedra Lord Sanguine, oh yes. J’Dara had to drink some of the ale too, no? J’Dara remembers meeting the Breton who shared it with her. That one thought he could drink J’Dara under the table. No Khajiit would fail at such a task.
Hmmm. Perhaps the Breton put something in this one’s drink, yes? The light hurts her eyes. J’Dara’s head aches. She will find this Sam Guevenne and take the staff the Breton promised; maybe some limbs too, oh yes. That one would pay.
The knife-ear across the way flaps his mouth at this one. She thinks he is a great ugly brute.
J’Dara just needs to get out of here. She will. This one is good at locks.
But, she hears someone coming. Perhaps, they are coming to release J’Dara.