The effect of the wound was immediate. She stumbled backward with none of her usual fluid grace, bleeding freely from her right side. “The prisoners’ limiting cocktail,” she wheezed with a nod of acceptance. “Nicely done.” She crumpled into a seated position on the filthy floor of the cell. “Bastard,” she added wearily.
“You forced me to this,” I told her, returning the spear to the wall by the door. “If you’d only cooperated….” I realized that she was dangerous, untrustworthy and not even that likeable but for some reason I felt guilty enough to try and justify my actions to her.
“Cooperated?” she echoed with a weak chuckle. “With a clueless, wishy-washy, gutless shitstack of a devil?” She let out a derisive snort. “You beat me, okay? You win. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
And suddenly I didn’t feel guilty anymore. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a sore loser?” I asked her.
“Anybody ever tell you you’re a terrible gloater?” she retorted foully.
“Okay,” I sighed. “I have bigger problems right now than you anyway, so I’ll be going now, fuck you very much.”
“Whatever,” she scowled at me.
Just then I became aware of another presence in the cell. A dark purple demon seated against the far wall waved to me cheerfully. “Hi, how’s it going? I’m Zlock!” he said.
Kivra rolled her eyes and lay down on the ground dejectedly.
“I don’t get a lot of visitors,” Zlock said. “If anybody wanted to visit me they wouldn’t know where to find me anyway, since I’ve only been in this cell for a short time. Somebody blew the door off my old cell.” He grinned excitedly at Kivra. “Do we get to be cellmates?” he asked.
She ignored him.
“Well,” I said, mostly to Kivra, “I’ll let you two get to know each other a little better.” I jumped outside, flagged down a Pit Guard to explain the presence of a new prisoner and the importance that she be kept under constant watch, and teleported back to Jaelin.