Your eyes are heavy as they slowly open, squinting from the lack of light. It's cold. It's humid. The rough carved stone around you is claustrophobic, and the lingering scent of rot makes your eyes water. You hear nothing but ringing from your right, no matter how you turn your head.
Your young fingers tighten against the scraps of a pelt thrown around your shoulders, against the bare remains of your hair, shaved nearly to the skin, now thick with the feel of a darkened, tar-like grime that coated the stone. You don't want to be here. You're tired. You've been tired for days. There's a peeking of sunlight, from where the stoneware meets the sky, very faint sounds of life above. But your chest tightens, a burning emptiness that matches how your gut claws like a wild animal against your ribs, your limbs trembling as you force yourself to your feet, slowly following the unfamiliar tunnels.
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B FLAT MINOR
♯♭♯♭♯
Your young fingers tighten against the scraps of a pelt thrown around your shoulders, against the bare remains of your hair, shaved nearly to the skin, now thick with the feel of a darkened, tar-like grime that coated the stone. You don't want to be here. You're tired. You've been tired for days. There's a peeking of sunlight, from where the stoneware meets the sky, very faint sounds of life above. But your chest tightens, a burning emptiness that matches how your gut claws like a wild animal against your ribs, your limbs trembling as you force yourself to your feet, slowly following the unfamiliar tunnels.
He won't let you back if you try to steal again.
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XIE LIAN