06-25-2009, 04:18 AM
1)
Marcus rolled his eyes. "I don't know. For that matter, how do I know I can trust you? Maybe she left you here to trick me. Ever thought of that?"
"But-"
"The point is," he continued evenly, "both of us are in a heap of midden and we can keep on not trusting each other, or we can work together and maybe live through this. If it helps, I give you my word as a Guardian."
Guardian... Daniel had heard the title before once. They were knights, or protectors, or.. something a long time ago. He'd heard they were killed off during the Great Schism or disbanded or... well, no one was sure.
Marcus looked at him. "Well?"
"...Maybe."
"Fair enough."
Daniel surveyed the prison once more for another option. Both he and Marcus had been stripped of their armor and anything remotely useful, even their shoes, leaving them little more than the shirts on their backs (and pants too thankfully). There were several objects around the room that Daniel could only assume were for torture as well, most involving ropes, pulleys, clamps, and possibly fire. The Iron Maiden seemed to be the only thing that might be sharp enough to-
"Daniel, is it?" Marcus asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Know how to pick locks?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
"But I'd need a tool," Daniel added quickly.
"I know. Over here."
Daniel warily approached. Despite their circumstances, he couldn't bring himself to trust the man completely.
"Now," said Marcus as he turned his head, "I think my hair's still tied back so it should be in there."
"It?"
"A lockpick."
"You hid a lockpick in your hair?"
Marcus gave a withering sigh. "Yes. Would you think to search there?"
"Well, no. But-
"Just check. We don't have much time."
Reluctantly, Daniel checked. Sure enough, there was a small sliver of steel hidden in the center of the gathered ponytail.
"I got it."
"Good."
Daniel looked at the pick held in his bound hands. He could just try to unlock the door and leave the man to his fate. There was obviously nothing Marcus could do to stop him.
And somehow, he had a feeling that Marcus knew that too.
"...I give you my word as a Guardian."
Could that really mean something?
He tried to kill me.
Well, threatened to kill me.
And he set the crescent trap... or did he?
And he pushed me out of the way when Balthus...
And he's trusting me now.
...Crap.
Daniel crouched next to the table and began to awkwardly pick the lock on Marcus' right wrist with his bound hands. "What kind of Guardian carries around lockpicks?"
"One that had an interesting childhood," Marcus answered with the hint of a smile. "We weren't all born into our roles, lad."
"What were you doing here?"
"Waiting for Tiberius or his bastards. We knew the temptation of Balthus' treasure would bring one of them. That fool Tomas can't keep a secret to save his life."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "I don't know. For that matter, how do I know I can trust you? Maybe she left you here to trick me. Ever thought of that?"
"But-"
"The point is," he continued evenly, "both of us are in a heap of midden and we can keep on not trusting each other, or we can work together and maybe live through this. If it helps, I give you my word as a Guardian."
Guardian... Daniel had heard the title before once. They were knights, or protectors, or.. something a long time ago. He'd heard they were killed off during the Great Schism or disbanded or... well, no one was sure.
Marcus looked at him. "Well?"
"...Maybe."
"Fair enough."
Daniel surveyed the prison once more for another option. Both he and Marcus had been stripped of their armor and anything remotely useful, even their shoes, leaving them little more than the shirts on their backs (and pants too thankfully). There were several objects around the room that Daniel could only assume were for torture as well, most involving ropes, pulleys, clamps, and possibly fire. The Iron Maiden seemed to be the only thing that might be sharp enough to-
"Daniel, is it?" Marcus asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Know how to pick locks?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
"But I'd need a tool," Daniel added quickly.
"I know. Over here."
Daniel warily approached. Despite their circumstances, he couldn't bring himself to trust the man completely.
"Now," said Marcus as he turned his head, "I think my hair's still tied back so it should be in there."
"It?"
"A lockpick."
"You hid a lockpick in your hair?"
Marcus gave a withering sigh. "Yes. Would you think to search there?"
"Well, no. But-
"Just check. We don't have much time."
Reluctantly, Daniel checked. Sure enough, there was a small sliver of steel hidden in the center of the gathered ponytail.
"I got it."
"Good."
Daniel looked at the pick held in his bound hands. He could just try to unlock the door and leave the man to his fate. There was obviously nothing Marcus could do to stop him.
And somehow, he had a feeling that Marcus knew that too.
"...I give you my word as a Guardian."
Could that really mean something?
He tried to kill me.
Well, threatened to kill me.
And he set the crescent trap... or did he?
And he pushed me out of the way when Balthus...
And he's trusting me now.
...Crap.
Daniel crouched next to the table and began to awkwardly pick the lock on Marcus' right wrist with his bound hands. "What kind of Guardian carries around lockpicks?"
"One that had an interesting childhood," Marcus answered with the hint of a smile. "We weren't all born into our roles, lad."
"What were you doing here?"
"Waiting for Tiberius or his bastards. We knew the temptation of Balthus' treasure would bring one of them. That fool Tomas can't keep a secret to save his life."