Sanria had been slammed down onto the stones with such a force the wind was knocked from her. She swore a rib was broken as she lay there, writhing in pain. "What we do with her?" a deep baritone voice growled out.
"Breakfast?" answered another.
"Breakfast, yes," the baritone laughed.
"What the hell?" A red-caped man strode into the room, his cape billowing behind him.
For Sanria, the only thing definitive was the highly polished red boots that stepped into her field of vision. "Who the hell is this?"
"Trespasser," answered one of the minotaur guards.
"Well how the hell did she get in here? Weren't you doing your job?"
A deep grumble went through the guards and amazingly enough, they remained silent. The red boot then suddenly found contact with Sanria's side in the form of a swift kick.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Oh please... don't... kick me again..." Sanria said gulping for air.
The red caped man knelt down near her, eyeing her carefully. He pulled the communication crystal from beneath her shoulder and tucked it into the pouch at his waist. He was a young man, his chin covered in stubble, his eyebrows thick and set over his eyes making him look permanently irritated. Blonde hair was to his jaw line and he let go of a snort.
"You have no idea all the things we could do to you. State your business here."
"I... came..."
"Faster!" the man snarled.
"I have... no business... I... miscalculated my spell..."
"Well, your miscalculations will find you fetching a fair price on the slave market." The man reached down, taking a fist full of Sanria's hair to lift her head from the stones.
"Yes. Lord Sephiroth always appreciates funding." He let Sanria's head fall to the stones as he stood. "Get her to the dungeon."
"What about breakfast? Let us eat her," stated the guards.
"Typical, always the stomachs. Take her to the cells and she'll be going out with the rest of the trash tomorrow."
It felt as though streams of white hot electricity were bouncing around inside of her body as the guards lifted her without a hint of gentility and drug her, literally, to the cell. They tossed her onto the hard bed that folded from the wall on chains and locked the door behind them. It was going to be a hard night.
Sanria woke without a clue as to the time. It was still dark and lit only by the torches that flickered in from the hallway. The cell was cold, cramped, dank and left Sanria feeling quite worried about her fate. 'Wonderful move,' she thought to herself. 'Couldn't have at least *checked* for the crystal?' She let out a sigh and then turned her focus to healing herself. She was no priest, but she had at least managed to calm the constant pain when the door crashed in. Before her was the last face she thought she'd ever see again. Throm had come... and he looked wild.
