Post by Flame on May 1, 2017 23:35:49 GMT -5
The hold placed in the center of the marine's ship was dark and somewhat dank. It made for at the very least what could be called unpleasant conditions. The only ambiance was a few lanterns hung at either end of the rows of cells that lined either side of it. The only air to breath was a stale one, especially in times of calm seas where the wind wouldn't slide through what little venting they had in here. The rows of iron barred cells separated the prisoners into small groups. It was a rather soul-crushing feeling to be stuck here. Of this Mars could agree to that.
"How many days has it been?" The downtrodden question was put forth by Oric, the first of Mars' two cell partners. Kist, the second, sighed at the question, not that Mars could blame him. They had been asked the same question almost every day for what must have been at least the last couple weeks. If being asked was bad enough, being constantly reminded of it was worse. "One day more than the answer from yesterday." Mars responded with a tired voice as he slouched upon one of the two benches in their cell. He hung his head down unable to look at Oric in this very moment. "So twenty two days, since you seem to not have been counting. Perhaps you should take up a hobby, like scratching the floor to count days. So you can stop asking us." Mars' voice and answer were more spiteful than he intended but the constant questions were getting to him.
Kist nodded in agreement with Mars and between the two of them's united response Oric hung his head in dismay. Looks like he'll not be of much use conversationally for the rest of today. Mars thought, not that he ever was, or Kist for that matter, though that might've just been because Kist was the silent-type. Mars scratching his forehead sniffing in the smell of the room. It was disturbing how used to the smell he was at this point. Not a week ago he had been complaining his mouth off about it. But then, none of them had showered in ages, they were lucky enough to have holes in the hull where they could shovel feces away. All in all it lead to a dreadfully terrible smell in the room. His inability to tell was perhaps the worst thing.
Standing up he walked over the grated door of their prison. Placing both hands on it he rattled it slightly. The chance of him actually throwing the switch was insignificant, he knew he it wouldn't do anything. But believing in the chance helped him. He needed that in these times of darkness. They were still multiple days away from Jreum, he needed to stay strong. Or so he told himself. From his place at the far end of the row of cells he looked down to the other side. Towards' Shade's cell, she was perhaps lucky due to her gender. As one of only two female prisoners the pair shared a cell somewhat cut off from the rest, it had wooden planks blocking off most view of it, for their own privacy.
Mars frowned, somewhere he felt it was his duty to save them from this, not that he could save himself from it. Uselessly he shook the bars again, stopping only when a bell ringing twice from outside the room caught his attention. As it did the rest of the prisoners who all looked up. At once the door closest to Mars swung open. From it marched in at the head a Petty Officer whom Mars had taken to calling 'Scum'. His actual name Mars had long erased from his mind in preference to this one. The Petty Officer was their so-called Warden, in charge of the group of marines who had the unfortunate duty of watching over the prisoners. Behind him a group of fifteen or so marines marched into the hold. All the while they complained in whisper about the terrible smell. They're probably right ... I wish I could smell prop-
The pirate's thoughts stopped as he saw who else came in. His jacket with the words justice on it were enough for Mars to know. Immediately his eyes narrowed as the Polar Bear, his enemy from the incident at Ice Nine who had gotten him into here walked in. Upon his face a simple white mask covered mouth and nose. It was rare to see him, in fat Mars had only seen the man once since the seaborn trip had started. The marine officer's eyes swept the room before stopping at Mars. Mars' green orbs locked with the marine's and they stared at each other for a moment. His grudging respect for the man who had defeated him not once but twice, was overridden by his overarching hatred of the man who now owned the sword Mars once called his own.
"Hows' it stewin?" The marine's malicious words caused Mars to grasp the iron bars angrily shaking them. The Polar Bear turned his had away and Mars took the chance to try and spit at him. It was to no avail, he missed completely and the marine officer simply walked out of the hold. "Right then, prisoners be ready. We're doing inspections now." Mars continued to watch the door that his nemesis had left, his hands still grasping the iron bars of his cell. It was only last minute that he pulled them off to avoid a rapping of the baton to crush his fingers against the iron.
"Get to the wall scum." Fire burned within Mars' soul but he did nothing. Now was not the time, instead he swallowed his pride and walked over to the hull placing both hands against it. At a click the door to their cell opened and a pair of marines came in to begin an overly rigorous pat down. His revenge for all of this in any case would be his, he swore it.
"You won't find anything you didn't find last time. Unless you just like touching in that area." Mars' impertinence earned him a kick right into the family jewels. Somewhat regretting the words he fell to the ground clutching himself as pain boiled over and threatened to paralyze him. As the marines finished up their search of the cell, Mars chanced a glance at the marine's belt. A set of keys hang loosely from it. Secretly he aimed to swipe it, his hand falling short Mars sighed. The marines continued about, going from cell to cell and checking down all the prisoners.
At the end was the thing that all of them were looking forward to. As the marines finished up their inspection, they would be given lunch, it was the only meal the prisoners were afforded. A bowl of slop, none of the prisoners knew or wanted to know what was in it. They were so hungry, Mars included, that they accepted the food gratefully. The sound of carts coming down the hallway confirmed it was coming. In a great metal vat, with metal bowls and spoons they would get to eat something. And something was better than nothing.