Icy Wind Burns And Scars, Rushes In Like A Falling Star Through The Narrow Space Between These Bars Who: Calvin Llewellyn, An Old Friend What: A Dinner Long Overdue When: Thursday Evening Where: Calvin's Cell, Castyll Prison
There was little light in this place. Lanterns hung from hooks embedded deep into the stone, half of them cold and unlit, a holdover from old traditions in spite of the modern bulbs that had been installed into the ceiling. The glass globes and their spiraled wires only gathered dust.
The room at the end of the hallway was bare, save for a hard cot, a thin blanket, a toilet, a small desk. For two nights, the dark quiet of the cell had been implacable. Though the stone held the heat of the Castyll sun, there was no warmth here, and even the still air drove deep a brutal sense of certainty; there was no freedom to be found here.
Yet from behind the iron bars and heavy locks, the soft glow of candlelight spilled into the darkened hall. It flickered, casting striped shadows on the stern faces of the guards that flanked the doorway to the Danu's cell. The stared ahead, unseeing, unhearing, unfeeling, solid and solemn and still as statues.
A table had been placed in the cell, covered with a plain linen tablecloth, a pair of simple wooden folding chairs. A tarnished silver candlestick held a column of yellow beeswax, atop which flickered the flame, shedding light over a clay pitcher, carved wooden cups, an open book, and the man that read it as he waited.
He was tall and broad, and the plain robes he wore did little to obscure the thick muscles underneath. As his solitude came to an end, he carefully marked his place in the book and closed the cover. With a gentle sigh, the man removed the glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose, folding the temples before placing them atop the volume.
His voice was rich and warm, a slight huskiness betraying the distance he had traveled, or the weariness this place enforced upon all that entered. The Aurellian language flowed from his lips as music, cello strings beneath the bow of a soft, sad smile.
"Good evening, Brother Calvin. Won't you join me?"