The room actually didn't look too bad.
Several of the nonattached carpets were disrupted, and the bed looked as if someone was so desperate for a deck of cards that they shuffled the sheets. Then dealt them.
There were, of course, a few fallen over knickknacks, here and there, but not as if some earthquake had come through. The room was dim, though not completely dark, as the light had been dialed to a low setting.
The only sign of life came from the right. Leaning against the wall with his face towards it, h appeared as if he was trying to stand up, but was unable, forcing himself to stand against the stone edifice. However, there was an air of anguish in his stance, his hand, held up against the wall, were not relaxed, but clawed and tense, as if they were trying to dig into the rock. His arms were thrown at wild angles beside him, though both forearms faced upwards, like he were trying to crawl and fight to climb out of a pit but had lost all strength.
His face was almost, emotionless, almost. His mouth was slightly open, letting you see the gritted teeth, though they were clenched weakly, as if one had done it for hours on end and the jaw was tired. His eyes were shut, and his breathing, though heavy, was quiet and somehow shallow. He was trembling from the neverending withdrawal, though it was almost imperceptible, and sweat was trailing down his face. His upper tunic was unbuttoned halfway down his torso, as if he had been burning hot and was desperate for relief.
Though, being what he was, his face was already pale, somehow it seemed more so, and there was a gaunt look to him and a parched look to his lips that told that he had eaten and drank nothing since before being locked in here. He had commanded that the guard outside bring him nothing, and that he never enter. Fortunately the guard had obeyed: earlier, in the pinnacle of his fits, he surely would have done something his heart would have regretted for his entire life.
He made no acknowledgment of her presence.
Several of the nonattached carpets were disrupted, and the bed looked as if someone was so desperate for a deck of cards that they shuffled the sheets. Then dealt them.
There were, of course, a few fallen over knickknacks, here and there, but not as if some earthquake had come through. The room was dim, though not completely dark, as the light had been dialed to a low setting.
The only sign of life came from the right. Leaning against the wall with his face towards it, h appeared as if he was trying to stand up, but was unable, forcing himself to stand against the stone edifice. However, there was an air of anguish in his stance, his hand, held up against the wall, were not relaxed, but clawed and tense, as if they were trying to dig into the rock. His arms were thrown at wild angles beside him, though both forearms faced upwards, like he were trying to crawl and fight to climb out of a pit but had lost all strength.
His face was almost, emotionless, almost. His mouth was slightly open, letting you see the gritted teeth, though they were clenched weakly, as if one had done it for hours on end and the jaw was tired. His eyes were shut, and his breathing, though heavy, was quiet and somehow shallow. He was trembling from the neverending withdrawal, though it was almost imperceptible, and sweat was trailing down his face. His upper tunic was unbuttoned halfway down his torso, as if he had been burning hot and was desperate for relief.
Though, being what he was, his face was already pale, somehow it seemed more so, and there was a gaunt look to him and a parched look to his lips that told that he had eaten and drank nothing since before being locked in here. He had commanded that the guard outside bring him nothing, and that he never enter. Fortunately the guard had obeyed: earlier, in the pinnacle of his fits, he surely would have done something his heart would have regretted for his entire life.
He made no acknowledgment of her presence.