Head like a hole

"What's going on here?" shouted one of the guards, who came to see what the screaming was about. And, expecting that it be a prisoner, he was shocked to see one of the best and strongest men he knew on the ground, loud sobs erupting from his mouth.

"What happened to you, Marley?" he asked, dropping down beside the fallen man. But he received no answer because Marley was getting up to his feet.

"Marley, let me see your-" His hand went out remove the other man's hands from his face, but Marley fled from the cell.

Stepping out of the doorway, the orange light flooded through into the chamber, illuminating the bound prisoner. There was no way this prisoner could have harmed the guard - seven moons, he was just a boy! And a frightened one at that, seeming to be on the verge of tears. He must have bitten Marley as he came too close, but something was just not yet. The guard watched the boy momentarily, before concern entered him again and he left, shutting the big wooden door behind him. If not for his wounded comrade, he would have stayed and taken his staff to the boy.

"Leave that one alone, watch the door and call me if be anything suspicious!" he ordered to the others, who now gathered outside to see what the noise was all about.

---

A soft tapping came at the door, and Larkin stirred underneath his silky bed covers.

"Sire, your breakfast is ready," came a gentle, female voice. Lark only replied with a groan, trying to cover his ears with his pillow. And for a few moments, there was no other interruption.

Then, "Would you rather eat in the dining hall or have me bring it up to you, sire?"

"Just go away!" shouted Lark, throwing his pillow across the room to the door. It fell short, landing with a near soundless thud. Whining, he slid from underneath his covers and stood, stretching his arms out. Once he was awake, he would never go back to sleep. Dim, blue light shone through the windows of his room, and he examined his skin in it, smiling pleasantly.

Someone moved near his feet, and Larkin looked down to see a pretty round face smiling at him, "Beautiful morning, sire." she said.

"Indeed," he replied grimly, then louder, "Morning, ladies." And several other female faces appeared from under blankets and pillows. They rose slowly, and while Lark dressed himself in his morning attire, they made his bed and gathered his dirty garments. Once finished (and dressed themselves) they exited the room, whispering and giggling to one another. Annoyed, Lark was relieved to have them gone. He sat down on the edge of his bed, sighed, and stared out the window. The castle was the tallest building in all of Galesing. So many floors he couldn't count, and he was suddenly glad that he had moved his room from the very top to this one, the one with a balcony and a garden right below it, allowing him to freely slip out at any time of day or night, unseen. He wanted to leave right then, and this time, he would not return, ever. He would escape to a place unheard of, and there he would start from scratch and reach the highest rank there was to be reached. It bore him now, that he was of the highest status in society, and could climb no higher. His life bore him, and there was nothing of excitement to be dealt with. No exploring of new territories, no discoveries or inventions, no wars. Unless you were to count the under-grounders, but they were weak and hardly stood a chance against the society. They did not amuse him, but did jut forth an opportunity. Lark supposed that it would do his city, and the other cities, good if they were to be rid of. He would have to look into this, he had never had many problems with the Sink, as they called themselves, until recently. Yes, he would have to look into this. And what about the prisoners that had been taken in last night's riot? He would see them later this afternoon, after he recovered a good deal of background information.

Smiling slightly, he stood, pulled on a pair of white gloves to match his orange and ivory outfit and went to eat his breakfast.

--

Lark did not know his sudden interest in Sink would soon form into an obsession as he strode confidently through the dark halls of his castle home. But their tactics were so interesting, and their thievery so common. It was said that these people were getting a hold of the new inventions before anyone else in the land did. They collapsed their tunnels behind them, like covering one's tracks, with mysteriously silent explosive devices. He wanted to see what of them he had in the dungeon, just what sort of information he could get out of them.

Down the stairs he trudged, down into the dim red light of the dungeons.
"Marley," he called, his voice filled with a sweetness that was only present when he felt confident of himself, was extremely happy, or just wanted something. All were very rare, aside from the latter.
The tall, young captain of the guards came from the wooden table, where sat his lunch. "Yes, my lord?" He went down on one knee, then came back up and saw the frightening smile of the Shrike.
"Marley," he said again, purring it this time, "What new prisoners do we have today?"

All seemed to stop in the dungeons, even the many sobs and rattling chains quieted down as if hearing what was said was their fate. And usually, if said by Lark, it would have, but not yet, not this day. Even the guards seemed to lag behind in their duties, just to be present for this.

Swallowing, and nervous from the sudden silence, Marley stuttered, "Uh-un-unclaimed prisoners, mostly." He wiped his damp lips, "And, uh, one of the under-grounders." he said it softly, unsure of how Larkin would react. And, as he guessed, Larkin didn't take it too well.

The smile was wiped completely from his smooth features, "One?" he asked, and cocked his head to the side, lips tightening, drained of all their pretty pinkness. It did not occur to him that this was the boy he himself had captured.

"Y-yes, sire. Just one. Just a boy." Marley felt his face becoming cold, white, scared.

The rest of the guards just... suddenly happened to remember that they had jobs to be done, and scurried out the room, but the silence remained. They did not want to be present for whatever may have happened, if Lark chose to carry his anger to full extent. Marley knew, Marley experienced, Marley could show what happened when Lark got angry. And now, he feared, that he would be permanently crippled this time.

But it was not so, Lark replied to Marley's nod with, "Take me," and he did, leading Lark down through the tunnels to where the boy was kept.

Violet eyes stared up from the darkened corner of the chamber to the door as it slid open. Orange light filled the room, and a pair of equally orange eyes stared down. There was a man behind this one, who whispered gentle words of warning, and the taller one only ushered him away.

"What do we have here?" he whispered quietly, and Lark stepped over the remains of the platter that had been spilled the night before, and approached the boy in his corner. The rattling of chains reached his ears, and he gently stroked the trigger that would unleash his weapons, if needed. "Come out into the light," he coaxed, motioning to his right.

It was a moment before the rag covered boy scooted across the stone floor into the light, his face shroud in shadows.
Throwing his cape behind him, Lark took a step towards the boy, crouching down in front of him, the tight white leather of his clothing creaking in disagreement. His gloved hand reached out for the boy's face, finger tipping his chin up and revealing his face in the light before he could move it away. And when he did, Lark's eyes fluttered in annoyance.

"Don't be shy," he whispered, his voice slathered in false sweetness, "Tell me your name."