Always Luna

warning

noun ~ a statement or event that indicates a possible or impending danger or problem

TW: vomiting/panic

I was conflicted.

Stood at a crossroads with every instinct at a loss on what to do. Things felt weirdly fuzzy, a strange haze I couldn't shake. But it didn't feel wrong, yet it didn't feel right to follow the sound. The strange blockage on the staircase only allowed me through, so things didn't really look like they were in my favour.

Despite that, I found my hand wrapping around the edge of the door and pulling it wider so I could fit through. I swallowed harshly as I found myself in a dully lit room, not a whisper nor movement passed my senses.

"Hello?" I called, searching the dark abyss.

Celimene ruffled her fur, on high alert for anything that may be hiding.

There was nothing but a hallway.

With a determination, possibly stupidly mis-placed, my hands slid from the wood of the door and I took a further step. My fingers trailed along the cool cement as I wandered my way through the dark hall. Eventually, I came to another door, and after a moment of deliberation, I pried that one open too.

The moment I stepped through the threshold and down four steps, everything hit me at once. The stench of blood and death, of defecation and sorrow, it was thick in the air, secreting from the very walls. My nose crinkled with disgust, my hand raising to try to shield some of the scent with my coat sleeve. There was a single pane window at the end of the hall, and much like the one upstairs, it showed little to no light.

With my eyes fully adjusted, I looked around at the six cells that littered this dead end. They all appeared unoccupied, but when something lured me to the middle one on my right. My fingers touched the cool bars, a sharp shock running through me as the silver burnt my skin. My hand came away bloody, and I frowned, raising it to scent.

The scent of my twin's blood caused my stomach to churn, and I quickly wiped my hand on my coat. Staring down at the blood splattered floor, I fought down the nausea. Just how badly had they hurt him?

There was a sudden shift in the air, one that had the hairs on the back of my neck to raise. Someone was watching me, I was sure of it. I swallowed down the never-ending nausea and straightened my spine. It was behind me, and whoever it was did not have a good aura.

"Well, if it isn't the little Lycan."

I froze, my breath hitching at the familiar male voice. To see if he was standing behind me, I had to turn and face him. I thought he was long gone, locked up, beaten to death and done for...

Turning around slowly, I drew my eyes to the end cell. There was a deep chuckle and when I blinked, a shadow moved. My hands shook, but I fought to keep them at bay, clenching them tightly at my sides. I was ready to run or punch him, whichever came first. I would not let him touch me.

"Little Lycan..." He cooed. "You are a pretty sight for sore eyes."

The shadowy figure stepped into the dull light, and I staggered back when his devilish grin fell into place.

"D-Donovan." I whispered. "H-how are you..."

His grin flattened into a scowl. "You do not call me by my name."

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. "How did you escape?"

Donovan cocked his head, studying me. "You have grown rather exceptionally, my dear."