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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (2/?)
Date: 2016-02-23 10:24 pm (UTC)Her bird is fledging. She worries about the fact they’ve been in this weather station for three weeks now, the only news of the outside coming with Siri’s more and more infrequent visits-- “There are legionaries being called in from the east,” she had said, a week after the battle at the Dam, “and of course they need all the women they can to serve them.”--worries about what that will do to her bird. Hopefully her requests have been filled, or will be filled soon.
Her bird is happy enough with the situation. Lucinda spends her time laying on her bed, petting her bird. Her bird is starting to pick up human-grooming, too, picks through her hair, looking. Spends an equal amount of time picking up and arranging and rearranging the scraps of electronics Lucinda brought up from the bunker.
Meals are three times a day, although a day is questionable at this point. She hasn’t been outside in three weeks. One of the girls new to the Fort comes and takes her bucket outside every two days. She doesn’t even get to leave for that.
She's dozing when the door creaks open and Siri steps through, empty-handed.
“Not mealtime?” Lucinda asks, half-sitting and giving her bird time to hop out of the way
“They wanted me to come tell you--your women are all here now.”
“Oh.” Lucinda swings her legs off her bed, scoops up her bird and settles her back in her nest. She pats her bird’s beak with one finger. “You stay here and don’t cause any trouble,” she murmurs, soft and low. Bends down, pulls on her boots and boot covers, laces both up. Grabs her coat, hauls it on. Three weeks, she hasn’t worn it. The sleeves are still stained, no matter how she’s tried to get the blood out. She pulls her bird glove over the one. At least that side will look less bloody.
Undoes the end of her braid, tugs it tight again--no time to redo the entire thing--re-ties it.
Loops the big red scarf a girl brought her three days ago over her shoulders, lets it hang in the back like a cape, the way the centurions do.
Takes a moment to adjust everything so it sits right, settles her sunglasses on her nose. Straightens up, thumps her heels onto the floor as she does. Fills her space.
“I’m ready,” she tells Siri, grins wide. “Bring me to them.”