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07.25.2127 - A Child's Goodbye

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The helm conveyed no emotion.

The Greatsword swung through the air at a speed that defied reality, it smashed into the chains that held the manacles about Sasha's wrists. The rungs of steel shattered, showering down over the woman and her young daughter. Shannon caught her mother and lowered her quickly to the floor.

Her arms finally freed from the frozen torture above her head, Sasha cried out in relief as her body laid to rest.

Judge Criss retreated to the door a few steps away. He turned and offered “Five more turns Shannon,” and then took a step out, closing the door behind him.

OOC: I do believe the manacles and chains are around Sasha’s (Mother) wrists not Natasha’s (Lawyer), yes? Similar names, easy mix up, no worries.

Shannon scrambled to help prop her weakened mother up against the wall. The thought of exactly what the judge was about briefly shot through her mind like a burning spear. Was this a show of mercy for the two of them? Was Judge Criss secretively rebelling against the system? Was he trying to enable a rebellion? Was he also a parent showing the same empathy he would want if the placement was exchanged? None of that mattered Shannon thought. She was given an opportunity that should not be squandered on thoughts for another day.

After settling her mother on the wall, Shannon placed her hands on both sides of her head and looked in her eyes. “Mom, you’ll be okay.” Shannon assured her. “I’ll write to you and Dad all the time so you’ll never be without me.”

There was something else Shannon wanted to reassure her mother of. Moving close to her ear she whispered, “I won’t rest against them. Every day I’ll fight them, every day I’ll work to bring down their walls. Soon, our gifts will not be feared.”

Pulling back some Shannon spoke in a regular voice, “Promise you’ll fight against the misery of the prison mine, Mom. I won’t give up and neither can you, okay? You can’t let them beat and grind you down…ever.”

(OOC: Thanks! Edited her name.)

Sasha lay on the floor, grimacing as she flexed her hands open and closed. She had nodded while Shannon had spoken and a smile crossed her lips. But when asked to defy her future captors she looked up at her daughter with a new spark in her eyes.

Her father answered for his wife, “we shall Shannon. We already know how we are going to fight from the inside.”

Shannon turned to him, he continued. “This is the part in our goodbye that I am supposed to tell you, keep your nose clean kiddo, don’t worry about us…”

Shannon smiled, sensing the words her father was about to utter. Her father had always shared his rebellious passion with his daughter, she was always afforded the government an equal share of the hate.

“Mate that my daughter. You give them hell.” he whispered harshly.

Shannon’s internal, searing torch of fury flared to life upon hearing her father’s promotion. It seemed strange to her when she realized that it was not just fury but also inspiration framed with a measure of peace. Three emotions all connected but very different. It seemed ironic to her that they would dance together.

She smiled at her father and mother, looking at them with utmost pride. She knew that whatever they had in store for a rebellion in the mines it would not fair well for anyone who was the target of their vendetta.

“I will Dad. Hell hath no fury like an Auvryndyr’s scorn.” she said quietly nodding her head. “I won’t be dumb of it either…I’ll be patient just as you and Mom taught.”

The girl knew that her time with her parents was quickly coming to a close. She didn’t want to leave with sad steps but instead, the encouraging words of resilience her father offered. Still, Shannon couldn’t help but proclaim her one enduring thought. It was a thought that far outshone her torch of fury. “Mom…Dad…I love you both so very much. Ten years seems like only seconds right now. I look forward to the day…” and she picked up the picture she held dear for the last few days “…that we can do this again…together.”

Shannon began to capture the look, feel, and mean spirit of the jail room that she was in and note it in fine detail. She had every intention of taking this commitment of memory and using it as a weapon for the future.


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