"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
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February 23rd, 1947
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
A sharp pang of pain shot through Cerys's head as she slowly gained consciousness. Had Tom left the tap open unknowingly? Tom. Her heart dropped. Tom. Visions of the events of the previous night flashed across her mind. She tried to open her eyes, though it proved more difficult than have thought, her eyelids heavy. After her first few attempts, she blinked her eyes open, only to be met with a blurry sight of her surroundings. It looked grey, a dreary grey.
Her breathing picked up as she rubbed her eyes vigorously. What had happened to Tom? Was he alright? Once she regained her vision, her gaze darted around the space. The first thing her eyes landed on, to her relief, was Tom, unconscious and slumped against the wall. Cerys went to rush to her feet without a thought, though she halted just as she stood, hit by a dizzy spell. Black dotted her vision and she grasped onto the wall on her right. It didn't take long, fortunately, for her to gain her balance and continue her little journey to Tom.
Kneeling beside him, she brushed his hair from his face. "Tom," she whispered. It felt as though she hadn't spoken in years, her throat dry and in desperate need of water. No response. "Tom." He had taken a harsh blow at that last spell, it was no wonder why he had a busted lip and a gash to the side of his forehead. That seemed to be the least of her worries though. She had no idea what type of spell had been used on him and what effects it had or could have on him.
She let out a shaky breath as she raised her eyes. Cobble walls and prison cells enclosed them. They were in a dungeon of sorts, she had registered that much. It didn't take long for her to sense the anti-magic spell cast on the cell. It pressed against her shoulders and chest, daring her to try something- anything- and see the consequences. It was suffocating, and she was certain that was the point in addition to suppressing their magic.
On the other side of the bars was a small area, no larger than the cell, that lead to a rotten wood door. Cerys shivered when she saw something, most probably a spider, slip in and out of its cracks. Her bottom lip quivered as a chill ran up her spine. She felt more than unsafe, and Tom's lack of consciousness did nothing to help. "Tom, please," she whispered once more, looking back down at his face. How had things gotten to this? What was going to happen to them? What did Grindelwald want from them?
Heat flushed over her face as she gazed around the room, her throat tightening painfully. Shallow breaths left her lips as her figure began to shake, the dreadful warmth she felt having left in an instant. She looked back down at Tom and took his face in her hands, anxiety gnawing at her chest. Please wake up, she thought. "Tom, please wake up." What had they gotten themselves into?
