Numinous
[adj] being both fearful and awed by what is before you
𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑪𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔: 𝑴𝒆 :)
𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕: 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 (𝑶𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝑨𝒓𝒕) 𝑩𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄�...
"If you didn't care then why'd you tell me jackass?"
We began advancing forward. At first, I was completely fine. ALmost confident that what Masky said was just a fluke.
That confidence immediately faded as I was once again struck by a painful ringing in my head. I was unable to say or see a thing. TV-like static clouded my vision. The pain was excruciating; I felt like throwing up.
To my fortune, that pain soon subsided. I woke back to my senses to see goggles-man laughing his ass off. I knew for a fact it was from my pain so I mentally flipped him off.
"HAHA! You should have seen your face!"
"You should probably see your own. Then you'll realize you have no room to talk." I meant to keep that to myself, but I was in too much pain to really care.
"Did- Did you just call me ugly?" He sounded extremely offended. Completely switched up the aura.
"They can't even see your face dumb-fuck." Slit-face bore out.
"Yeah yeah whatever..." Goggles-man stormed out to another direction, throwing his holster belt roughly into a room.
"Bipolar-ass," Slit-face spoke.
"Mood swings alone don't make a person bipolar y'know." I said.
"Shut up, or your smartass won't last that long here."
"You implying I actually wanna stay here?"
"You don't have that much of a choice pest," Yellow-eyes spoke from behind me
[apologies for the nicknames, you just don't know what their names are yet.]
"Would you please quit calling me that-" I suppose my few shining moments of sass expired when I felt a harsh stinging on my cheek.
"That kind of talk from you won't be tolerated," Masky spoke, dusting his hand on his pants.
I could only nod in response due to shock. Damn. My cheek was stinging. My left eye began tearing up.
"Why is it always on the left side?"
Suddenly, I was roughly pushed forward by that same bastard.
"C'mon. Move."
"That was all you had to say, bastard."
I began walking forward, following the masked-man down a corridor. The interior design would be best described as an Italian/royal classic design.
"This doesn't match these fuckers at all."
We reached a series of stairs going downwards. It differed from the rest of the place greatly. Grey-stone bricks laced with moss surrounded us. The stairs were withering away, a clear safety hazard.
I was again pushed forward, nearly tripping. I couldn't afford to be bitch-slapped again so I refrained from throwing yellow-eyes an eye-roll.
To my luck, the trudge down didn't take much effort. Surprisingly short. When we reached the end, I was greeted with a series of prison cells.
"Yeah, this seems more like the place they would stay."
Again, I was pushed forward.
"Third cell to the left." Masky asserted.
I felt the shackles on me suddenly dissolve from my wrists. I massaged both wrists, relieved I was free. But yet again, that moment of relief was short-lived when I was kicked forward by yellow-eyes.
"Move."
"I was going to, bastard. I swear, I can't do something after the very second you tell me to do something."
I speed-walked to my cell simply because I'm sick and tired of being shoved around every second. On my walk, I did take note of a few other individuals. There were two others. One was a tall lanky guy, skin pampered with bruises. The second was a more built guy. Odd difference.
My guess? Brains and brawns dynamic.
The cell was rather compact, to be expected. Luckily, the mold and moss that laced the walls of the staircase were cleaned off the walls of the cells. In the corner was a twin-sized bed with a white blanket and pillow.
