A Brynn drabble
The morning after Brynn's capture. Not quite finished.
Brynn awoke with one of the most pounding headaches in her history of drinking, and she was certain this one hadn’t originated from an endless line of shots of Vodka.
She groaned as she attempted to close her eyes off to the rest of the world to try and block the dizziness; but the senseless buzzing didn’t fade, nor did the mind-splitting sensation of someone repeatedly whacking her across the head with a baseball bat. Her current position didn’t help her condition either; aches were forming all over her body now that she had decided to regain consciousness, and she was willing to bet they weren’t going to fade with two measly Tylenol tablets. She was left to lean against one of the white plaster walls that made her emprisonment, sitting upright, hands tucked behind her. Brynn contemplated lying down on her side for the fatigue, but she knew she’d only end up vommitting the second the room decided to spin in protest to her new position. Another wave of nausea coupled with the monstrous pound of her headache made her sway, and moved her hand to soothe a temple.
But she found that she couldn’t.
Brynn’s eyes snapped open in realization despite having her head implode at the sudden action. The bastards had roped her hands together.
The throbbing sensation was suddenly replaced by a much, much more prominent feeling of anger and frustration. It wasn't enough that they had fully seeped the magick out of her like a bag of green fucking tea, but they were treating her as if she were some animal brought right out of obedience school. Brynn tried pulling at the ropes forcefully to break their bind, but the rite had taken it's toll on her and her strength would not come back for at least a few hours. Brynn cursed, refusing to flinch at the sharp sting that flashed from her bottom lip. Goddamit. She should've picked a better fight the night before, or at least made a hole one of those Daybreaker goodie-two-shoes to make this hell more worthwhile, but the number of witches they had sicked on her had gotten Brynn on her knees before anyone could say 'down girl'. She wished her lust for blood and gore was at least a third as effective as it was for vampires, then she would've taken down at least three more Daybreakers before the spell had taken into effect.
But now she was stuck. In this god-awful tacky room, no less. All Brynn saw from a ten-foot radius was white, excluding the 14x10 foot window that took up most of the wall in front of her and the door standing beside it, but even that was blackened so she couldn't see anything that transpired behind it. She couldn't even be sure if there weren't people standing right outside, watching her from the outside in, debating whether they should just cut her head off or send her on her merry way back to the Lord who would just cut her head off himself. However, she knew that whatever the outcome, they wouldn't do anything to her without first putting her through another round of 20 questions. Brynn snorted. Let them think that she was vulnerable to answer now that they had drained her of her powers for a few days; she'd only put it off until her magick was restored and burn this mother-effing popsicle stand to the ground.
Brynn tried lifting herself off the ground, her legs forcing her into a wobbly standing position before her knees buckled underneath her and sent her crashing to the ground once more. Two bursts of flame erupted in her knees and Brynn bit her lip.
Oh, she was definitely making a hole in one of those bastards. A nice, big fist-sized one, right at the heart.
To be continued~
Brynn awoke with one of the most pounding headaches in her history of drinking, and she was certain this one hadn’t originated from an endless line of shots of Vodka.
She groaned as she attempted to close her eyes off to the rest of the world to try and block the dizziness; but the senseless buzzing didn’t fade, nor did the mind-splitting sensation of someone repeatedly whacking her across the head with a baseball bat. Her current position didn’t help her condition either; aches were forming all over her body now that she had decided to regain consciousness, and she was willing to bet they weren’t going to fade with two measly Tylenol tablets. She was left to lean against one of the white plaster walls that made her emprisonment, sitting upright, hands tucked behind her. Brynn contemplated lying down on her side for the fatigue, but she knew she’d only end up vommitting the second the room decided to spin in protest to her new position. Another wave of nausea coupled with the monstrous pound of her headache made her sway, and moved her hand to soothe a temple.
But she found that she couldn’t.
Brynn’s eyes snapped open in realization despite having her head implode at the sudden action. The bastards had roped her hands together.
The throbbing sensation was suddenly replaced by a much, much more prominent feeling of anger and frustration. It wasn't enough that they had fully seeped the magick out of her like a bag of green fucking tea, but they were treating her as if she were some animal brought right out of obedience school. Brynn tried pulling at the ropes forcefully to break their bind, but the rite had taken it's toll on her and her strength would not come back for at least a few hours. Brynn cursed, refusing to flinch at the sharp sting that flashed from her bottom lip. Goddamit. She should've picked a better fight the night before, or at least made a hole one of those Daybreaker goodie-two-shoes to make this hell more worthwhile, but the number of witches they had sicked on her had gotten Brynn on her knees before anyone could say 'down girl'. She wished her lust for blood and gore was at least a third as effective as it was for vampires, then she would've taken down at least three more Daybreakers before the spell had taken into effect.
But now she was stuck. In this god-awful tacky room, no less. All Brynn saw from a ten-foot radius was white, excluding the 14x10 foot window that took up most of the wall in front of her and the door standing beside it, but even that was blackened so she couldn't see anything that transpired behind it. She couldn't even be sure if there weren't people standing right outside, watching her from the outside in, debating whether they should just cut her head off or send her on her merry way back to the Lord who would just cut her head off himself. However, she knew that whatever the outcome, they wouldn't do anything to her without first putting her through another round of 20 questions. Brynn snorted. Let them think that she was vulnerable to answer now that they had drained her of her powers for a few days; she'd only put it off until her magick was restored and burn this mother-effing popsicle stand to the ground.
Brynn tried lifting herself off the ground, her legs forcing her into a wobbly standing position before her knees buckled underneath her and sent her crashing to the ground once more. Two bursts of flame erupted in her knees and Brynn bit her lip.
Oh, she was definitely making a hole in one of those bastards. A nice, big fist-sized one, right at the heart.
To be continued~